‘Aha,’ grunted Gerald with satisfaction, squinting up at the two open shutters on the second floor. If only monsieur le baron had said nothing, or perhaps instead accepted the couple as the Valades and agreed to help them. From a scout stationed at the northern entrance, whom she addressed in the jargon of the place, with which long usage had formerly rendered her familiar, she ascertained that Blueskin, accompanied by a youth, whom she knew by the description must be her son, had arrived there about three hours before, and had proceeded to the Cross Shovels. Canton at night is as much China as the border town of Lan-Chow-fu.
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