From the portals of the hotel—scarcely fifty yards from the canal—one saw the blank face of the ancient city of Canton. That there Frenchie didn’t look any too friendly to me. She could not help but admit that she liked being smiled at and addressed in the hallways by hordes of friendly faces. Only she hadn’t. "That man should have been an Italian bravo," murmured the knight, sinking into a chair: "he has neither fear nor compunction. “It is not, of course, a pleasant subject of conversation for you or for me, yet I think I may venture to suggest to you that your sister’s—er—indiscretions—have reached a point which makes a separation between you almost a necessity. Before Marthe will become impatient and come out. Tom Sheppard was always a close file, and would never tell whom he married.
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