He disappeared into its thick doors like a magician’s rabbit. Her hands wove through his black hair, luxuriating in its thickness. The trip took a full day. 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. E. “You too sing?” he asked. Amongst them was a revolver. Captain Hilary Roding and his inamorata, Miss Lucilla Froxfield.
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