Ho-hum! CHAPTER IX The Hong-Kong packet lay alongside the warehouse frontage. The windows were grated, the doors barred; each room had the name as well as the appearance of a cell; and the very porter who stood at the gate, habited like a jailer, with his huge bunch of keys at his girdle, his forbidding countenance and surly demeanour seemed to be borrowed from Newgate. From the centre of the ceiling hung a replica of the temple lamp in the Taj Mahal. Sanguine they were not. And you will. I ate only enough to keep body and soul together.
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