“Nice thing to do at the very end!” Sparky growled. “If we’re in enemy territory we’re in a bad way!” Snapping off the lights, he headed for the door.
All the strange, rolling balls of light were gone. About them it was dark as a subway when the lights are off.
“Sparky,” Mary insisted as her feet hit the pavement, “it was a miracle! You don’t dare say it wasn’t!”
“Oh! Can’t I!” Sparky squeezed her arm. “At least I’m bound to try. That, my dear Mary, was what they call St. Elmo’s Fire.”
“St. Elmo’s Fire!”
“Sure! It’s a form of electrical disturbance. I picked it up once when I was half way across the Atlantic. The scientists say it’s harmless. Probably they’re partly right, but I claim that a thing that scares you to death can’t be entirely harmless.
“And now,” he added, “since we’ve put one more ghost to rest, let’s find out where we are.”
“Hop Sing,” he called.
“Right here, Mr. Sparky.”
“Hop Sing, this is your country, China. Where are we?”