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cutting
at the back of John Ki's."
    He ceased speaking and flashed the lamp again several times. Then, all
at once out of the murky darkness into which we were peering, looked
a little eye of light—once, twice, thrice it winked at us from low
down upon the oily water; then was gone.
    "It's Weymouth with the cutter," said Fletcher; "they are ready ...
now for Jon Ki's."
    We stumbled back up the slight acclivity beneath the archway to the
street, leaving the ruinous gates as we had found them. Into the
uninviting little alley immediately opposite we plunged, and where
the faint yellow luminance showed upon the muddy path before us,
Fletcher paused a moment, whispering to me warningly.
    "Don't speak if you can help it," he said; "if you do, mumble any old
jargon in any language you like, and throw in plenty of cursing!"
    He grasped me by the arm, and I found myself crossing the threshold of
the Joy-Shop—I found myself in a meanly furnished room no more than
twelve feet square and very low ceiled, smelling strongly of paraffin
oil. The few items of furniture which it contained were but dimly
discernible in the light of a common tin lamp which stood upon a
packing-case at the head of what looked like cellar steps.
    Abruptly, I pulled up; for this stuffy little den did not correspond
with pre-conceived ideas of the place for which we were bound. I was
about to speak when Fletcher nipped my arm—and out from the shadows
behind the packing-case a little bent figure arose!
    I started violently, for I had had no idea that another was in the
room. The apparition proved to be a Chinaman, and judging from what I
could see of him, a very old Chinaman, his bent figure attired in a
blue smock. His eyes were almost invisible amidst an intricate map of
wrinkles which covered his yellow face.
    "Evening, John," said Fletcher—and, pulling me with him, he made for
the head of the steps.
    As I came abreast of the packing-case, the Chinaman lifted the lamp
and directed its light fully upon my face.
    Great as was the faith which I reposed in my make-up, a doubt and a
tremor disturbed me now, as I found myself thus scrutinized by those
cunning old eyes looking out from the mask-like, apish face. For the
first time the Chinaman spoke.
    "You blinger fliend, Charlie?" he squeaked in a thin, piping voice.
    "Him play piecee card," replied Fletcher briefly. "Good fellow, plenty
much money."
    He descended the steps, still holding my arm, and I perforce followed
him. Apparently John's scrutiny and Fletcher's explanation respecting
me, together had proved satisfactory; for the lamp was replaced upon
the lid of the packing-case, and the little bent figure dropped down
again into the shadows from which it had emerged.
    "Allee lightee," I heard faintly as I stumbled downward in the wake
of Fletcher.
    I had expected to find myself in a cellar, but instead discovered that
we were in a small square court with the mist of the night about us
again. On a doorstep facing us stood a duplicate of the lamp upon the
box upstairs. Evidently this was designed to indicate the portals of
the Joy-Shop, for Fletcher pushed open the door, whose threshold
accommodated the lamp, and the light of the place beyond shone out
into our faces. We entered and my companion closed the door behind us.
    Before me I perceived a long low room lighted by flaming gas-burners,
the jets hissing and spluttering in the draught from the door, for
they were entirely innocent of shades or mantles. Wooden tables,
their surfaces stained with the marks of countless wet glasses, were
ranged about the place, café fashion; and many of these tables
accommodated groups, of nondescript nationality for the most part.
One or two there were in a distant corner who were unmistakably
Chinamen; but my slight acquaintance with the races of the East did
not enable me to classify the greater number of those whom I now saw
about me. There were several unattractive-looking women present.
    Fletcher walked up the