Abruptly, I pulled up; for this stuffy little den did not correspond with pre-conceived ideas of the place for which we were bound.  I was about to speak when Fletcher nipped my arm—­and out from the shadows behind the packing-case a little bent figure arose!

I started violently, for I had had no idea that another was in the room.  The apparition proved to be a Chinaman, and judging from what I could see of him, a very old Chinaman, his bent figure attired in a blue smock.  His eyes were almost invisible amidst an intricate map of wrinkles which covered his yellow face.

“Evening, John,” said Fletcher—­and, pulling me with him, he made for the head of the steps.

As I came abreast of the packing-case, the Chinaman lifted the lamp and directed its light fully upon my face.

Great as was the faith which I reposed in my make-up, a doubt and a tremor disturbed me now, as I found myself thus scrutinized by those cunning old eyes looking out from the mask-like, apish face.  For the first time the Chinaman spoke.

“You blinger fliend, Charlie?” he squeaked in a thin, piping voice.

“Him play piecee card,” replied Fletcher briefly.  “Good fellow, plenty much money.”

He descended the steps, still holding my arm, and I perforce followed him.  Apparently John’s scrutiny and Fletcher’s explanation respecting me, together had proved satisfactory; for the lamp was replaced upon the lid of the packing-case, and the little bent figure dropped down again into the shadows from which it had emerged.

“Allee lightee,” I heard faintly as I stumbled downward in the wake of Fletcher.

I had expected to find myself in a cellar, but instead discovered that we were in a small square court with the mist of the night about us again.  On a doorstep facing us stood a duplicate of the lamp upon the box upstairs.  Evidently this was designed to indicate the portals of the Joy-Shop, for Fletcher pushed open the door, whose threshold accommodated the lamp, and the light of the place beyond shone out into our faces.  We entered and my companion closed the door behind us.

Before me I perceived a long low room lighted by flaming gas-burners, the jets hissing and spluttering in the draught from the door, for they were entirely innocent of shades or mantles.  Wooden tables, their surfaces stained with the marks of countless wet glasses, were ranged about the place, cafe fashion; and many of these tables accommodated groups, of nondescript nationality for the most part.  One or two there were in a distant corner who were unmistakably Chinamen; but my slight acquaintance with the races of the East did not enable me to classify the greater number of those whom I now saw about me.  There were several unattractive-looking women present.

Fletcher walked up the center of the place, exchanging nods of recognition with two hang-dog poker-players, and I was pleased to note that our advent had apparently failed to attract the slightest attention.  Through an opening on the right-hand side of the room, near the top, I looked into a smaller apartment, occupied exclusively by Chinese.  They were playing some kind of roulette and another game which seemed wholly to absorb their interest.  I ventured no more than a glance, then passed on with my companion.