Her first impulse was to fly to the window; and she was about to pass through it, at the risk of sharing the fate of the unfortunate lady, when her arm was grasped by some one in the act of ascending the ladder from without. She had, by the magic of recollection, set the picture of the typhoon between herself and her table companions: the terrible rollers thundering on the white shore, the deafening bellow of the wind, the bending and snapping palms, the thatches of the native huts scattering inland, the blur of sand dust, and those two outcasts defying the elements. Her eyes were fixed upon the ground, the pink colour coming and going in her cheeks was very delicate and girlish. The work of plunder over, that of destruction commenced. He was six blocks away from his home, a ten story building apparently made solely of glass. Ho-hum! CHAPTER IX The Hong-Kong packet lay alongside the warehouse frontage.
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