Even as these thoughts flashed across my mind, the man in the bed stirred. His eyes opened. He murmured something incoherently. Then I saw his glance fasten upon me. He made no sign of recognition, but I was at once aware that he was trying to speak to me. Be he friend or foe, I must hear what he had to say.

I leaned over the bed, but the broken sounds conveyed no sort of meaning to me. I thought I caught the word “hand,” but in what connection it was used I could not tell. Then it came again, and this time I heard another word, the word “Largo.” I stared in amazement, as the possible juxtaposition of the two suggested itself to me.

“ Handel’s Largo ?” I queried.

The Chinaman’s eyelids flickered rapidly, as though in assent, and he added another Italian word, the word “ carrozza .” Two or three more words of murmured Italian came to my ears, and then he fell back abruptly.