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"Last Monday I had finished for the day and was dressing in my

room above the opium den when I looked out of my window and saw,

to my horror and astonishment, that my wife was standing in the

street, with her eyes fixed full upon me. I gave a cry of

surprise, threw up my arms to cover my face, and, rushing to my

confidant, the Lascar, entreated him to prevent anyone from

coming up to me. I heard her voice downstairs, but I knew that

she could not ascend. Swiftly I threw off my clothes, pulled on

those of a beggar, and put on my pigments and wig. Even a wife's

eyes could not pierce so complete a disguise. But then it

occurred to me that there might be a search in the room, and that

the clothes might betray me. I threw open the window, reopening

by my violence a small cut which I had inflicted upon myself in

the bedroom that morning. Then I seized my coat, which was

weighted by the coppers which I had just transferred to it from

the leather bag in which I carried my takings.