“What the devil are you doing star-gazing here?” Ennison looked at him in surprise. On the way home he was still thoughtful. He had often read about it, and once he had incorporated it in a story, that invisible force which sent men to prison and to the gallows, when a tongue controlled would have meant liberty indefinite. They were headed by an athleticlooking, swarthy-featured man, who was armed with a cutlass, which he waved over his head to cheer on his companions. From the portals of the hotel—scarcely fifty yards from the canal—one saw the blank face of the ancient city of Canton. Annabel, I was lying. Utter silence answered him.
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