THE SIAMESE CAT
Oryent. For cardts, women,fraudts, and allerlei badt business, sober or dronk, iss he der vorst." After intellectual labour, the antiquary played a red Knave cautiously upon a black Queen. "And dere are many off dem … You haf heardt, no, of der missionair' girl at der Boxers' troupple, who wass skinnedt alife? He safed his own skin zo. Oh, yess, it iss true." The antiquary leaned back and told a hideous story in detail, blowing pompous, contented clouds of cigar smoke, brushing the sparks from his Chefoo silk, and looking serenely out of the open door, where to the roll of the ship a large and lustrous star lowered and mounted in the pale moonlit blue. "Alzo, Borkman—he escaped with loot. Der efilmen brosber—immer so—Ach! … But he wass kicked out yet once, in a clubp off Zébu. Gootness me, yess."
The story was interesting if true, thought
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