CHAPTER XXVI Spurlock went out on his toes, careful lest the bamboo curtain rattle behind him. He was ruffled, and his ears were red, no doubt from some adjacent controversy. The Plague raced through the city and the Palazzo, consuming it like fire. So, here he was, on the last lap of middle age, in China, having missed all the thrills in life except one—the war against Death. Jane was a smoldering auburn-haired Irish beauty who seldom spoke to anyone. ’ She tries every way of earning a living and fails. I am an old friend, and I declined to be shelved.
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