took refuge in his tattered _Graphic_. The players, however, advanced in
a more friendly fashion. The Englishman, whose name Rudolph did not
catch, shook his hand heartily.

"Mr. Hackh is a welcome addition." He spoke with deliberate courtesy.
Something in his voice, the tired look in his frank blue eyes and
serious face, at once engaged respect. "For our sakes," he continued,
"we're glad to see you here. I am sure Doctor Chantel will agree
with me."

"Ah, indeed," said the man in military blue, with a courtier's bow.
Both air and accent were French. "Most welcome."

"Let's all have a drink," cried Heywood. Despite his many glasses at
dinner, he spoke with the alacrity of a new idea. "O Boy, whiskey
_Ho-lan suey, fai di_!"

Away bounded the boy marker like a tennis-ball.

"Hello, Wutzler's off already!"--The little old reader had quietly
disappeared, leaving them a vacant table.--"Isn't he weird?" laughed
Heywood, as they sat down. "Comes and goes like a ghost."

"It is his Chinese wife," declared Chantel, preening his moustache. "He
is always ashame to meet the new persons."

"Poor old chap," said Heywood. "I know--feels himself an outcast and all
that. Humph! With us! Quite unnecessary."--The Chinese page, quick,
solemn, and noiseless, glided round the table with his tray.--"Ah, you
young devil! You're another weird one, you atom. See those bead eyes