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MIKE FEENEY came into the saloon fearfully. It was not his first visit, but many things had happened since he was here last. Vinsetti, for example--the peculiar circumstances of his passing had been a nine--days' wonder in the world of gangdom. A place of death, this, for all the masses of blooms that frothed in blue Ming vases, for all the austerity of the organ and the faint fragrance of burning joss--sticks.
He turned at the door and addressed his followers loudly, rather to encourage himself with the knowledge of their support than to offer them instructions.