1. Chapter XXII AN OLD FOOL Lady Ferringhall made room for him on the sofa by her side. After all, it was what she had been praying for—and Annabel could not have known her address. Why hadn't he admitted that he recognized the photograph? What instinct had impelled him swiftly to assume his Oriental mask? "Why?" asked O'Higgins. " "I wish you did have some faults, Ruth. 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. ‘Civilian peace-keeping forces, you know. As he understood it, folks saw in two or three days all there was to see of Canton. "Oh! that I could live to see it," gasped Jonathan. ‘In that case, he is probably already dead, and you have nothing to worry about. " "You are heiress to the Trenchard property," rejoined Jonathan, "one of the largest estates in Lancashire.
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