"You can," replied Ajax, "and you must."
The man glared at us. Doubtless he guessed the nature of our errand,
and wished to protect his friend from the interference of Philistines,
Then he smiled evilly, and laughed.
"All right; come on. I ain't goin' to take yer to the Palace Hotel."
He opened the till and slipped some money into his pocket. Then he put
on a ragged overcoat, and a hat which he drew down over his eyes with
a furtive jerk of his yellow fingers. Then he went behind the bar and
swallowed something; it was not whisky, but it brought a faint tinge
of colour into his cheek, and seemed to stiffen his knees.
"Shall we walk, boys, or shall I send for my carriage?"
"Your carriage," repeated Ajax. "Are you speaking of the patrol-
waggon? It is just round the corner."
This allusion to the police was not wasted upon The Babe's friend, who
scowled and retorted glibly--
"There's better men than you, mister, who ride in that."
After this exchange of pleasantries we took the road, and followed our
guide across a great thorough-fare and into Kearney Street. Thence
into the labyrinth of Chinatown.
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