into a strange, ghastly pallor. For a moment they stood immovable,
staring into each other's eyes, and the shadows behind Mhtoon Pah in the
shop, and the shadows behind Leh Shin in the street, seemed to listen
and wait with them, seemed to creep closer and enfold them, seemed to
draw up and up on noiseless feet and hang suspended around them. The
moment might have endured for years, so full was it of menace and
passion, and then the man outside moved quickly and the moonlight
flooded in across the face and shoulders of the Burman.

For a second longer he remained as though fascinated, and then Mhtoon
Pah wrenched at the door and thundered back the heavy bolts. There were
flecks of foam on his lips, and his eyes rolled as he dashed through the
door and out down the steps, rending the air with cries of murder. He
was too late, the Chinaman had gone. When the street flocked out to see
what the disturbance meant, Mhtoon Pah was crouching on his steps in a
kind of fit.

"I have seen the face of the slayer of Absalom," he shrieked, when the
crowd had carried him in, and recovered him to his senses.

"Is he a devil?" asked a young Burman, in tones of joyful excitement. "A
devil with iron claws has been seen several nights lately."

"A Chinese devil," groaned Mhtoon Pah, speaking through his clenched
teeth. "One who shall yet be hanged for his crime."

"Ah! ah!" said the watchers. "He dreams that it is a man, but it is
known that a devil has walked in Paradise Street, his jaws open.
Certainly he has eaten little Absalom."