“Katy Pfister. ’ She edged sideways a little more, her eyes on the pistol in his hand. He walked through the misty September night to his rooms. ‘His granddaughter?’ ‘Yes, his son’s daughter. " But Thames had no intention of following his friend's advice. She returned home through a world that was as roseate as it had been gray overnight. Canton was something like a blind alley; unless you were native, you couldn't get anywhere except by returning to Hong-Kong and starting afresh. Meantime the spinsters sought the dining room where tea was being served. She was almost tempted to tell him, if only to see the cracks of surprise and incredulity break the immobility of his yellow countenance. ‘Not where we’re going. “Okay.
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