"What's the use of wasting a shot?" rejoined Jonathan, savagely. Wood trembled. The wretch you confide in has sworn to hang you. There was no one else in the doorway. " "But how in the Lord's name was she brought up? There's a queer story back of this somewhere. To reach the Sha-mien—and particularly the Hotel Victoria—one crossed a narrow canal, always choked with rocking sampans over and about which swarmed yellow men and women and children in varied shades of faded blue cotton. The Mother Abbess, while thankful, could not be brought to consent to allow the girl out of her charge alone with unknown servants, and Martha was delegated to accompany her erstwhile nurseling to the homeland she had thought never to see again.
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