"Is this the lady who left the clothes here a few nights ago?" I asked.
He stopped and stared, recognizing me slowly, and remembering by degrees what had passed between us at our last interview.
"You tellee me lalee die; how him lalee when lalee die?"
"The lady is not dead; I made a mistake. Is this the lady?"
"Lalee talk; I no see face, I hear speak."
"Have you seen this man before?" I inquired of my nearly insensible companion.
"I think so in a dream," she murmured, trying to recall her poor wandering wits back from some region into which they had strayed.
"Him lalee!" cried the Chinaman, overjoyed at the prospect of getting his money. "Pletty speak, I knowee him. Lalee want clo?"
"Not to-night. The lady is sick; see, she can hardly stand." And overjoyed at this seeming evidence that the police had failed to get wind of my interest in this place, I slipped a coin into the Chinaman's hand, and drew Miss Oliver away towards the carriage I now saw drawing up before the shop.
Lena's eyes when she came up to help me were a sight to see. They seemed to ask who this girl was and what I was going to do with her. I answered the look by a very brief and evidently wholly unexpected explanation.