rickshaws were to be seen in the quiet, dawn-lit streets, so Mark set off resolutely toward the Soochow bridge and presently stood outside his hotel. He stood there rather giddily, wondering whether it really was his hotel and whether he had dreamed all this wild thing on a bench in the park. But—he had no hat and the precious paper was in his breast-pocket.
He sat down on the step and put his head in his hands.
"I wonder if Jane will believe this," he thought, disjointedly.
At that moment he heard quick footsteps, and Alan's arm was around his shoulders. Mr. Tyler stood beside him.
"Thank Heaven!" said Mr. Tyler. "The municipal police are looking for you, too, and this boy's been nearly off his head."
"I have the paper," Mark said, with an uncertain grin. "That is, I think I have, unless I dreamed the whole business."
He felt in his pocket and pulled out both the papers. Mr. Tyler stared. Mark looked across to the bund, where people were beginning to move about. He passed a hand over his dirty face.
