"To-night," she said quickly. "I'll meet you. Let me see. On the Desvoeux Road side of the Hong Kong Hotel balcony, the restaurant, upstairs, you know."
"Right!" agreed Peter with enthusiasm. "Will we let husband go along?"
Her face suddenly darkened. She shook her head.
"I will be alone. So will you, at seven o'clock. You'll be there, without fail?"
A coolie guarded her luggage near by impatiently. They could hear the sobbing of the J. C. J. passenger launch as it rounded the starboard counter.
"I forget," said Peter, with his flashing smile. "I'll be dead in an hour. The steel trap of China, you know."
"Please don't jest."
"I'll tell you what I will do. I'll put a tag on my lapel, saying, deliver this corpse to the Desvoeux Road balcony of the Hong Kong Hotel restaurant at seven sharp to-night! Without fail! C. O. D.!"
These last words were addressed to the empty wireless cabin doorway. The white skirt of Romola Borria flashed like a taunting signal as she hastened out of his sight with the boy who carried her grips.