Basically a kindly man but made cynical and derisive by sordid contacts, O'Higgins had almost forgotten that there was such a thing as unselfishness. Knives were worse, especially when you were stabbed back and left traces of your own blood at the crime scene. He ushered them with an amiable flat hand into a minute apartment with a little gas-stove, a silk crimson-covered sofa, and a bright little table, gay with napery and hot-house flowers. . No Cantonese was in those days permitted to cross to the Sha-mien after sunset without a license. “See you to-night, I suppose?” He sauntered off.
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