This is simply a chapter of coincidences. A drunken idea, Ah Cum had called it. I'm speaking of virtuous women—of WIVES, Madam. A familiar ache of wanting made itself more insistent in her belly. The sunshine broke across each shoulder, one lance striking the yellow face of a Chinaman, queueless and dressed in European clothes, the other lance falling squarely upon the face of the man he had journeyed thirteen thousand miles to find. The light!—the light!" Astounded at his cries, Thames sprang towards him. And now, only twenty-four hours behind him … that is, if he wasn't paddling by on the return route to Hong-Kong or had dropped down to Macao. The windows were grated, the doors barred; each room had the name as well as the appearance of a cell; and the very porter who stood at the gate, habited like a jailer, with his huge bunch of keys at his girdle, his forbidding countenance and surly demeanour seemed to be borrowed from Newgate.
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