"Ah Moy, shrieking, turned and fled.
[Illustration: "Ah Moy, shrieking, turned and fled!"]
"He finally took refuge from his imaginary pursuer at Wo Hong's. Here he
drank repeatedly a fiery liquor which the proprietor, serenely
untroubled by the revenue laws, dispensed to his pals for a trifle. When
Ah Moy staggered into his den several hours later, Quong Lee, who had
arrived on the scene, noted with much satisfaction the ghastly
appearance of his friend.
"'If he keeps this up for any length of time,' thought the learned man,
'I shall be spared the performance of a very unpleasant act. Murder is
not in my line--now--anyway. It is trying work for an old man like
me--and the police forever at one's heels!'
"Leaving his associates in charge of the tables, Ah Moy wearily sought
the adjoining room, a filthy, ill-lighted apartment, with rows of bunks
along its sides. Opening a cupboard he drew forth a pipe and a small jar
of opium. His stained fingers trembled violently as he rolled a much
larger pill than usual and placed it in the bowl of his pipe. He had
consumed a frightful quantity of the stuff in the past few days, and his
nerves were in just the condition that required a larger amount than
ever to quiet them.
"He stretched himself at full length in the nearest bunk and proceeded
to lull the awful fantasies which threatened his reason.
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