In Macao | Page 5

lights of the oil lamps.
The streets were deserted as usual, here and there a policeman, hooded
like a pilgrim, sauntered leisurely along, or the Chinese watchman with
drum and clapper woke the echoes of the lonely ways warning thieves
of his approach.
The only illuminated houses were fan-tan houses and these presently
became numerous; now and then music was heard but not of a very
seductive kind. Into one of the largest and most gaily decorated houses,
Dom Pedro and Robert Adams went, climbing to the second floor by
stairs bordered with shrubs in huge Chinese pots.
The main playing room contained several tables or counters arranged
along the walls, behind which sat the croupiers; at one of these Dom
Pedro stopped. On the table was a plate of metal divided into quarters
of about a foot square by deep cut lines crossing it, each square being
marked in Chinese characters indicating one, two, three and four. The
croupiers rattled a pile of bright brass coins, with square holes in them,
called cash; then as Dom Pedro made a sign that he was about to play,
the croupier drew away a part of them under a bowl and Dom Pedro
placed his wager on number three. The croupier with a bamboo wand
then counted out the remaining cash one at a time in sets of four, until

finally there were but three left; this being Dom Pedro's number, he
won the stakes.
"In good luck to-night," he said, turning to Adams, "Try if this is a
lucky day for you." Robert Adams placed his money on the same
square which Dom Pedro had won from, and again the croupier
counted the remainder slowly, having drawn away some of the cash
under the bowl, four at a time until but two remained and Adams' stake
became part of the bank. "Lucky in love, unlucky at play" he said with
a laugh, "I shall bet no more to-night." Dom Pedro's face darkened but
in silence he continued winning at every count.
Above the table was a square hole in the ceiling opening into an upper
room where those could sit who did not wish to be seen, and were thus
able to let their bets down in a little basket and with the same draw up
their winnings. This upper room being purposely kept in half light
enabled its occupants to see those below without being seen
themselves.
Dom Pedro's luck was astonishing and quite a crowd of onlookers
gathered about. Robert Adams growing weary of the play in which he
took no interest, left, saying that he would walk slowly as far as the
ruined cathedral of St. Paul and on his return step in again. As he
stepped back from the table he looked up toward the opening in the
ceiling where were two women with faces wrapped in black silk
robosas, which showed only the eyes; as the eyes seemed fixed upon
him he raised his hat. The action seemed to cause the women
considerable consternation, for both hurriedly sprang back from the rail
and in doing so one let fall, upon the table below, the basket with a bit
of paper and several Mexican dollars which rolled about the room.
Everyone looked up laughing at the accident but no one from above
claimed the money. Adams left the room glad to be in the fresh air
under the clear, starlit sky.
No more lonely or picturesque ruin ever existed than the church of St.
Paul; though human habitations crowd close upon it, they are however
the houses of Chinese and make the Christian edifice seem the more
solitary. The church is of that favourite style of architecture so common

in new and old Spain, which always brings to the mind of the wanderer
in foreign lands the name of good San Xavier.
The half moon had risen high enough to illuminate the whole front as
Adams climbed the broad, massive steps to the paved space before it.
Leaning against the heavy balustrade he enjoyed the picture. The
shadows were deep and through the sightless windows shone a few
silver stars. The magnificent front of solid granite with graceful
scroll-work and carved outline, blackened here by smoke and there by
age, with vines and trees growing from crevices, stood in wondrous
beauty.
The detail showed clearer than by day; the panels in high relief, of full
rigged ship, the double dolphin and the skeleton seemed too fragile to
have stood through earthquake and typhoon and the conflagrations of
war for more than two hundred years. The exquisite frieze composed of
many unconventionalized flowers extending across the front, wherein
the artist and worker had been one, was a petrified garland. This scene
was a revelation to Adams for often as he