"Lor' bless you, lovey dearie, he's jes' stepped out for a dram. He'll be back in no time. Wot's it you wants, sweet sweety?"
"Are they awake?" asked Miriam, indicating the apparently insensate forms on the mattresses.
"One of 'em is, lovey, he 'asn't had 'is yet. But he's noo to the pipes, yer see, ducky, and it won't take long to get him orf. Here, dearie, this is as strong as strong."
The man, who had thrown an indifferent glance at Miriam, clutched the pipe and lay back on the bed to indulge in it.
"He'll be off directly, pretty dovey," droned Mother Mandarin, loosening his collar; "he's noo to it."
One of the Lascars emitted a horrible sound and rolled over.
"'E's a dreamin', yuss! I knows they're 'untin' you, pore 'eathen. Don't you let 'em catch you, dearie!"
"What are you talking about?" inquired Miriam, looking at the motionless figures.
Mother Mandarin stoked the fire.
"'Bout them, dovey; I don't know what you calls 'em. When you takes the stuff they comes a 'untin' you. I've met 'em myself in the galleries—no faces, or 'ands, or nothin'; but they ketches you!"