Chapter Twenty-Eight
The sailor brought low – the opium den – the bowler hatted man again – a long flight ended – reporting in
It was mostly through luck that Dr Grant escaped the mob. Their slow reaction had enabled his initial flight, but his pursuers were locals. They knew the streets better than he. Salvation came purely through luck. As he rounded a corner, he saw a sweep come out of a door, and slipped in before the man could close it.
The doorway led to the basement of a decrepit hotel. It smelled of sweet smoke and sweat in a mixture that he knew all too well. Opium.
The walls of the basement were lined with jerry-built bunks, covered with noisome bedding. A cold-eyed Bengali tough acted as doorman. A matronly Englishwoman mixed the opium and took his money.
Grant lay on a bun
