the smell of it. The boat's only timepiece had gone off in Mark's pocket, and it seemed to Alan that hours went by, though how many he could not tell. Presently he became aware of some added stir among the shipping, and saw, gliding up, a blue-canopied boat full of Chinese clad in gorgeous, if somewhat spectacular, uniforms. It was a river police-boat, and it drew in beside the Sham-Poo. The official in command stood up in the bow, looked piercingly at Alan and his singular outfit, and then hailed him in Chinese. To this Alan replied, in English, that he did not speak the language. At that the official clambered into the bow of the Sham-Poo and gazed again about the boat and its personnel.
"Where you come?" he asked.
"Nangpoo," Alan answered, hugely relieved to hear something like English from this theatrically attired gentleman. The officer raised an eyebrow slightly.
"Where go?" he inquired.
"Shanghai-side."
The other eyebrow went up, and the officer peered incredulously at Alan.
"One boy; no coolie?"
