“I mean to go to prison directly the session is over,” said Miss Klegg. ‘Am I a fool? Can I blow off a head with a pistol which is not loaded?’ ‘She has a point,’ conceded Alderley, relaxing a little as amusement burgeoned again ‘Ten to one she is a French spy,’ burst from Roding. He awoke, strangely content. Everywhere I went and rapped at a door I found behind it another dreadful dingy woman—another fallen queen, I suppose— dingier than the last, dirty, you know, in grain. Could she go through with it? She must. And, with a glance of malignant exultation, he quitted the vault, and locked the door. Ho-hum! CHAPTER IX The Hong-Kong packet lay alongside the warehouse frontage.
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