“Oh, I’ll slip down through the Quarter and cop some clothes somewhere. Then I’ll have a sampan take me out to the German boat. It’ll start for Canton at daylight.”
“And then?” asked Blake, watching the window of the Luiz Camoes lodging-house below him.
“Then I’ll work my way up to Port Arthur, I suppose. There’s a navy man there who’ll help me!”
“Haven’t you any money?” Blake put the question a little uneasily.
Again he felt the careless coo of laughter.
“Feel!” she said. She caught his huge hand between hers and pressed it against her waist line. She rubbed his fingers along what he accepted as a tightly packed coin-belt. He was relieved to think that he would not have to offer her money. Then he peered over the coping tiles to make sure of his means of descent.
“You had better go first,” she said, as she leaned out and looked down at his side. “Crawl down this next roof to the end there. At the corner, see, is the end of the ladder.”
He stooped and slipped his feet into his shoes. Then he let himself cautiously down to the adjoining roof, steeper even than the one on which they had stood. She bent low over the tiles, so that her face was very close to his as he found his footing and stood there.
“Good-by, white man,” she whispered.
“Good-by!” he whispered back, as he worked his way cautiously and ponderously along that perilous slope.