Her white shirt was mired with a central bloodstain, his pants caked with mud. Yet, here she was, in the ancient Chinese city, weaving in and out of the narrow streets some scarcely wide enough for two men to walk abreast, streets that boiled and eddied with yellow human beings, who worshipped strange gods, ate strange foods, and diffused strange suffocating smells. Besides this, each had a large black patch over his right eye, and a very queer twist at the left side of his mouth, so that if their object had been disguise, they could not have adopted better precautions. ‘It does not matter to me if he comes or no, madame. The big pay strikes them; but when they find there's no place to spend it, good-bye!" Tom the cook came in with the chops and the potatoes—the doctor's dinner— and McClintock fell to with a gusto which suggested that there was still some liver under his ribs. It is better to face the truth. Section 1.
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