One morning, as he took his stand on the Hong-Kong packet dock to ambush the possible tourist, he witnessed the arrival of a tubby schooner, dirty gray and blotched as though she had run through fire. Sheppard had been confined, Blueskin discovered a trap-door which he had not previously noticed. Her clock had stopped—stopped at the very hour on which she had quitted the Mint! She had not the heart to wind it up again. She leaped suddenly at a desperate resolution, and in one moment had made it into a new self. He went in and leaned, panting, against one wall.
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