The latter request, though treated with supreme contempt by Mr. By and by—as the paroxysm subsided and he became motionless—she stole back to the bungalow to wait. She hit the villain with it. Pure luck! But for that bottle of whisky, nobody in the Hong-Kong Hotel would have been able to identify the photograph; and at this hour James Boyle O'Higgins would have been on the way to Yokohama, and the trail lost for ever. She had not nursed Leonardo for weeks for nothing. She felt that for a time at any rate her depressing struggle against continual failure was at an end. These galleries were separated in the middle by iron grates. "That's a good story, lad.
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