Ennison’s manner was certainly not one of a willing host. From the portals of the hotel—scarcely fifty yards from the canal—one saw the blank face of the ancient city of Canton. He continued his ditty, in spite of the angry glances of his leader. Never had her father explained. The door opened, and a slightly overweight pretty blonde, an older, wiser version of Michelle, came into view. Impassive by nature and training, he was conscious to-night of a strange sense of excitement, of exhilaration tempered by a dull background of disappointment. But Gerald kept to a casual note.
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