Megan closed her eyes, opening them suddenly again. The General was handing his cigarette to the lady to extinguish for him. He leaned his head more firmly on the seat-back and closed his eyes. The lady watched him and, seeing he did not appear comfortable, slipped an embroidered satin pillow back of his head. He did not thank her, his eyes remained closed and his head slipped forward slightly. Apparently he was asleep. Megan watched him without restraint. His hair, growing in a peak from the well-modeled forehead, was smooth and black as a Spaniard's; with his eyes closed, their prominence, the effect of the Mongolian slant, were exaggerated and some of the masculinity of the face was lost, so that he looked like one of those sculptured heads of androgynous Eastern deities. The lady also watched him for a time to be quite sure he slept. Then she put a smaller pillow behind her own head and closed her eyes. Even in her sleep her smile, fragile and seductive, hovered on her lips. Megan slept and awoke with the certainty that she had slept long. "Oh, yes, that Chinese train." She was for a moment even frightened. Some quality of the light had changed, it must be afternoon. Very close to the window and throwing its shadow into the compartment passed a great crenelated wall hung with tattered vines. A towered water-gate made a fantastic opening in it. The lady had covered her satin coat with a darker one trimmed with fur. The General with her help was putting on a military overcoat. Then he bent down to look out the window, yawned copiously and smoothed back his hair before putting on his cap. The orderly came in to assemble the luggage. In the corridor the soldiers were standing at attention, flattened against the wall to make a passage. Seeing Megan was awake the lady leaned over her. "We are here now," she said. "Your tiresome trip is over. Do you feel well?" "Not too well." The General spoke to her in Chinese and after a few words she turned again to Megan. "The General thinks it will be better for you not to walk through the station. He will arrange to have you carried out in a chair. You must be very quiet." "Where are we going? What general?" Megan was suddenly angry. "Who is this general?" The lady's reply meant nothing until she had repeated it several times over. Finally she penetrated the unfamiliar pronunciation, "General Yen Tso-Chong." Doctor Strike's General. And the concubine. [Illustration: Chapter XII headpiece] CHAPTER XII