“I must go back to the warehouse,” he says, after considering my remark. “I will come to see you to-night.”
He shakes hands; and a coolie who has been staring at my “strange white face,” as I overheard him call it, for at least five minutes, to the neglect of his work, appears much mystified by the supposed rite.
I am glad Kotmasu is coming, as I wish him to believe in my experiment as thoroughly as I do myself.
The books have come, and I return to the warehouse of my parcels-agent to see if they are unpacked.
Mr. Karu’s office is always a source of wonder to me.
The amount of business transacted there, in a building of toy-like dimensions and fragile structure, was little less than marvellous. Whenever a parcel heavier than usual was dropped on the floor by a careless coolie, I expected that the room, with
