seat, and signalled to a small boy in white, who was scuffling with
another small boy, also in white, and ordered some drinks.

"I am new to it," explained Coryndon, and his voice sounded tired, as
though the Pagoda had been a little too much for him.

Joicey did not reply; he was looking away, and Coryndon followed his
eyes. Near the wide staircase, and just about to go up it, a man was
standing, talking to a friend. He was dressed in an ill-cut suit of
white, with a V-shaped inlet of black under his round collar; he held a
_topi_ of an old pattern under his arm, and the light showed his face
cadaverous and worn. Joicey was holding the arm of his chair, and his
under-lip trembled.

"Inexplicable," he muttered, and drank with a gulping sound.

"What did you say?" asked Coryndon politely.

"Say? Did I say anything? I can't remember that I did." The Banker's
voice was irritable, and he still watched the clergyman.

"What strikes me about the Pagoda is the strong Chinese element in the
design. I am told that there are a lot of Chinamen in Mangadone. I
should like to see their quarter."

"Hartley should be able to arrange that for you."

Joicey was evidently growing tired of Coryndon's freshness and
enthusiasm, and he passed his hand over his face, as though the damp
heat of the night depressed his mind.