The Iron Bar 397 XVIII. ’ She grasped the girl’s arm. Do you want me, too?” “Yes,” she whispered foolishly, in the throes of rapture. It was a young girl who overheard me when I was on my third shopkeeper who answered my question. "Close the door!" commanded Trenchard, impatiently. The drawers at the moment were too busy to attend to her, and she would have seized the opportunity of examining, unperceived, the assemblage within, through a little curtained window that overlooked the adjoining chamber, if an impediment had not existed in the shape of Baptist Kettleby, whose portly person entirely obscured the view. Outside the door stood one of the soldiers. It had been intensified and corrupted by time, as if to add insult to injury. 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. "I half suspect this is a highwayman," thought the Jew; "he's so ready with his cash. I kept watch over you, for fear of a surprise on the part of Jonathan.
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