The silence of Canton at night was sinister, for none could prophesy what form of mob might suddenly boil out. “Intolerable idiots!. I wish they would just get it over with. He got off on it. But tell me how have you escaped from the confinement in which you were placed—come and sit by me—here—upon the bed—give me your hand—and tell me all about it. ‘Get out! Out, I say! Think I want another miserable cowardly good-for-nothing wastrel on my hands? Begone! Out of my house!’ He drove them to the door, grimly satisfied when the girl’s nerve broke. A moment afterwards, the street was illumined by a blaze of torchlight, and a tumultuous uproar, mixed with the clashing of weapons, and the braying of horns, announced the arrival of the first detachment of Minters. ‘That’s why I never told Joan Ibstock that you were still with me when I wrote. What would it be without that safeguard?” Ogilvy pursued his own topic.
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