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128 of Hong Kong. The friend lived the best part of a mile away, and we did not reach his residence until after nine o'clock.

The message delivered, we started on our return. It had been dark and threatening a storm, but instead of rain a heavy mist crept up from the China Sea, through which the scattered street lights shone like tiny yellow candles.

"It's beastly," remarked Dan, as he buttoned up his coat around his neck. "I shall be glad when we are safe home and in bed. My, how good it will feel to get back into my own bed again!"

"It will beat sleeping in a dirty Tagal hut, won't it?" I laughed.

"Indeed it will, Oliver. That experience was—" Dan broke off short. "What's that?"

A loud cry came from behind, a man's voice.

"Help, help! Murder! help!"

"Somebody is in trouble!" I ejaculated.

"What had we best do?"

The question remained unanswered in words, but both of us broke into a run, heading as closely as we could for the spot from whence the cry came.

The mist confused us not a little, and as the cries ceased we paused in perplexity.

"Where are you?" I yelled.

"What's up?" added Dan.