‘What did you do with the portrait then? Not that I suppose it is much use any longer. He lives near the Black Lion. And I passed myself off as Meysey Hill, and since—then—I haven’t had a minute’s peace. Wild!" demanded Trenchard, as if he had formed a sudden resolution. She rang again with the same result. But threats and entreaties—even promises were ineffectual; and the unlucky captive, after exhausting his powers of persuasion, was compelled to give up the point. A white man, wandering about the streets of Canton at night, was a challenge to such a catastrophe.
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