He now relapsed in awe. His first impulse had been to use strength. He was aware of his strength because it had been tested and failed. The awe had to do with thirst. He had felt this before and became deadly afraid at the memory. He pressed his body into the seat again and cleared his throat.
Just now there was a voice in the corridor, a key in the door, and a Chinese gentleman in European attire entered smilingly, holding out his hand. The white man took the hand and tried to recall where he had seen that face before. It had nothing to do with China, nothing to do with recent years, yet somewhere before he had seen that smile, and something was glad within him.
"Well, Mr. Romney," said Dr. Ti Kung, "did you rest well?"
"Let me have a cigarette," the other said unsteadily.
A certain case was proffered again.
"Thanks. You haven't a touch of heartener—have you?"
"I have ordered refreshments," said Dr. Ti Kung, lighting a match.
"How did you hear of my trouble?"
"Trouble?"
"Well, the fact is," said Romney, "I was not altogether there when it happened—just a sort of night-shift working.... What did I do?"