“Oh, Mr. Wilton,” said Mrs. Bowser, “it was awful of you—for it was so frightfully improper to get behind that locked door, to say nothing of throwing us all into conniptions with firing guns, and calling for axes, and highbinders, and police, and Heaven knows what all—and what are highbinders, Mr. Wilton? And it's a blessing we have our dear Luella safe with us again. I was near fainting all the time, and it's a mercy I had a smelling bottle.”
“Dear Luella” looked distressed, and while Corson was attempting to explain to Mrs. Bowser the nature of the blackmailing bands of the Chinese criminal element, Luella said:
“Please get us out of this. I can't stand it.”
I had marveled at her calm amid the excited talk of those about her, but I saw now that it was forced by an effort of her will. She was sadly shaken.
“Take my arm,” I said. “Mr. Corson will lead the way.” I signed to Porter to go ahead and to Barkhouse and Wainwright to follow me. “It's very close here.”
“It's very ridiculous of me,” said Luella, with an hysterical laugh, “but I'm a little upset.”
“I dare say you're not used to it,” I suggested dryly.
Luella gave me a quick glance.
“No, are you? It's not customary in our family,” she said with an attempt at gaiety.
I thought of the wolf-figure who had come out of the opium-den, and the face framed in the lantern-flash of the alley, and was silent. Perhaps the thought of the scene of the passage had come to her, too, for she shuddered and quickened her step as though to escape.