"
"Why--that's funny," said Francisco. "Yesterday a woman by that name was
captured by the mission-workers in a raid on Chinatown. I wonder....
Could it be the same one?"
"Not likely," the physician answered. "It's a common name, I think.
Still--" he looked at Po Lun.
"Run and get her," Alice urged. "It's a chance. Go quickly."
Half an hour passed; an hour, while the watchers waited at the bedside
of Po Lun. Gradually his respiration waned. Several times the nurse
called the physician, thinking death had come. But a spark still
lingered, growing fainter with the minutes till a mist upon a mirror was
the only sign that breath remained.
Suddenly there was a rush of feet, a door flung open and Francisco
entered, half dragging a Chinese woman by the arm. She gazed with
frantic eyes from Alice to Robert till her glance took in the figure on
the bed. She stared at it curiously, incredulously. Then she gave a
little cry and flung herself toward Po Lun.
What she said no one there present knew. What strange cabal she invoked
is still a mystery. Be that as it may, eyes which had seemed closed
forever, opened. Lips white, bloodless, breathed a scarce-heard whisper.
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