There is everywhere at night in China the original fear of darkness.
From the portals of the hotel--scarcely fifty yards from the canal--one saw the blank face of the ancient city of Canton.

Blank it was, except for a gate near the bridgehead.

Into this hole in the wall and out of it the native stream flowed from sunrise to sunset, when the stream mysteriously ceased.

The silence of Canton at night was sinister, for none could prophesy what form of mob might suddenly boil out.
No Cantonese was in those days permitted to cross to the Sha-mien after sunset without a license.

To simplify matters, he carried a coloured paper lantern upon which his license number was painted in Arabic numerals.