Page:Ballinger Price--Fortune of the Indies.djvu/215

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THE SHAM-POO
193

Alan lurched wildly and snatched at the other side of the hole. The opening yawned wide, filled with stars. Alan pulled himself up, kicking desperately, flung a leg over the wall-top and sat astride a stout beam, looking out over soundless dim roofs lit only by vague starlight.

"Quick!" he whispered, reaching down his hand to Mark.

His brother caught it and scaled the wall, and both slid cautiously down the treacherous roof and softly dropped to the ground below. The rambling wings of the ruined house stretched around them. They stumbled over fallen slabs of marble and slipped on the mossy edge of unseen, empty lotus-pools. Now following the wall, now creeping out into the shadow, they won at last to the gate by which they had entered the mansion. In the great hall the boat-coolies lay stretched in uncouth postures, sleeping heavily beside the last embers of their fire. The opium-lamp that had drugged their senses till dawn smoked faintly. Farther on, from a doorway, another faint glow crept out.

Mark and Alan slipped past the coolies and flattened themselves against the wall outside this door. Mark, with infinite caution, peered