loreChurtonlaughed，saidthathefeltbetterforhistiffin，andwentoutPackhadbeentiffiningbyhimselftotherightofthearch，andhadheardeverythingHewasnearlymadwithhisabsurdinfatuationforMissHollisthatallSimlahadbeenlaughingabout。
Itisacuriousthingthat，whenamanhatesorlovesbeyondreason，heisreadytogobeyondreasontogratifyhisfeelingsWhichhewouldnotdoformoneyorpowermerelyDependuponit，SolomonwouldneverhavebuiltaltarstoAshtarothandallthoseladieswithqueernames，iftherehadnotbeentroubleofsomekindinhiszenana，andnowhereelseButthisisbesidethestoryThefactsofthecasearethese：PackcalledonChurtonnextdaywhenChurtonwasout，lefthiscard，andSTOLEtheBisaraofPooreefromitsplaceundertheclockonthemantelpiece！StoleitlikethethiefhewasbynatureThreedayslater，allSimlawaselectrifiedbythenewsthatMissHollishadacceptedPack——theshrivelledrat，Pack！Doyoudesireclearerevidencethanthis？TheBisaraofPooreehadbeenstolen，anditworkedasithadalwaysdonewhenwonbyfoulmeans。
Therearethreeorfourtimesinaman’slife-whenheisjustifiedinmeddlingwithotherpeople’saffairstoplayProvidence。
TheManwhoKnewfeltthatheWASjustified；butbelievingandactingonabeliefarequitedifferentthingsTheinsolentsatisfactionofPackasheambledbythesideofMissHollis，andChurton’sstrikingreleasefromliver，assoonastheBisaraofPooreehadgone，decidedtheManHeexplainedtoChurtonandChurtonlaughed，becausehewasnotbroughtuptobelievethatmenontheGovernmentHouseListsteal——atleastlittlethingsButthemiraculousacceptancebyMissHollisofthattailor，Pack，decidedhimtotakestepsonsuspicionHevowedthatheonlywantedtofindoutwherehisruby-studdedsilverboxhadvanishedtoYoucannotaccuseamanontheGovernmentHouseListofstealing。
AndifyouriflehisroomyouareathiefyourselfChurton，promptedbyTheManwhoKnew，decidedonburglaryIfhefoundnothinginPack’sroombutitisnotnicetothinkofwhatwouldhavehappenedinthatcase。
PackwenttoadanceatBenmore——BenmoreWASBenmoreinthosedays，andnotanoffice——anddancedfifteenwaltzesoutoftwenty-twowithMissHollisChurtonandTheMantookallthekeysthattheycouldlayhandson，andwenttoPack’sroominthehotel，certainthathisservantswouldbeawayPackwasacheapsoulHehadnotpurchasedadecentcash-boxtokeephispapersin，butoneofthosenativeimitationsthatyoubuyfortenrupeesItopenedtoanysortofkey，andthereatthebottom，underPack’sInsurancePolicy，laytheBisaraofPooree！
ChurtoncalledPacknames，puttheBisaraofPooreeinhispocket，andwenttothedancewithTheManAtleast，hecameintimeforsupper，andsawthebeginningoftheendinMissHollis’seyes。
Shewashystericalaftersupper，andwastakenawaybyherMamma。
Atthedance，withtheabominableBisarainhispocket，ChurtontwistedhisfootononeofthestepsleadingdowntotheoldRink，andhadtobesenthomeinarickshaw，grumblingHedidnotbelieveintheBisaraofPooreeanythemoreforthismanifestation，buthesoughtoutPackandcalledhimsomeuglynames；and“thief“
wasthemildestofthemPacktookthenameswiththenervoussmileofalittlemanwhowantsbothsoulandbodytoresentaninsult，andwenthiswayTherewasnopublicscandal。
Aweeklater，PackgothisdefinitedismissalfromMissHollis。
Therehadbeenamistakeintheplacingofheraffections，shesaid。
SohewentawaytoMadras，wherehecandonogreatharmevenifhelivestobeaColonel。
ChurtoninsisteduponTheManwhoKnewtakingtheBisaraofPooreeasagiftTheMantookit，wentdowntotheCartRoadatonce，foundanekkaponywithabluehead-necklace，fastenedtheBisaraofPooreeinsidethenecklacewithapieceofshoe-stringandthankedHeaventhathewasridofadangerRemember，incaseyoueverfindit，thatyoumustnotdestroytheBisaraofPooreeIhavenottimetoexplainwhyjustnow，butthepowerliesinthelittlewoodenfishMisterGubernatisorMaxMullercouldtellyoumoreaboutitthanI。
YouwillsaythatallthisstoryismadeupVerywellIfeveryoucomeacrossalittlesilver，ruby-studdedbox，seven-eighthsofaninchlongbythree-quarterswide，withadark-brownwoodenfish，wrappedingoldcloth，insideit，keepitKeepitforthreeyears，andthenyouwilldiscoverforyourselfwhethermystoryistrueorfalse。
Betterstill，stealitasPackdid，andyouwillbesorrythatyouhadnotkilledyourselfinthebeginning。
THEGATEOFAHUNDREDSORROWS。
“IfIcanattainHeavenforapice，whyshouldyoubeenvious？”
OpiumSmoker’sProverb。
ThisisnoworkofmineMyfriend，GabralMisquitta，thehalf-
caste，spokeitall，betweenmoonsetandmorning，sixweeksbeforehedied；andItookitdownfromhismouthasheansweredmyquestionsso：——
ItliesbetweentheCopper-smith’sGullyandthepipe-stemsellers’
quarter，withinahundredyards，too，asthecrowflies，oftheMosqueofWazirKhanIdon’tmindtellinganyonethismuch，butI
defyhimtofindtheGate，howeverwellhemaythinkheknowstheCityYoumightevengothroughtheverygullyitstandsinahundredtimes，andbenonethewiserWeusedtocallthegully，“theGullyoftheBlackSmoke。”butitsnativenameisaltogetherdifferentofcourseAloadeddonkeycouldn’tpassbetweenthewalls；and，atonepoint，justbeforeyoureachtheGate，abulgedhouse-frontmakespeoplegoalongallsideways。
Itisn’treallyagatethoughIt’sahouseOldFung-TchinghaditfirstfiveyearsagoHewasaboot-makerinCalcuttaTheysaythathemurderedhiswifetherewhenhewasdrunkThatwaswhyhedroppedbazar-rumandtooktotheBlackSmokeinsteadLateron，hecameupnorthandopenedtheGateasahousewhereyoucouldgetyoursmokeinpeaceandquietMindyou，itwasapukka，respectableopium-house，andnotoneofthosestifling，swelteringchandoo-khanas，thatyoucanfindallovertheCityNo；theoldmanknewhisbusinessthoroughly，andhewasmostcleanforaChinamanHewasaone-eyedlittlechap，notmuchmorethanfivefeethigh，andbothhismiddlefingersweregoneAllthesame，hewasthehandiestmanatrollingblackpillsIhaveeverseenNeverseemedtobetouchedbytheSmoke，either；andwhathetookdayandnight，nightandday，wasacautionI’vebeenatitfiveyears，andIcandomyfairshareoftheSmokewithanyone；butIwasachildtoFung-TchingthatwayAllthesame，theoldmanwaskeenonhismoney，verykeen；andthat’swhatIcan’tunderstandI
heardhesavedagooddealbeforehedied，buthisnephewhasgotallthatnow；andtheoldman’sgonebacktoChinatobeburied。
Hekeptthebigupperroom，wherehisbestcustomersgathered，asneatasanewpinInonecornerusedtostandFung-Tching’sJoss——
almostasuglyasFung-Tching——andtherewerealwayssticksburningunderhisnose；butyouneversmelt’emwhenthepipesweregoingthickOppositetheJosswasFung-Tching’scoffinHehadspentagooddealofhissavingsonthat，andwheneveranewmancametotheGatehewasalwaysintroducedtoitItwaslacqueredblack，withredandgoldwritingsonit，andI’veheardthatFung-TchingbroughtitoutallthewayfromChinaIdon’tknowwhetherthat’strueornot，butIknowthat，ifIcamefirstintheevening，IusedtospreadmymatjustatthefootofitItwasaquietcorneryousee，andasortofbreezefromthegullycameinatthewindownowandthenBesidesthemats，therewasnootherfurnitureintheroom——onlythecoffin，andtheoldJossallgreenandblueandpurplewithageandpolish。
Fung-Tchingnevertolduswhyhecalledtheplace“TheGateofaHundredSorrows。”HewastheonlyChinamanIknowwhousedbad-
soundingfancynamesMostofthemarefloweryAsyou’llseeinCalcutta。WeusedtofindthatoutforourselvesNothinggrowsonyousomuch，ifyou’rewhite，astheBlackSmokeAyellowmanismadedifferentOpiumdoesn’ttellonhimscarcelyatall；butwhiteandblacksufferagooddealOfcourse，therearesomepeoplethattheSmokedoesn’ttouchanymorethantobaccowouldatfirstTheyjustdozeabit，asonewouldfallasleepnaturally，andnextmorningtheyarealmostfitforworkNow，IwasoneofthatsortwhenIbegan，butI’vebeenatitforfiveyearsprettysteadily，anditsdifferentnowTherewasanoldauntofmine，downAgraway，andsheleftmealittleatherdeathAboutsixtyrupeesamonthsecuredSixtyisn’tmuchIcanrecollectatime，seemshundredsandhundredsofyearsago，thatIwasgettingmythreehundredamonth，andpickings，whenIwasworkingonabigtimbercontractinCalcutta。
Ididn’tsticktothatworkforlongTheBlackSmokedoesnotallowofmuchotherbusiness；andeventhoughIamverylittleaffectedbyit，asmengo，Icouldn’tdoaday’sworknowtosavemylifeAfterall，sixtyrupeesiswhatIwantWhenoldFung-Tchingwasaliveheusedtodrawthemoneyforme，givemeabouthalfofittoliveonIeatverylittle，andtheresthekepthimselfIwasfreeoftheGateatanytimeofthedayandnight，andcouldsmokeandsleeptherewhenIliked，soIdidn’tcareIknowtheoldmanmadeagoodthingoutofit；butthat’snomatterNothingmatters，muchtome；and，besides，themoneyalwayscamefreshandfresheachmonth。
TherewastenofusmetattheGatewhentheplacewasfirstopened。
Me，andtwoBaboosfromaGovernmentOfficesomewhereinAnarkulli，buttheygotthesackandcouldn’tpaynomanwhohastoworkinthedaylightcandotheBlackSmokeforanylengthoftimestraighton；aChinamanthatwasFung-Tching’snephew；abazar-womanthathadgotalotofmoneysomehow；anEnglishloafer——Mac-SomebodyI
think，butIhaveforgotten——thatsmokedheaps，butneverseemedtopayanythingtheysaidhehadsavedFung-Tching’slifeatsometrialinCalcuttawhenhewasabarrister：anotherEurasian，likemyself，fromMadras；ahalf-castewoman，andacoupleofmenwhosaidtheyhadcomefromtheNorthIthinktheymusthavebeenPersiansorAfghansorsomethingTherearenotmorethanfiveofuslivingnow，butwecomeregularIdon’tknowwhathappenedtotheBaboos；butthebazar-womanshediedaftersixmonthsoftheGate，andIthinkFung-Tchingtookherbanglesandnose-ringforhimselfButI’mnotcertainTheEnglishman，hedrankaswellassmoked，andhedroppedoffOneofthePersiansgotkilledinarowatnightbythebigwellnearthemosquealongtimeago，andthePoliceshutupthewell，becausetheysaiditwasfulloffoulair。
TheyfoundhimdeadatthebottomofitSo，yousee，thereisonlyme，theChinaman，thehalf-castewomanthatwecalltheMemsahibsheusedtolivewithFung-Tching，theotherEurasian，andoneofthePersiansTheMemsahiblooksveryoldnowIthinkshewasayoungwomanwhentheGatewasopened；butwearealloldforthematterofthatHundredsandhundredsofyearsoldItisveryhardtokeepcountoftimeintheGate，andbesides，timedoesn’tmattertomeIdrawmysixtyrupeesfreshandfresheverymonth。
Avery，verylongwhileago，whenIusedtobegettingthreehundredandfiftyrupeesamonth，andpickings，onabigtimber-contractatCalcutta，IhadawifeofsortsButshe’sdeadnowPeoplesaidthatIkilledherbytakingtotheBlackSmokePerhapsIdid，butit’ssolongsinceitdoesn’tmatterSometimeswhenIfirstcametotheGate，Iusedtofeelsorryforit；butthat’salloveranddonewithlongago，andIdrawmysixtyrupeesfreshandfresheverymonth，andamquitehappyNotDRUNKhappy，youknow，butalwaysquietandsoothedandcontented。
HowdidItaketoit？ItbeganatCalcuttaIusedtotryitinmyownhouse，justtoseewhatitwaslikeIneverwentveryfar，butIthinkmywifemusthavediedthenAnyhow，Ifoundmyselfhere，andgottoknowFung-TchingIdon’trememberrightlyhowthatcameabout；buthetoldmeoftheGateandIusedtogothere，and，somehow，IhavenevergotawayfromitsinceMindyou，though，theGatewasarespectableplaceinFung-Tching’stimewhereyoucouldbecomfortable，andnotatalllikethechandoo-khanaswheretheniggersgoNo；itwascleanandquiet，andnotcrowdedOfcourse，therewereothersbesideustenandtheman；butwealwayshadamatapiecewithawaddedwoollenhead-piece，allcoveredwithblackandreddragonsandthings；justlikeacoffininthecorner。