" "For whom, Sir?" inquired Charcam. Michelle was in sight, Lucy could hear her voice, high in the crowd, and saw her blond head bobbing among a sea of faces. "But, I should think, after the specimen you've just given of your amiable disposition, no person would be likely to saddle himself with such an incumbrance. The silence of Canton at night was sinister, for none could prophesy what form of mob might suddenly boil out. Unless—’ Something clicked in his mind and he stared at his friend without seeing him. The fatal shower, from which he and his little charge escaped uninjured, had stricken his assailant and precipitated him into the boiling gulf. He was a Wiltshire Edmondshaw, a very old family. Only an undermaid I was then. She lingered over donning her winter coat, buttoning each toggle and placket, double knotting her long scarf.
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