He measured out the portion of another peg, the bottle wavering in his hand. He said. Then Mr. He, next, tried to clamber up the flying buttresses and soffits of the pier, in the hope of reaching some of the windows and other apertures with which, as a man-of-war is studded with port-holes, the sides of the bridge were pierced. “Not a bit. Fancy, as they say hereabouts!" What had aroused this open-air monologue was a small tin sign in a window. CHAPTER VIII. Henry Clay, thirteen cents in Hong-Kong and two-bits in that dear old New York. ’ ‘A very low stratagem, Hilary,’ Gerald said, turning on his captain with mock severity.
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