lovely body in his arms and strained her to him. He crooned a bit of a threnody to her. Then at last he placed her in a flower bed among the blossoms that she loved. All the flowers seemed to sway toward her. Was there the sound of muffled sobbing in the wind? Quiet, still was the garden. Even the music of the birds was hushed. Solitude, solitude and utter desolation.
A few moments later Hung Long Tom fled from the garden never to return. He knew that if he stayed he would be accused of murder and the power of Lotus Blossom's father, the Mandarin, was sufficient to make justice speedy and sure. It was not hard to lose oneself among the maze of countless alleys that make a jig-saw puzzle of Canton. For miles he walked. How far he knew not. Later he loitered in a tea-house until night had descended in all its mystery over Canton. Then stealthily he made his way to the Pearl River where it was quite easy to book passage upon a junk for Bangkok. No one aboard was inquisitive.
No one cared the slightest bit about
