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"That's Saint Poalo there you can just make it out, up high, see. And those lights are the Boundary Gate. And this sweep of lights below here is the Praya. Now look where I 'm pointing. That's the Luiz Camoes lodging-house. You see the second window with the light in it?" "Yes, I see it." "Well, Binhart 's inside that window." "You know it?" "I know it."
What do you know about Luiz de Camoes, or, as we write it, Camoens, Dwight?" "Gracious! Nothing at all; never heard of him. Was he a fighter?" "Hardly. At any rate he did his fighting in a noble way rather like heaping coals of fire I should say. He was a writer." "Oh, tell us about him, uncle." "What! A lecture? But that is not admissible in polite society." "Now, don't tease.
When he had got Binhart, he remembered, he would have to look about for something to eat, for he was as hungry as a wolf. And he did not even hear the girl's second soft whisper of "Good-by." That stolid practicality which had made Blake a successful operative asserted itself in the matter of his approach to the Luiz Camoes house, the house which had been pointed out to him as holding Binhart.
"Oh, I 'll slip down through the Quarter and cop some clothes somewhere. Then I 'll have a sampan take me out to the German boat. It 'll start for Canton at daylight." "And then?" asked Blake, watching the window of the Luiz Camoes lodging-house below him. "Then I 'll work my way up to Port Arthur, I suppose. There 's a navy man there who 'll help me!" "Have n't you any money?"
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