coolies, who live in the vicinity and have followed close upon our heels
even since our descent into the underworld, assure us in soothing tones
that the place is vacant. We are suspicious and persist in our
investigation; still no response. The door is then forced by the
"special," and behold four of the "seven sleepers" packed into this
air-tight compartment, and insensible even to the hearty greeting we
offer them!

The air is absolutely overpowering. We hasten from the spot, but are
arrested in our flight by the "special," who leads us to the gate of
the catacombs, and bids us follow him. I know not to what extent the
earth has been riddled under the Chinese Quarter; probably no man knows
save he who has burrowed, like a gopher, from one living grave to
another, fleeing from taxation or the detective. I know that we thread
dark passages, so narrow that two of us may not cross tracks, so low
that we often crouch at the doorways that intercept pursuit at
unexpected intervals. Here the thief and the assassin seek sanctuary; it
is a city of refuge for lost souls.

The numerous gambling-houses are so cautiously guarded that only the
private police can ferret them out. Door upon door is shut against you;
or some ingenious panel is slid across your path, and you are
unconsciously spirited away through other avenues. The secret signals
that gave warning of your approach caused a sudden transformation in the
ground-plan of the establishment.

Gambling and opium-smoking are here the ruling passions. A coolie will
pawn anything and everything to obtain the means with which to indulge
these fascinations. There are many games played publicly at restaurants
and in the retiring-rooms of mercantile establishments. Not only are