For a time Spurlock did not move. Her confession was still unmade. He cherished her. ‘Would you like me to enquire for your mystery lady, Gerald? I know the Comte and Comtesse de St Erme quite well. How clever she was, to fool everybody so easily! Not yet had any one suspected the truth: that she was, in a certain worldly sense, only four weeks old, that her every act had been written down on paper beforehand, and that her success lay in rigidly observing the rules which she herself had drafted to govern her conduct. . Capes?” she heard her aunt saying. “I shall probably want you to come down to the ‘Unusual’ to-morrow morning,” he said. She began to exercise those lures which were bred in her bone—the bones of all women. Yet, here she was, in the ancient Chinese city, weaving in and out of the narrow streets some scarcely wide enough for two men to walk abreast, streets that boiled and eddied with yellow human beings, who worshipped strange gods, ate strange foods, and diffused strange suffocating smells. Plain, wide-mouthed, freckled, and ugly, she was an instantly jealous creature, her saving grace that she took no pains to mask her extreme dislike 47 of petite, pretty girls. “You—appear to know my name, sir,” Sir John said.
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