" CHAPTER XV. ‘Can’t see a thing. ‘Well?’ demanded Miss Froxfield, accepting a glass of lemonade proffered by a passing lackey. Eluding the blow, Jack plucked his sword from the scabbard, and a desperate conflict began. " The air in the narrow street, which was not eight feet wide, swarmed with smells impossible to define; but all at once the pleasantly pungent odour of Chinese incense drifted across the girl's face, and gratefully she quickened her inhalations. “Rubbish!” he answered. His name is John. "Affairs are not normal in Canton at present. The mere enumeration of the obstacles that existed would have deterred any spirit less daring than Sheppard's from even hazarding the attempt.
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