street, seeming to doubt the shadows which dusk was painting in
the narrow ways.

Many men who know Chinatown distrust its shadows, but the furtive
fear of which Grantham had become aware was due not to
anticipation but to memory--to a memory conjured up by that
gesture of Zahara's.

There were few people in London or elsewhere who knew the history
of this scallywag Englishman. That he had held the King's
commission at some time was generally assumed to be the fact, but
that his real name was not Grantham equally was taken for
granted. His continuing, nevertheless, to style himself "Major"
was sufficient evidence to those interested that Grantham lived
by his wits; and from the fact that he lived well and dressed
well one might have deduced that his wits were bright if his
morals were turbid.

Now, the gesture of a woman piqued had called up the deathless
past. Hurrying through nearly empty squalid streets, he found
himself longing to pronounce a name, to hear it spoken that he
might linger over its bitter sweetness. To this longing he
presently succumbed, and:

"Inez," he whispered, and again more loudly, "Inez."

Such a wave of lonely wretchedness and remorse swept up about his
heart that he was almost overwhelmed by it, yet he resigned
himself to its ruthless cruelty with a sort of savage joy. The
shadowed ways of Limehouse ceased to exist for him, and in spirit