He came down to Shack-Town, and stopped. He was hot but again he sweated ice. He looked down the road and saw figures moving. "Which is the shack?" he asked himself. He went past Wong's house, where Jenny lay on a table with ten jabbering Chinamen around her. He heard a high-low sing-song of their chatter and cursed his boy Sam for leaving the house as he had done. "I'll kick the damn stuffin' out of him," said Quin savagely. He passed Indian Annie's and saw the group beyond it, standing about Pete's recumbent body. Skookum Charlie was almost in tears to think that Pete would be hanged. Annie wiped her bloody face with her skirt. Annawillee, howling curses at Pete, sat by her. "What's all this?" said Quin, coming out of the darkness. He saw Pete, or rather saw a body. He spoke hoarsely. "Mista Quin, oh!" said Skookum, scrambling to his feet. "What is it?" asked Quin again. "Kahta mamook yukwa? What do you do here?" "Pete him kill Jenny," screamed Annawillee. Quin staggered back. "He, he----" He pointed at the drunken man. "Not mimaloose, him dlunk," said Annawillee, "Jenny with Chinaman." Skookum led Quin, the big Tyee, to Wong's shack. "If she's dead----" said Quin, looking towards Pete. He opened Wong's door. The room was eight feet by twelve by ten: it reeked of fierce tobacco and the acrid fumes of "dope." Some of them "hit the pipe," smoked opium. The smell was China; Quin, who had been there, knew it. With the odours of Canton were the odours of bad oil. Three lamps ate up the air. Quin saw a row of whitish masks about the table: some excited, some stupid, one or two villainous. At the head of the table was the quiet majestic head of the old philosopher Wong. He had a great domed skull and a skin of drawn parchment over wide bones. With a sponge he wiped blood from Jenny's face. Sam held a bowl of water. He looked anxious and strange. And Jenny's body, in white linen and crimson silk, fouled with sawdust and blood, lay there quietly. "Is she dead?" asked Quin. The philosopher, whose shiny skin declared his love of opium, said she was not dead. "My tinkee she all light bymby," said Wong, "She belongy you, Tyee?" "Turn the others out," said the Tyee, and at Wong's word they fled out of the door, and stood in the dark jabbering about Quin having taken Jenny. Quin turned on Sam. "Why did you leave the house, Sam? My tell you stop, you damn thief!" Sam, now as pale as Jenny, threw out his hands in urgent deprecation of Quin's anger. "My no go out," he lied, "my stay allo tim' with Missus, maskee she go out and my no findee. I lun down here, Mista Quin, lun queek, findee damn Pete hurtee Missus. T'at tlue. My tellee Missus no cly: maskee she lead Bible and cly. My no can do." He wrung his hands. Perhaps what he said was true. Quin felt Jenny's pulse and found it at last. He saw she breathed. "I'll have her home," he said.