On the right were several mounted grenadiers: on the left, some half dozen javelin-men. Presently he felt motion. "This is very fine of you, Miss…. Also, you must send someone to fetch my horse—at least, it is not mine but I have borrowed it to come here—because it will be dark very soon and—’ ‘Woof! Hold it, hold it,’ begged the sergeant. The silence of Canton at night was sinister, for none could prophesy what form of mob might suddenly boil out. She found the silence comforting, as old people often do. Then for the first time she was conscious of an unaccountable and terrifying sensation.
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