"
He propped his elbows on the long sill, and leaned out, venting
fragments of disgust. Then of a sudden he turned, and beckoned eagerly.
"Come here, you chaps. Look-see."
The others joined him. Gray vapors from river and paddy-field, lingering
like steam in a slow breeze, paled and dispersed in the growing light,
as the new day, worse than the old, came sullenly without breath or
respite. A few twilight shapes were pattering through the narrow
street--a squad of Yamen runners haling a prisoner.
"The Sword-Pen remains active," said Heywood, thoughtfully. "That dingy
little procession, do you know, it's quite theatrical? The Cross and the
Dragon. Eh? Another act's coming."
Even Rudolph could spare a misgiving from his own difficulty while he
watched the prisoner. It was Chok Chung, the plump Christian merchant,
slowly trudging toward the darkest of human courts, to answer for the
death of the cormorant-fisher. The squad passed by. Rudolph saw again
the lighted shop, the tumbled figure retching on the floor; and with
these came a memory of that cold and scornful face, thinking so cruelly
among the unthinking rabble.
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