3313	----	A BIT OF OLD CHINA By Charles Warren Stoddard China is not more Chinese than this section of our Christian city, nor the heart of Tartary less American. Here little China flaunts her scarlet streamers overhead, and flanks her doors with legends in saffron and gold; even its window panes have a foreign look, and within is a glimmering of tinsel, a subdued light, and china lamps flickering before graven images of barbaric hideousness. This description Of Old San Francisco's Chinatown has been taken from Charles Warren Stoddard's book, entitled, "In the Footprints of the Padres," which contains his memories of early days in California. A BIT OF OLD CHINA "It is but a step from Confucius to confusion," said I, in a brief discussion of the Chinese question. "Then let us take it by all means," replied the artist, who had been an indulgent listener for at least ten minutes. We were strolling upon the verge of the Chinese Quarter in San Francisco, and, turning aside from one of the chief thoroughfares of the city, we plunged into the busiest portion of Chinatown. From our standpoint--the corner of Kearny and Sacramento Streets--we got the most favorable view of our Mongolian neighbors. Here is a goodly number of merchant gentlemen of wealth and station, comfortably, if not elegantly, housed on two sides of a street that climbs a low hill quite in the manner of a tea-box landscape. A few of these gentlemen lodge on the upper floors of their business houses, with Chinese wives, and quaint, old-fashioned children gaudily dressed, looking like little idols, chatting glibly with one another, and gracefully gesticulating with hands of exquisite slenderness. Confucius, in his infancy, may have been like one of the least of these. There are white draymen and porters in the employ of these shrewd and civil merchants, and the outward appearance of traffic, as conducted in the immediate vicinity, is rather American than otherwise. Farther up the hill, on Dupont Street, from California to Pacific Streets, the five blocks are almost monopolized by the Chinese. There is, at first, a sprinkling of small shops in the hands of Jews and Gentiles, and a mingling of Chinese bazaars of the half-caste type, where American and English goods are exposed in the show-windows; but as we pass on the Asiatic element increases, and finally every trace of alien produce is withdrawn from the shelves and counters. Here little China flaunts her scarlet streamers overhead, and flanks her doors with legends in saffron and gold; even its window-panes have a foreign look, and within is a glimmering of tinsel, a subdued light, and china lamps flickering before graven images of barbaric hideousness. The air is laden with the fumes of smoking sandalwood and strange odors of the East; and the streets, swarming with coolies, resound with the echoes of an unknown tongue. There is hardly room for us to pass; we pick our way, and are sometimes curiously regarded by slant-eyed pagans, who bear us no good-will, if that shadow of scorn in the face has been rightly interpreted. China is not more Chinese than this section of our Christian city, nor the heart of Tartary less American. Turn which way we choose, within two blocks, on either hand we find nothing but the infinitely small and astonishingly numerous forms of traffic on which the hordes around us thrive. No corner is too cramped for the squatting street cobbler; and as for the pipe-cleaners, the cigarette-rollers, the venders of sweetmeats and conserves, they gather on the curb or crouch under overhanging windows, and await custom with the philosophical resignation of the Oriental. On Dupont Street, between Clay and Sacramento Streets--a single block,--there are no less than five basement apartments devoted exclusively to barbers. There are hosts of this profession in the quarter. Look down the steep steps leading into the basement and see, at any hour of the day, with what deft fingers the tonsorial operators manipulate the devoted pagan head. There is no waste space in the quarter. In apartments not more than fifteen feet square three or four different professions are often represented, and these afford employment to ten or a dozen men. Here is a druggist and herb-seller, with huge spectacles on his nose, at the left of the main entrance; a butcher displays his meats in a show-window on the right, serving his customers over the sill; a clothier is in the rear of the shop, while a balcony filled with tailors or cigar-makers hangs half way to the ceiling. Close about us there are over one hundred and fifty mercantile establishments and numerous mechanical industries. The seventy-five cigar factories employ eight thousand coolies, and these are huddled into the closest quarters. In a single room, measuring twenty feet by thirty feet, sixty men and boys have been discovered industriously rolling real Havanas. The traffic which itinerant fish and vegetable venders drive in every part of the city must be great, being as it is an extreme convenience for lazy or thrifty housewives. A few of these basket men cultivate gardens in the suburbs, but the majority seek their supplies in the city markets. Wash-houses have been established in every part of the city, and are supplied with two sets of laborers, who spend watch and watch on duty, so that the establishment is never closed. One frequently meets a traveling bazaar--a coolie with his bundle of fans and bric-a-brac, wandering from house to house, even in the suburbs; and the old fellows, with a handful of sliced bamboos and chairs swinging from the poles over their shoulders, are becoming quite numerous; chair mending and reseating must be profitable. These little rivulets, growing larger and more varied day by day, all spring from that great fountain of Asiatic vitality--the Chinese Quarter. This surface-skimming beguiles for an hour or two; but the stranger who strolls through the streets of Chinatown, and retires dazed with the thousand eccentricities of an unfamiliar people, knows little of the mysterious life that surrounds him. Let us descend. We are piloted by a special policeman, one who is well acquainted with the geography of the quarter. Provided with tapers, we plunge into one of the several dark recesses at hand. Back of the highly respectable brick buildings in Sacramento Street--the dwellings and business places of the first-class Chinese merchants--there are pits and deadfalls innumerable, and over all is the blackness of darkness; for these human moles can work in the earth faster than the shade of the murdered Dane. Here, from the noisome vats three stories underground to the hanging gardens of the fish-dryers on the roofs, there is neither nook nor corner but is populous with Mongolians of the lowest caste. The better class have their reserved quarters; with them there is at least room to stretch one's legs without barking the shins of one's neighbor; but from this comparative comfort to the condensed discomfort of the impoverished coolie, how sudden and great the change! Between brick walls we thread our way, and begin descending into the abysmal darkness; the tapers, without which it were impossible to proceed with safety, burn feebly in the double night of the subterranean tenements. Most of the habitable quarters under the ground are like so many pigeon-houses indiscriminately heaped together. If there were only sunshine enough to drink up the slime that glosses every plank, and fresh air enough to sweeten the mildewed kennels, this highly eccentric style of architecture might charm for a time, by reason of its novelty; there is, moreover, a suspicion of the picturesque lurking about the place--but, heaven save us, how it smells! We pass from one black hole to another. In the first there is a kind of bin for ashes and coals, and there are pots and grills lying about--it is the kitchen. A heap of fire kindling-wood in one corner, a bench or stool as black as soot can paint it, a few bowls, a few bits of rags, a few fragments of food, and a coolie squatting over a struggling fire, a coolie who rises out of the dim smoke like the evil genii in the Arabian tale. There is no chimney, there is no window, there is no drainage. We are in a cubic sink, where we can scarcely stand erect. From the small door pours a dense volume of smoke, some of it stale smoke, which our entry has forced out of the corners; the kitchen will only hold so much smoke, and we have made havoc among the cubic inches. Underfoot, the thin planks sag into standing pools, and there is a glimmer of poisonous blue just along the base of the blackened walls; thousands feed daily in troughs like these! The next apartment, smaller yet, and blacker and bluer, and more slippery and slimy, is an uncovered cesspool, from which a sickening stench exhales continually. All about it are chambers--very small ones,--state-rooms let me call them, opening upon narrow galleries that run in various directions, sometimes bridging one another in a marvelous and exceedingly ingenious economy of space. The majority of these state-rooms are just long enough to lie down in, and just broad enough to allow a narrow door to swing inward between two single beds, with two sleepers in each bed. The doors are closed and bolted; there is often no window, and always no ventilation. Our "special," by the authority vested in him, tries one door and demands admittance. There is no response from within. A group of coolies, who live in the vicinity and have followed close upon our heels even since our descent into the underworld, assure us in soothing tones that the place is vacant. We are suspicious and persist in our investigation; still no response. The door is then forced by the "special," and behold four of the "seven sleepers" packed into this air-tight compartment, and insensible even to the hearty greeting we offer them! The air is absolutely overpowering. We hasten from the spot, but are arrested in our flight by the "special," who leads us to the gate of the catacombs, and bids us follow him. I know not to what extent the earth has been riddled under the Chinese Quarter; probably no man knows save he who has burrowed, like a gopher, from one living grave to another, fleeing from taxation or the detective. I know that we thread dark passages, so narrow that two of us may not cross tracks, so low that we often crouch at the doorways that intercept pursuit at unexpected intervals. Here the thief and the assassin seek sanctuary; it is a city of refuge for lost souls. The numerous gambling-houses are so cautiously guarded that only the private police can ferret them out. Door upon door is shut against you; or some ingenious panel is slid across your path, and you are unconsciously spirited away through other avenues. The secret signals that gave warning of your approach caused a sudden transformation in the ground-plan of the establishment. Gambling and opium-smoking are here the ruling passions. A coolie will pawn anything and everything to obtain the means with which to indulge these fascinations. There are many games played publicly at restaurants and in the retiring-rooms of mercantile establishments. Not only are cards, dice and dominoes common, but sticks, straws, brass rings, etc., are thrown in heaps upon the table, and the fate of the gamester hangs literally upon a breath. These haunts are seldom visited by the officers of justice, for it is almost impossible to storm the barriers in season to catch the criminals in the very act. Today you approach a gambling-hell by this door, tomorrow the inner passages of the house are mysteriously changed, and it is impossible to track them without being frequently misled; meanwhile the alarm is sounded throughout the building, and very speedily every trace of guilt has disappeared. The lottery is another popular temptation in the quarter. Most of the very numerous wash-houses are said to be private agencies for the sale of lottery tickets. Put your money, no matter how little it is, on certain of the characters that cover a small sheet of paper, and your fate is soon decided; for there is a drawing twice a day. Enter any one of the pawn-shops licensed by the city authorities, and cast your eye over the motley collection of unredeemed articles. There are pistols of every pattern and almost of every age, the majority of them loaded. There are daggers in infinite variety, including the ingenious fan stiletto, which, when sheathed, may be carried in the hand without arousing suspicion, for the sheath and handle bear an exact resemblance to a closed fan. There are entire suits of clothes, beds and bedding, tea, sugar, clocks--multitudes of them, a clock being one of the Chinese hobbies, and no room is completely furnished without at least a pair of them,--ornaments in profusion; everything, in fact, save only the precious queue, without which no Chinaman may hope for honor in this life or salvation in the next. The throngs of customers that keep the pawnshops crowded with pledges are probably most of them victims of the gambling-table or the opium-den. They come from every house that employs them; your domestic is impatient of delay, and hastens through his daily task in order that he may nightly indulge his darling sin. The opium habit prevails to an alarming extent throughout the country, but no race is so dependent on this seductive and fatal stimulant as the Chinese. There are several hundred dens in San Francisco where, for a very moderate sum, the coolie may repair, and revel in dreams that end in a death-like sleep. Let us pause at the entrance of one of these pleasure-houses. Through devious ways we follow the leader, and come at last to a cavernous retreat. The odors that salute us are offensive; on every hand there is an accumulation of filth that should naturally, if it does not, breed fever and death. Forms press about us in the darkness,--forms that hasten like shadows toward that den of shades. We enter by a small door that is open for a moment only, and find ourselves in an apartment about fifteen feet square. We can touch the ceiling on tiptoe, yet there are three tiers of bunks placed with headboards to the wall, and each bunk just broad enough for two occupants. It is like the steerage in an emigrant vessel, eminently shipshape. Every bunk is filled; some of the smokers have had their dream and lie in grotesque attitudes, insensible, ashen-pale, having the look of plague-stricken corpses. Some are dreaming; you see it in the vacant eye, the listless face, the expression that betrays hopeless intoxication. Some are preparing the enchanting pipe,--a laborious process, that reminds one of an incantation. See those two votaries lying face to face, chatting in low voices, each loading his pipe with a look of delicious expectation in every feature. They recline at full length; their heads rest upon blocks of wood or some improvised pillow; a small oil-lamp flickers between them. Their pipes resemble flutes, with an inverted ink-bottle on the side near the lower end. They are most of them of bamboo, and very often are beautifully colored with the mellowest and richest tints of a wisely smoked meerschaum. A small jar of prepared opium--a thick black paste resembling tar--stands near the lamp. The smoker leisurely dips a wire into the paste; a few drops adhere to it, and he twirls the wire in the flame of the lamp, where they fry and bubble; he then draws them upon the rim of the clay pipe-bowl, and at once inhales three or four mouthfuls of whitish smoke. This empties the pipe, and the slow process of feeding the bowl is lazily repeated. It is a labor of love; the eyes gloat upon the bubbling drug which shall anon witch the soul of those emaciated toilers. They renew the pipe again and again; their talk grows less frequent and dwindles to a whispered soliloquy. We address them, and are smiled at by delirious eyes; but the ravenous lips are sealed to that magic tube, from which they draw the breath of a life we know not of. Their fingers relax; their heads sink upon the pillows; they no longer respond, even by a glance, when we now appeal to them. Here is the famous Malay, the fearful enemy of De Quincey, who nightly drugged his master into Asiatic seas, and now himself is basking in the tropical heats and vertical sunlight of Hindustan. Egypt and her gods are his; for him the secret chambers of Cheops are unlocked; he also is transfixed at the summit of pagodas; he is the idol, the priest, the worshiped, the sacrificed. The wrath of Brahma pursues him through the forests of Asia; he is the hated of Vishnu; Siva lies in wait for him; Isis and Osiris confront him. What is this key which seems for a time to unlock the gates of heaven and of hell? It is the most complicated drug in the pharmacopoeia. Though apparently nothing more than a simple black, slimy paste, analysis reveals the fact that it contains no less than five-and-twenty elements, each one of them a compound by itself, and many of them among the most complex compounds known to modern chemistry. This "dread agent of unimaginable pleasure and pain," this author of an "Iliad of woes," lies within reach of every creature in the commonwealth. As the most enlightened and communicative of the opium-eaters has observed: "Happiness may be bought for a penny, and carried in the waistcoat pocket; portable ecstasy may be had corked up in a pint bottle; peace of mind may be set down in gallons by the mail-coach." This is the chief, the inevitable dissipation of our coolie tribes; this is one of the evils with which we have to battle, and in comparison with which the excessive indulgence in intoxicating liquors is no more than what a bad dream is to hopeless insanity. See the hundred forms on opium pillows already under the Circean spell; swarms are without the chambers awaiting their turn to enter and enjoy the fictitious delights of this paradise. While the opium habit is one that should be treated at once with wisdom and severity, there is another point which seriously involves the Chinese question, and, unhappily, it must be handled with gloves. Nineteen-twentieths of the Chinese women in San Francisco are depraved! Not far from one of the pleasure-houses we intruded upon a domestic hearth smelling of punk and pestilence. A child fled with a shrill scream at our approach. This was the hospital of the quarter. Nine cases of smallpox were once found within its narrow walls, and with no one to care for them. As we explored its cramped wards our path was obstructed by a body stretched upon a bench. The face was of that peculiar smoke color which we are obliged to accept as Chinese pallor; the trunk was swathed like a mummy in folds of filthy rags; it was motionless as stone, apparently insensible. Thus did an opium victim await his dissolution. In the next room a rough deal burial-case stood upon two stools; tapers were flickering upon the floor; the fumes of burning punk freighted the air and clouded the vision; the place was clean enough, for it was perfectly bare, but it was eminently uninteresting. Close at hand stood a second burial-case, an empty one, with the cover standing against the wall; a few hours more and it would find a tenant--he who was dying in rags and filth in the room adjoining. This was the native hospital of the quarter, and the mother of the child was the matron of the establishment. I will cast but one more shadow on the coolie quarter, and then we will search for sunshine. It is folly to attempt to ignore the fact that the seeds of leprosy are sown among the Chinese. If you would have Proof, follow me. It is a dreary drive over the hills to the pest-house. Imagine that we have dropped in upon the health officer at his city office. Our proposed visitation has been telephoned to the resident physician, who is a kind of prisoner with his leprous patients on the lonesome slope of a suburban hill. As we get into the rugged edge of the city, among half-graded streets, strips of marshland, and a semi-rustic population, we ask our way to the pest-house. Yonder it lies, surrounded by that high white fence on the hill-top, above a marsh once clouded with clamorous water-fowl, but now all, all under the spell of the quarantine, and desolate beyond description. Our road winds up the hill-slope, sown thick with stones, and stops short at the great solid gate in the high rabbit fence that walls in the devil's acre, if I may so call it. We ring the dreadful bell--the passing-bell, that is seldom rung save to announce the arrival of another fateful body clothed in living death. The doctor welcomes us to an enclosure that is utterly whitewashed; the detached houses within it are kept sweet and clean. Everything connected with the lazaret is of the cheapest description; there is a primitive simplicity, a modest nakedness, an insulated air about the place that reminds one of a chill December in a desert island. Cheap as it is and unhandsome, the hospital is sufficient to meet all the requirements of the plague in its present stage of development. The doctor has weeded out the enclosure, planted it, hedged it about with the fever-dispelling eucalyptus, and has already a little plot of flowers by the office window,--but this is not what we have come to see. One ward in the pest-house is set apart for the exclusive use of the Chinese lepers, who have but recently been isolated. We are introduced to the poor creatures one after another, and then we take them all in at a glance, or group them according to their various stages of decomposition, or the peculiar character of their physical hideousness. They are not all alike; with some the flesh has begun to wither and to slough off, yet they are comparatively cheerful; as fatalists, it makes very little difference to them how soon or in what fashion they are translated to the other life. There is one youth who doubtless suffers some inconveniences from the clumsy development of his case. This lad, about eighteen years of age, has a face that is swollen like a sponge saturated with corruption; he cannot raise his bloated eyelids, but, with his head thrown back, looks downward over his cheeks. Two of these lepers are as astonishing specimens as any that have ever come under my observation, yet I have morbidly sought them from Palestine to Molokai. In these cases the muscles are knotted, the blood curdled; masses of unwholesome flesh cover them, lying fold upon fold; the lobes of their ears hang almost to the shoulder; the eyes when visible have an inhuman glance that transfixes you with horror. Their hands are shapeless stumps that have lost all natural form or expression. Of old there was a law for the leprosy of a garment and of a house; yet, in spite of the stringency of that Mosaic law, the isolation, the purging with hyssop, and the cleansing by fire, St. Luke records: "There met Him ten men who were lepers, who stood afar off; and they lifted up their voices and cried, Jesus, Master, have mercy on us!" And today, more than eighteen hundred years later, lepers gather on the slopes of Mount Zion, and hover at the gates of Jerusalem, and crouch in the shadow of the tomb of David, crying for the bread of mercy. Leprosy once thoroughly engrafted on our nation, and nor cedar-wood, nor scarlet, nor hyssop, nor clean birds, nor ewes of the first year, nor measures of fine flour, nor offerings of any sort, shall cleanse us for evermore. Let us turn to pleasanter prospects--the Joss House, for instance, one of the several temples whither the Chinese frequently repair to propitiate the reposeful gods. It is an unpretentious building, with nothing external to distinguish its facade from those adjoining, save only a Chinese legend above the door. There are many crooks and turns within it; shrines in a perpetual state of fumigation adorn its nooks and corners; overhead swing shelves of images rehearsing historical tableaux; there is much carving and gilding, and red and green paint. It is the scene of a perennial feast of lanterns, and the worshipful enter silently with burnt-offerings and meat-offerings and drink-offerings, which they spread before the altar under the feet of some colossal god; then, with repeated genuflections, they retire. The thundering gong or the screaming pipes startle us at intervals, and white-robed priests pass in and out, droning their litanies. At this point the artist suggests refreshments; arm in arm we pass down the street, surfeited with sight-seeing, weary of the multitudinous bazaars, the swarming coolies, the boom of beehive industry. Swamped in a surging crowd, we are cast upon the catafalque of the celestial dead. The coffin lies under a canopy, surrounded by flambeaux, grave offerings, guards and musicians. Chinatown has become sufficiently acclimatized to begin to put forth its natural buds again as freely as if this were indeed the Flowery Land. The funeral pageant moves,--a dozen carriages preceded by mourners on foot, clad in white, their heads covered, their feet bare, their grief insupportable, so that an attendant is at hand to sustain each mourner howling at the wheels of the hearse. An orchestra heads the procession; the air is flooded with paper prayers that are cast hither at you to appease the troubled spirit. They are on their way to the cemetery among the hills toward the sea, where the funeral rites are observed as rigorously as they are on Asian soil. We are still unrefreshed and sorely in need of rest. Overhead swing huge balloon lanterns and tufts of gold-flecked scarlet streamers,--a sight that maketh the palate of the hungry Asiatic to water, for within this house may be had all the delicacies of the season, ranging from the confections of the fond suckling to funeral bakemeats. Legends wrought in tinsel decorate the walls. Here is a shrine with a vermilion-faced god and a native lamp, and stalks of such hopelessly artificial flowers as fortunately are unknown in nature. Saffron silks flutter their fringes in the steams of nameless cookery--for all this is but the kitchen, and the beginning of the end we aim at. A spiral staircase winds like a corkscrew from floor to floor; we ascend by easy stages, through various grades of hunger, from the economic appetite on the first floor, where the plebeian stomach is stayed with tea and lentils, even to the very housetop, where are administered comforting syrups and a menu that is sweetened throughout its length with the twang of lutes, the clash of cymbals, and the throb of the shark-skin drum. Servants slip to and fro in sandals, offering edible birds'-nests, sharks'-fins, and beche de mer,--or are these unfamiliar dishes snatched from some other kingdom? At any rate, they are native to the strange people who have a little world of their own in our midst, and who could, if they chose, declare their independence tomorrow. We see everywhere the component parts of a civilization separate and distinct from our own. They have their exists and their entrances; their religious life and burial; their imports, exports, diversions, tribunals, punishments. They are all under the surveillance of the six companies, the great six-headed supreme authority. They have laws within our laws that to us are sealed volumes. ***** After supper we leaned from the high balcony, among flowers and lanterns, and looked down upon the street below; it was midnight, yet the pavements were not deserted, and there arose to our ears a murmur as of a myriad humming bees shut in clustering hives; close about us were housed near twenty thousand souls; shops were open; discordant orchestras resounded from the theaters; in a dark passage we saw the flames playing upon the thresholds of infamy to expel the evil shades. Away off in the Bay in the moonlight glimmered the ribbed sail of a fishing-junk, and the air was heavy with an indefinable odor which to this hour puzzles me; but it must be attributed either to sink or sandalwood--perchance to both! "It is a little bit of old China, this quarter of ours," said the artist, rising to go. And so it is, saving only a noticeable lack of dwarfed trees and pale pagodas and sprays of willowy bamboo; of clumsy boats adrift on tideless streams; of toy-like tea-gardens hanging among artificial rocks, and of troops of flat-faced but complaisant people posing grotesquely in ridiculous perspective. 
17616	----	generously made available by the Kentuckiana Digital Library (http://kdl.kyvl.org/) Note: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this file which includes the original illustration. See 17616-h.htm or 17616-h.zip: (http://www.gutenberg.net/dirs/1/7/6/1/17616/17616-h/17616-h.htm) or (http://www.gutenberg.net/dirs/1/7/6/1/17616/17616-h.zip) Images of the original pages are available through the Electonic Text Collection of Kentuckiana Digital Library. See http://kdl.kyvl.org/cgi/t/text/text-idx?c=kyetexts;cc=kyetexts;xc=1&idno=B92-186-30607738&view=toc LITTLE SKY-HIGH Or The Surprising Doings of Washee-Washee-Wang by HEZEKIAH BUTTERWORTH Author of "In the Days of Jefferson," "The Bordentown Story-Tellers," "Little Arthur's History of Rome," "The Schoolhouse on the Columbia" [Illustration] * * * * * The "Nine to Twelve" Series =========================== LITTLE DICK'S SON. Kate Gannett Wells. MARCIA AND THE MAJOR. J. L. Harbour. THE CHILDREN OF THE VALLEY. Harriet Prescott Spofford. HOW DEXTER PAID HIS WAY. Kate Upson Clark. THE FLATIRON AND THE RED CLOAK. Abby Morton Diaz. IN THE POVERTY YEAR. Marian Douglas. LITTLE SKY-HIGH. Hezekiah Butterworth. THE LITTLE CAVE-DWELLERS. Ella Farman Pratt. =========================== Thomas D. Crowell & Co. New York. * * * * * [Illustration: "IT OPENED A GREAT MOUTH, AND SMOKE SEEMED TO ISSUE FROM IT." Page 41.] New York: Thomas Y. Crowell & Co. Publishers Copyright, 1901 By T. Y. Crowell & Co. Typography by C. J. Peters & Son. Boston, U. S. A. NOTE. The story of Sky-High is partly founded on a true incident of a young Chinese nobleman's education, and is written to illustrate the happy relations that might exist between the children of different countries, if each child treated all other good children like "wangs." 28 Worcester Street, Boston. _March 22, 1901_. CONTENTS. PAGE I. Below Stairs 7 II. Before the Mandarin 13 III. Lucy's Cup of Tea 20 IV. How Sky-High Called the Governor 26 V. Sky-High's Wonder-Tale 31 VI. The Mandarin Plate 35 VII. Sky-High's Kite 39 VIII. A Wan 44 IX. Lucy's Jataka Story 48 X. Sky-High's Easter Sunday 51 XI. Sky-High's Fireworks 55 XII. A Chinese Santa Claus 62 XIII. A Legend of Tea 68 XIV. Mrs. Van Buren's Christmas Tale 70 XV. In the House-Boy's Care 76 XVI. In the Little Wang's Land 82 LITTLE SKY-HIGH. I. BELOW STAIRS. The children came home from school--Charles and Lucy. "I have a surprise for you in the kitchen," said their mother, Mrs. Van Buren. "No, take off your things first, then you may go down and see. Now don't laugh--a laugh that hurts anyone's feelings is so unkind--tip-toe too! No, Charlie, one at a time; let Lucy go first." Lucy tip-toed with eyes full of wonder to the dark banister-stairs that led down to the quarters below. Her light feet were as still as a little mouse's in a cheese closet. Presently she came back with dancing eyes. "Oh, mother! where did you get him? His eyes are like two almonds, and his braided hair dangles away down almost to the floor, and there are black silk tassels on the end of it, and kitty is playing with them; and when Norah caught my eye she bent over double to laugh, but he kept right on shelling peas. Charlie, come and see; let me go with Charlie, mother?" Charlie followed Lucy, tip-toeing to the foot of the banister, where a platform-stair commanded a view of the kitchen. It was a very nice kitchen, with gas, hot water and cold, ranges and gas-stoves, and two great cupboards with glass doors through which all sorts of beautiful serving-dishes shone. Green ivies filled the window-cases, and geraniums lined the window-sills. A fine old parrot from the Andes inhabited a large cage with an open door, hanging over the main window, where the wire netting let in the air from the apple boughs. On reaching the platform-stair, Charlie was as astonished as Lucy could wish. There sat a little Chinese boy, as it seemed, although at second glance he looked rather old for a boy. He wore blue clothes and was shelling peas. His glossy black "pigtail" reached down to the floor, and the kitten was trying to raise the end of it in her pretty white paws. As Lucy had said, heavy black silk cords were braided in with the hair, with handsome tassels. The parrot had come out of her cage, and was eying the boy and the kitten, plainly hoping for mischief. Suddenly she caught Charlie's eye, and with a flap of her wings she cried out to him. "He's a quare one! Now, isn't he?" The bird had heard Irish Nora say this a number of times during the day and had learned the words. Charlie could not help laughing out in response. With this encouragement Polly came down towards the door of the cage, and thrust her green and yellow head out into the room. "Now, isn't he, sure?" cried she, in Nora's own voice. Nora was sole ruler of this cheerful realm below stairs; the only other inhabitants of the kitchen were the parrot and the kitten, and now this Chinese boy. Nora's special work-room was a great pantry with a latticed window. Near-by a wide door led out into a little garden of apple, pear, and cherry trees; the garden had a grape-arbor too, which ran from the door to a roomy cabin. Here was every convenience for washing and ironing. Nora was a portly woman, with a round face, large forehead, and a little nose which seemed to be always laughing. She was a merry soul; and she used to tell "the children," as Charles and Lucy were called, "Liliputian stories," tales of the Fairy Schoolmaster of Irish lore. The Chinese boy did not look up to Polly as she gazed and exclaimed at him, but shelled his peas. Presently, however, the pretty kitten whirled the industrious boy's pigtail around in a circle until it pulled. Then he cast his almond eyes at her, and addressed her in a tone like the clatter of rolling rocks. "Ok-oka-ok-a-a!" The kitten flew to the other side of the room, and Nora appeared from the pantry. When she saw the two children on the stairs, she put her hands on her sides and laughed with her nose. "We've a quare one here, now, haven't we?" said she. Polly stretched her lovely head out into the room from the cage, and flapped her wings, and swung to and fro, and the kitten returned, whereupon the boy drew up his pigtail and tied it around his neck like a necktie. "See, children," said Nora, pointing, "what your mother has brought home! She says we must all be good to him, and it's never hard I would be to any living crater. He came down from the sun, he says. What do you think his name is? And you could never guess! It's Sky-High, which is to say, come-down-from-the-sun. And a man in a coach it was that brought him. Sure, I never came here in a coach, but on my two square feet; he came from the consul's office--Misther Bradley's--and a ship it was that brought him there. Ah, but he's a quare kitchen-boy! "But your mother, all with a heart as warm as pudding, she's going to educate him; and if he does well, she's going to promote him up aloft, to take care of all the foine rooms, and furniture and things, and to wait upon the table, and tend the door for aught I know. She made me promise I would be remarkable good to him--but it don't do no harm for me to say that he's a quare one! _he_ can't understand it--_he_ speaks the language of the sun, all like the cracking of nuts, or the rattling of a loose thunder-storm over the shingles." "Sky-High?" ventured little Lucy mischievously. The Chinese boy looked up, with a quick blink of his eyes. "At your service, madam," said he in very good English. Nora lifted her great arms. "And he does speak English! Who knows but he understood all I said, and what the parrot said too. Poll, you go into your cage! 'At your service, madam!' And did you hear it, Lucy? No errand-boy ever spoke in the loikes o' that before! I'd think h'd been brought up among the quality. It maybe he's a Fairy Shoemaker, spaking the queen's court-language, and no errand-boy at all!" A bell sounded up-stairs, and the two children ran back. "Oh, mother, never was there a boy like that!" said Charlie. "Well," said Mrs. Van Buren, "you shall tell your father how you found little Sky-High--it will be a pretty after-supper story. I want you to think kindly of him, for if he does well he is to stay with us a year." The children found their father in the dining-room; and as they kissed him they both cried, "Oh, oh!" "What is it now?" asked Mr. Van Buren. "What has happened to-day?" "Wait until after supper," said Mrs. Van Buren; "then they shall tell you of a curious event in the kitchen. There really is something to tell," she added, smiling. II. BEFORE THE MANDARIN! As Mr. Van Buren was a prudent, wise, and good-natured man, he left all the affairs of housekeeping to his wife. He had so seldom been "below stairs" that he never had even made the acquaintance of Polly, the lively bird of the kitchen. The kitten sometimes came up to visit him; on which occasions she simply purred, and sank down to rest on his knee. After supper was over, Mr. Van Buren caught Lucy up. "And now what amusing thing is it that my little girl has to tell me--something new that Nora has told you of the Fairy Shoemaker?" "There's really a wonderful thing down in the kitchen, father," said Lucy; "wonderfuller than anything in the Fairy Shoemaker tales." "And where did it come from?" "Down from the sun, father, and Nora says it came in a coach!" Mr. Van Buren turned to his wife. "It came from the Consul's," she said--"from Consul Bradley's." "Has Consul Bradley been here?" he asked, thinking some Chinese curio had been shipped over. Consul Bradley was a Chinese consular agent, a man of considerable wealth, with a large knowledge of the world, and a friend of the Van Buren family. "No," said Mrs. Van Buren, "but his coach-man has brought me a kitchen-boy." "Well, that _is_ rather wonderful! Is that what you have down-stairs, Lucy?" "That doesn't half tell it, father," cried Charlie. "He's a little Chineseman!" "I was in the Consul's office this morning," went on Mrs. Van Buren, smiling at her husband's astonishment; "and the Consul said to me, 'Wouldn't you like to have a neat, trim, tidy, honest, faithful, tender-hearted, polite boy to learn general work?' I said to the Consul, 'Yes, that is the person that I have been needing for years.' He said, 'Would you have any prejudice against a little Chinese servant, if he were trusty, after the general principles I have described?' I said to him, 'None whatever.' He continued: 'A Chinese lad from Manchuria has been sent to me by a friend in the hong, and I am asked to find him a place to learn American home-making ideas in one of the best families. Your family is that place--shall I send him?' So he came in the Consul's coach, as Lucy said, and with him an immense trunk covered with Chinese brush-marks. He seems to be a little gentleman; and when I asked him his name he said, 'The Consul told me to tell you to call me Sky-High.' He doesn't speak except to make replies, but these are in very good English." "May I give my opinion?" asked little Lucy. "Well, Lucy," said her mother, smiling, "what is your opinion?" "He looks like an emperor's son, or a mandarin," said Lucy. "And what put such a thought into your head?" asked her mother. "The pictures on my Chinese fans," said Lucy promptly. "Well," said Mrs. Van Buren, "if he does well, you shall treat him exactly as though he were the son of an emperor or a wang--he says that kings are called wangs in his land." "Then he would be a little wang," said Lucy. "I will make believe he is a little wang while he stays." So Sky-High became a little wang to Lucy; and a wonderful little wang he promised to be. At Mr. Van Buren's wish, little Sky-High was sent for. The Chinese boy asked Charlie, who went down for him, that he might have time to change his dress so that he might suitably appear before "the mandarin in the parlor." (A "mandarin" in China is a kind of mayor or magistrate of rank more or less exalted.) Charlie came back with the kitchen-boy's message. "He says that he wants a little time to change his clothes so that he may suitably appear before the mandarin in the parlor." "The mandarin in the parlor!" exclaimed Mr. Van Buren, in a burst of laughter. "My father used to speak of mandarins--he traded ginseng for silks and teas at Canton in the days of the hongs--the open market or trading-places. That was a generation ago. There are no longer any store-houses for ginseng on the wharves of Boston. Yet my father made all his money in this way. 'The mandarin in the parlor.' Sky-High has a proper respect for superiors; I like the boy for that." By and by the sound of soft feet were heard at the folding-doors. "Come in, Sky-High," said Mrs. Van Buren. The little kitchen-boy appeared, and all eyes lighted up in wonder. He wore a silk tunic fringed with what looked like gold. His stockings were white, and his shoes were spangled with silver. The broad sleeves of his tunic were richly embroidered--he seemed to wing himself in. A beautiful fan was in his hand, which he very slowly waved to and fro, as if following some custom. Mrs. Van Buren wondered if servants in China came fanning themselves when summoned by their master. Sky-High bowed and bowed and bowed again, then moved with a gliding motion in front of Mr. Van Buren's chair, still bowing and bowing, and there he remained in an attentive bent attitude. The kitten leaped up from Mr. Van Buren's knee, then jumped down, plainly with an intention to play with the tempting pigtail--but Lucy sprang and captured the snowy little creature. "So you are Sky-High?" said Mr. Van Buren. "Well, a right neat and smart-looking boy you are!" "The Mandarin of Milton!" said the glittering little fellow, bending. "My ancestors have heard of the mandarins of Boston and Milton, even in the days of Hoqua." "Hoqua?" Mr. Van Buren looked at the boy with interest, "You know of Hoqua?" "Who is Hoqua?" asked Mrs. Van Buren. Mr. Van Buren turned to her, "I will tell you later." "Hoqua, madam," said Sky-High, bowing to his mistress, "was the great merchant mandarin of Canton in the time of the opening of that port to all countries." How did a Chinese servant know anything of Hoqua? This was the question that puzzled Mr. Van Buren. "Sky-High, how many people have you in your country?" he asked. "It is said four hundred million." "We have only seventy millions here, Sky-High." "I have been told," said Sky-High. "And who is ruler over all your people?" asked Mr. Van Buren. "The Celestial Emperor, the Son of Heaven, the Brother of the Sun and Moon, the Dweller in Rooms of Gold, the Light of Life, the Father of the Nations." "You fill me with wonder, Sky-High. We have a plain President. Do your people die to make room for more millions?" "My people value not to die, O Mandarin!" said the boy. "Such throngs of people--they all have souls, think you?" A dark flush came upon little Sky-High's forehead. He opened his narrow black eyes upon his master. "Souls? They have souls, O Mandarin! Souls are all my people have for long." "Where go their souls when your people die?" "To their ancestors! With them they live among the lotus blooms." "We will excuse you now," said Mr. Van Buren to Sky-High. "You have answered intelligently, according to your knowledge." The kitchen-boy bowed himself out without turning his back towards any one, describing many glittering angles, and waving his fan. He looked like something vanishing, a bit of fireworks going out. As he reached the stair, the little white cat sprang from Lucy's arms, and skipped swiftly after the curious inmate of the kitchen. The long, swinging braid was a temptation. The last glimpse Charles and Lucy had was of an embroidered sleeve as Sky-High reached backward and caught the kitten to his shoulder, and bound her fast with his queue. Charlie clapped his hands. He thought there would be fun in the house. He knew he should like Sky-High. As they went up-stairs he said to Lucy, "The little Chinaman was a heathen, and father was a missionary." Mr. Van Buren heard him, and called him back. "The little Chinaman was a new book," said he, "and your father was reading. See that you treat the boy well." III. LUCY'S CUP OF TEA. Mr. Van Buren's home was on Milton Hill. It overlooked Boston and the harbor. The upper windows commanded a glorious view in the morning. Before it glittered the sea with its white sails, and behind it rose the Blue Hills with their green orchards and woods. The house was colonial, with gables and cupola, and was surrounded by hour-glass elms, arbors, and evergreen trees. It had been built by Mr. Van Buren's father in the days of the China trade and of the primitive mandarin merchant, Hoqua. Mr. Van Buren, a tea-merchant of Boston, received his goods through merchant vessels, and not through his own ships as his father had done. The next morning Mrs. Van Buren went down early into her kitchen to assign Sky-High his work. Nora, in a loud whisper that the birds in the apple-boughs might have heard, informed Mrs. Van Buren that the new Chinese servant was "no good as a sweeper," and asked what he did with his pigtail when he slept. "It must take him a good part of to-morrer to comb his hair, it is that long," she said. "And wouldn't you better use him up-stairs for an errand-boy altogether now? Sure, you wouldn't be after teaching him any cooking at all?" Nora was an old servant and had many privileges of speech. Mrs. Van Buren smiled, and arranged that little Sky-High should wash and iron clothes in the cabin under the blooming trees, at the end of the arbor. "And if you learn well," said she, "I may let you tend the door, and wait upon the table, and keep the rooms in order." "And then you will be up-stairs," said little Lucy, "where it is very pleasant." "And now, Sky-High, tell me how it is that you can speak English so well," said Mrs. Van Buren, as they stood in the cabin, where the prospect of solitude seemed to please the boy. A gleam of something like mischief appeared on little Sky-High's face. "And, Madame de Mandarin," said he, "I speak French too. _Parlez-vous Français_, Mademoiselle Lucy?" he added rapidly, turning to the little American girl. "_Pardonne_, Madame la Mandarin!" "Sky-High will not say 'Mandarin' any more," said Mrs. Van Buren. "There are no mandarins in this country, and when Sky-High is called into the rooms above he will wear his plain clothes, not spangled clothes. Now, who taught you English?" "My master, madam." "Say mistress, Sky-High." "My master, mistress." "Where did you live in Manchuria?" "In the house of a mandarin." "And who was your master?" "The mandarin, mistress." "Do mandarins in China teach their servants to speak English?" "Some mandarins do, your grace." "Do not say 'your grace,' Sky-High, but simply mistress. Ladies have no titles in America. Where is the city in which you lived?" "In Manchuria, on the coast, on the Crystal Sea." The kitten came running into the kitchen, and at once leaped on to the end of Sky-High's pigtail. The boy gave his pigtail a sudden whisk. "Pie-cat?" asked he. "No, no!" said Mrs. Van Buren in horror. "We have no pie-cats in this country. Was there an English teacher in your house?" Little Sky-High was winding his pigtail about his neck for safety. He saw Lucy giggling, and a laugh came into his own eyes. "_Pardonne_, mistress. We had an English trader at the hong--at the trade-house." "Do they send servants to English teachers in China?" "When they are to grow up and deal with English business, mistress." "Did you meet English people at the hong?" "Yes, mistress." "Who were they?" "I cannot name them. There were my lords and the admiral; and the American Consul he came, and the German Consul he came, and the American travelers they came, and Russian officers they came." "How old are you, Sky-High?" "There have passed over me fifteen New-Year days, mistress." "Well, Sky-High," said his mistress, "I am going to give you this cabin under the trees, where you may do your washings and all your ironings. No one else shall come here to work. I have decided to have you begin to-morrow to bring up the breakfast." The next morning Sky-High performed his first service at the breakfast-table. He brought up the coffee while Mr. Van Buren was saying grace. He paused before the table. "Sleepy, sleepy!" he exclaimed softly, "all sleepy!" Mrs. Van Buren put out her hand as a signal for him to wait. Sky-High did not understand, and the grace was concluded amid smiles. Sky-High wondered much what had made the family sleepy at that time of the day. They did not go to sleep at the breakfast-table in China. "The mistress and her people," said he to Nora, "shut their eyes and go to sleep at the breakfast." "An' sure, it is quare you are yourself! They were praying. Don't you ever say prayers, Sky-High?" "My country has printed prayers," said Sky-High with lofty dignity. "You're a hathen people. Here we call such as you a 'hathen Chinee,' and there was a Californan poet that wrote a whole piece about the likes of you. Children speak it at school. Here is the toast--carry it up!" Lucy liked to see the little olive-colored "wang" moving about. One day at the table she requested him to bring her a cup of tea. The little Chinaman well knew that Lucy and Charles were not permitted to have tea. He inquired whether he should make it in the American or the Chinese way. "In the way you would for a wang," said Lucy. Sky-High soon re-appeared, his tray bearing a pretty little covered cup and a silver pitcher. "Where is the tea?" asked Lucy. "It is in the cup, like a wang's," said Sky-High. He poured the hot water on the tea, and fragrance filled the room. Lucy, with a glance asking her mother's leave, tasted the tea she had roguishly ordered. "We do not have tea like this," she said; "is it tea?" "Like a wang's," said Sky-High, blinking. "Where did you get it?" asked Lucy. "Out of my tea-canister," said Sky-High. Little Lucy did not drink the tea, for little Lucy had never drunk a cup of tea; but its fragrance lingered about the house through the day, and set her wondering what else the little Chinaman's immense trunk might hold. It had been agreed between the Consul and Mrs. Van Buren that little Sky-High might talk with the family; and like her husband she found the Chinese boy "a new book." She asked him many a curious question about the "Flowery Kingdom," and one day she learned that "we never send our finest teas out of China." Yes "we" said the washee-washee-wang, as the neighbor-boys called him. IV. HOW SKY-HIGH CALLED THE GOVERNOR. Cheerfully, in his fine blue linens, the little Chinese house-boy worked in his cabin a portion of every day. The bluebirds came close to sing to him and so did the red-breasted robins. Irish Nora and the parrot became very civil, and he grew fond of Charlie and Lucy. Some of the boys on their way to and from school made his only real annoyance. Sometimes when his smoothing-iron was moving silently under his loose-sleeved hand, or he was hanging the snowy clothes on the lines, they would hide behind a tree or corner, and shy sticks at him calling, "washee-washee-wang!" He bore it all in an unselfish temper, until one day a big lump of dirt fell upon one of little Lucy's dainty muslin frocks as he was ironing it. Then he said something that sounded like, "cockle-cockle-cockle," and closed all the doors and windows. At this crisis Charles and Lucy came to his side. They set wide again the doors and windows of the cabin under the green boughs, and promised him that they would forever be his true friends and protectors. "It is time we began to treat him like a wang, as mother wished," said Lucy to Charlie. "The American boys throw dirt at me in the street," admitted little Sky-High, in a reluctant tone--he did not like to bear witness against anyone in this sunshiny world. "I will go out with you," said Charlie, "when you are sent out to do errands. I will stand between you and the dirt. The dirt comes out of their souls." "And I will watch around the corners and speak to them," said Lucy. Sky-High's heart bounded at these pledges of friendship, and he leaped about in a way that made the parrot laugh--sometimes he had the parrot in his cabin, and taught it Chinese words. "The sun shines for all, the earth blossoms for all," he said to the children; "it is only the heart that needs washee-washee and smoothee-smoothee. Everything will be better by and by. I talk flowery talk, like home, out here among the birds, butterflies, and bees." (Nora said he "jabbered" all day long in the cabin.) Mrs. Van Buren very soon promoted the careful little Chinaman to have all the care of the beautiful living rooms and the quaint old parlors. He brought the flowers and admitted the visitors. He did his work in admirable taste. It shed a kind of good influence through the house, to see the little fellow in his fine linens flitting around, so careful was he to keep all things in speckless order. The chief drawback was that he still used "flowery talk"; to him the world was a field of poetry, and he spoke in figures whenever he forgot himself. Mrs. Van Buren was still Madam the Mandarin, and he called Lucy the "Lotus of the Shining Sea." He received many reprimands for the use of these Oriental forms of speech; but found it hard to harness his thoughts to track-horses, especially after the June days began to fill the gardens with orioles and humming-birds and roses. "Why not _let_ me talk after nature?" little Sky-High used to beg. One day the governor of the State came to visit the Van Burens. Sky-High spoke of him as the "Mandarin of the Golden Dome." He had several times been in Boston to see Consul Bradley, and knew the State House. In the evening Mrs. Van Buren gave him his morning orders. "You will call the governor to-morrow at seven o'clock. You will knock on his door, and you must use plain language! You must not say, 'O Mandarin of the Golden Dome!' We do not use flowery terms of address in this country. Mind, Sky-High, use plain language." The little Chinaman feared that he would be "flowery" in spite of all his care. So he consulted with Irish Nora in the blooming hours of the morning. "What shall I say when I knock on the governor's chamber-door?" asked he earnestly. "What shall I say in the plain American language?" "What shall you say? Say, 'Get up!'" "Is that all?" asked he doubtfully. "Well, if you want to say more, say, 'Get up! The world is all growing and crowing--the roosters are crowing their heads off!'" Sky-High went to the door of the governor's room and knocked. There came a voice from within. "Well?" "Get up! The world is all growing and crowing,--the roosters are crowing their heads off." The "Mandarin of the Golden Dome" did not wait for a second summons, but got up even as Sky-High had bidden him. It was a June morning, and he found the world as he had been warned, "all growing and crowing." "Have you called the governor?" asked Mrs. Van Buren, as she met Sky-High on the stairs. "Yes, my Lady of the Beautiful Morning." "Did you use plain language?" "Sky-High used the American language." "What did you say?" "I said, 'Get up!'" "Oh, Sky-High, now I will have to apologize for you!" "We never use plain language to mandarins in China," said Sky-High. "If we did, 'whish, whish,' and our heads would be off before we could turn!" The Mandarin of the Golden Dome came down from the chamber; and the Lady of the Beautiful Morning explained to him that her new boy had not yet mastered the arts of American manners, although he intended to be correct when addressing his superiors. "I didn't notice anything whatever incorrect," said the governor, who had hugely enjoyed the manner of his summons. "He awoke me--what more was needed?" V. SKY-HIGH'S WONDER-TALE. "My Lady of the Beautiful Morning" believed in the education of story-telling; and she did not limit her stories wholly to tales with "morals," but told those that awakened the imagination. This she did for Lucy's sake and Charlie's, believing that all little people should pass through fairyland once in their lives. She used, like Queen Scheherazade of the Arabian Nights, to gather up stories that pictured places, habits, and manners of the people, to relate; and this year, when the garden began to flower, she had many such to tell under the trees. Sky-High was always a listener. He was always permitted to be with the family in the evening. He loved wonder-tales. They carried him off as on an "enchanted carpet." One evening Mrs. Van Buren said, "I have a new idea. Sky-High might tell _us_ some stories. He speaks English well when he chooses. Sky-High, tell us some tale of your own country. You have wonder-tales in China." "In the stories of my country animals talk," said Sky-High. "Tell us some of your stories in which animals talk," said Lucy, clapping her hands. "Animals always talk, everywhere," said Sky-High. "In China we interpret what they say." The word "interpret" was rather a big one for Lucy. But as Sky-High was given to using unexpected words, the little girl was herself beginning to indulge in a larger vocabulary. So Sky-High began to relate an old Chinese household story. THE SELF-RESPECTING DONKEY. There was once a Donkey who had great respect for himself, as many people do. Such wear good clothes. You may know what a man thinks of himself by the clothes he wears. We Chinese moralize in our stories as we go along. We tell _think_-tales. One day the Self-respecting Donkey went out into some green meadows near a wood, and was eating grass when a Tiger appeared on the verge of the meadow. The Self-respecting Donkey was very much surprised, but did not lose his dignity. So he uttered a deep bray. "Br-a-a-a!" The Tiger, in his turn, was very much surprised--for the Donkey's voice seemed to penetrate the earth. But as soon as he collected his wits he crouched as if to spring upon the Donkey and make a meal of him. The Self-respecting Donkey did not run. He moved with a slow, firm, and kingly step toward the Tiger. Then he dropped his head again, in such a way that his ears looked like great proclamations of wisdom and power. "Br-a-a-a!" His voice was truly terrible. The Tiger again quailed. "Oh, Beast of the Voice of the Thunder-winds," said he, "thou canst dispute with me and the Lion the kingship among animals!" The Donkey brayed again in a more terrible voice than before. "If you will accompany me into the wood," said he, "thou shalt see all animals flee from us." The Tiger felt complimented by an association with the animal who had gained his voice from the thunder, and shortly they entered the wood. The animals all fled when they saw them coming--not from the Donkey, but from the Tiger. Even the Raven dared not speak, and the Lion slunk back among the rocks; because a Tiger and a Donkey, together, might more than equal his terrifying roar. "See," said the Donkey, "all nature flees before us. Now walk behind me, and I will show you the secret of my power." The Tiger stepped behind; and the Donkey very quickly, in a pretty short time, showed him the secret of his power. He kicked the poor foolish Tiger in the head, breaking his nose, and stunning him. Then leaving him in the path for dead, he made good his escape. "Any one can be great," said he, "if he knows how to use his power!" He was a philosopher. When the poor Tiger came to his senses he rubbed his nose with his paw, and began to reflect on the lesson that he should learn from his association with a Donkey. He reflected long and well--and never said anything about it to anyone. "In my country," added little Sky-High, "we think that when one allows himself to get kicked by a donkey a long silence befits him--he can best show his wisdom in that way. Do you not think so, O Mandarin Americans?" The "Mandarin Americans" quite agreed with the conclusion drawn by Sky-High. It was about this time that little Lucy began to wonder if Sky-High were not a wang indeed. No common young Chinese could possess so many kinds of wisdom. He was able to read to her the labels on tea-chests, and to explain the odd figures on the many fans that decorated her playroom. "How do you know so much, Sky-High?" she asked one day when he had told her the meaning of the pictures on an old Chinese porcelain in the upper hall. "Many of the porcelains in our country are made to be read," he said. "All educated Chinese people can read porcelains. An American porcelain has no story." VI. THE MANDARIN PLATE. Among the heirlooms to be found in the closets of many New England houses is a curious pattern of China plate. This plate is colored blue-and-white, and in the bowl of each is a picture. The picture represents a rural scene in China--a bridge on which are two young people, a man and a woman; a house, and a tree, and two birds of beautiful plumage flying away. Mrs. Van Buren had such a plate, and a platter with the same rural picture, on her dining-room wall. It was the delight of Lucy to have Sky-High explain to her the meaning of the pictures on the Chinese vases and on an ornamental Chinese umbrella which hung in the reception-room. One day when Sky-High was dusting in the dining-room, Lucy's eye fell on the blue-and-white plate with the picture of the bridge and birds. "Oh, Sky-High," said Lucy, "mother has a treasure here--a porcelain plate of your country, see!" Sky-High looked up to the old porcelain. He had seen such a plate a thousand times; so often, in so many places, that Mrs. Van Buren's had not drawn his eye. "It is a mandarin plate," he explained to Lucy. "It has a magic power; it brings good luck. My people keep those plates for good fortune." "A magic plate?" Lucy was all curiosity, now. "Tell me the story of the magic plate," she said. "Sit down and tell me. Who are the young people on the bridge? Begin." "They are the same as the birds flying away. The birds and the young people are one." Lucy's interest in the magic plate grew. Sky-High promised to tell her its legend at some time when her mother should be present. Lucy went at once to her mother. "Oh, mother, we have a magic plate!" "We have? Where?" "It is the blue-and-white one over the sideboard." "Oh! is that a magic plate? That was your grandmother's plate. Old families used to value that kind of ware from China--I do not know why." "Come with me, and take it down, for Sky-High knows the story of the picture." Mrs. Van Buren went in and took the plate down; and little Sky-High said, "It is the mandarin plate of our country. In the plate you cannot see the Good Spirit in the air, but it is there. This Good Spirit in the air changes people into other forms when trouble comes, and they fly away." "But what is the story?" asked Lucy. "There was once a prince," said Sky-High, "whose name was Chang. He was a good prince; and there he is--the young man in the plate. "And Prince Chang, the Good, loved a beautiful princess, as good as she was pretty; and there _she_ is--the young woman in the plate. "The prince and princess went to live on a beautiful isle, where was an orange-tree--see--and there was an old mandarin who lived near--see his house there--and he did not like the good prince and pretty princess when he saw how happy they were on the Isle of the Orange-tree. "So he determined to separate them; and one day, when he was very full of dislike, he went towards the bridge that led to the Beautiful Isle to catch them. But something very wonderful happened." "Oh, what _did_ happen?" said Lucy. "I can hardly wait to learn." "The Good Spirit of the air saw the grim old mandarin stealing away toward the bridge to cross to the Beautiful Isle of the Orange-tree, and he changed the prince and princess into two birds and they flew away. See them flying there at the top of the plate!" "I will give you the plate," said Mrs. Van Buren to Lucy; "for it was your grandmother's plate, and her name was Lucy, and she would be glad, were she living, to have you delight in a legend like that. It is good to think that a loving Spirit hovers over us when evil draws near us--I like the parable of the plate. I thank you for the story, Sky-High. Your country has good stories." "The story of the mandarin plate," said the little Chinaman, "is also told in my country in a more tragic way; that the lovely girl is the mandarin's daughter, and that he slays the lovers, and that it is their souls that are seen flying away in the two birds. But it is the other story that our scholars like." VII. SKY-HIGH'S KITE. Charles and Lucy wished to give Sky-High a surprise. They had come into possession of a kite which had been described to them as marvelous, and they got their mother's permission to take the little Chinaman to Franklin Park to see them fly it for the first time. Franklin Park is not far from Milton Hill; and the street-cars readily carry the crowds of children to the pleasure-grounds of the immense common of woods, fields, great rocks and elms, and whole prairies of grass. It is quite free--the dwellers of close Boston and its bowery suburbs own the vast pleasure-place--the people could hardly have more privileges there did each one hold a deed of it. Little Sky-High thought this wonderful when it was explained to him. The Van Burens had ample grounds of their own, but Mrs. Van Buren and the children liked to go to Franklin Park. Mrs. Van Buren liked to sit in the great stone Emerson arbor on Schoolmaster's Hill, and watch the white flocks of English sheep wander to and fro and feed, guarded and guided by shepherd-dogs, and to gaze away in an idle reverie at the Blue Hills under the purple charm of distance. No one jeered now when the Van Buren children appeared in the street with the little Chinaman. Nobody cried, "Rat-tail!" Nobody cried, "Washee-washee-wang!" He often rode with them in the carriage. People looked at him, to be sure, but only with interest--the fame of his accomplishments in the English language had gone abroad. It was a beautiful early summer day, the white daisies waving in the west wind. Crossing the field, from a little green hill the children prepared to send up the new kite. Out of his narrow black eyes little Sky-High looked at it, as they took it from the package and sent it up. It seemed simply a frame-work, but presently the American flag rolled out in the sky, as though it hung alone, or had bloomed there. Sky-High beheld it with pleasure. Great was America! He was contented to sit and watch it for hours, or as long as the children pleased. It was not until sunset that the starry kite was hauled down through the golden air, and Lucy and Charles prepared to return home. On the way the little serving-man said, "I have a kite in my trunk. You let me fly it for you some day? You come with me here?" So another breezy day the Van Buren children came to the Park with Sky-High. Lucy danced about in the green world for very light-heartedness. "You stay at the overlook," said Sky-High, pointing to the wild-flower embankment surrounded by burning azalias, "and I will show you how Chinese boys fly kites." He had brought a thin package under his arm, and while Lucy and Charles waited at the embankment he ran like a thing of air out into the open field. It was a glorious June day; and the great elms with their fresh young foliage were glimmering thick in the fiery sky, and like an emerald sea was the grass on the field, where hundreds of children were playing ball and other games. Sky-High threw to the air a bundle of red with a few light angles and circles of bamboo, and it began at once to rise and expand. It went up into the mid-air, and fold after fold rolled out, and there appeared a great dragon. All the children on the field stopped in their play to look up at it. The sun turned the dragon to intense red. To all appearance a terrible monster had taken possession of the air! Suddenly the dragon wheeled about and went coiling along towards the overlook, Sky-High following and guiding its course. When it was just overhead it opened a great mouth, and smoke seemed to issue from it. "Look out, little Lady of the Lotus," cried Sky-High merrily, "or it may swallow you!" The little girl ran aside, but the dragon made no attempt to come down. When at a height some twenty feet above the earth it paused. Then suddenly, with a puff, it poured down a shower of flowers, butterflies, and gilded paper, like a gold shower. The air was full of them; they drifted here, there, and everywhere. All the children on the field ran to behold the wonder. Everybody shouted, and a great crowd of little people gathered around Sky-High to pick up the tissue flowers and butterflies. "Ah," said the little Chinaman, "you ought to see him do that in the night, when all he sends down turns into fire!" There never had been seen a kite like Sky-High's before. But the Chinese have been masters of kite-flying for more than two thousand years. Among their national festivals they have a kite-flying day. Sky-High often came there with his magic kite. He became a very popular boy in the Park. The Boston boys said "Hello!" when they met him in his azure suit, quiet fun shining in his eyes. Lucy and Charles walked by his side with pride. They introduced him to all of their friends who asked it, and everybody spoke of him. "Oh, he is such a gentleman, and so educated! Haven't you heard about him? He came to learn how to do business and understand our American homes. He will go back to his country and teach sometime. No doubt a working-boy can rise in China the same as in our land!" Lucy often begged her mother to let Sky-High wear his beautiful Chinese clothes to the Park--with his kite he would seem like a true enchanter! But Mrs. Van Buren strictly forbade. VIII. A WAN. One day there was heard a tremendous explosion in the department of Sky-High. Mrs. Van Buren came running down-stairs. Lucy followed her, all eyes and ears. Irish Nora met them, running up-stairs. The kitten fled out, and jumped over the fence. The parrot was shrieking. Above Sky-High's door, Mrs. Van Buren saw a strange black character on a big red paper. It was a square character and somewhat like a heavy "X" and also somewhat like a heavy "H." Sky-High stood calmly ironing inside his little house at the end of the grape-arbor. Nora followed her mistress to that abode of mystery. "It's dynamated we are to be sure!" said she. "I shut my eyes and run, for I thought it was Sky-High that had gone off--but there he stood ironing! And there he stands now!" "Sky-High," said Mrs. Van Buren, "what was that sound I heard?" "Crackers, mistress." "We are only allowed to fire crackers on holidays. Why did you light crackers?" "To disperse the evil spirits, mistress, the dragons in the air, the imps. It is the way we serve them in China." "There are no evil spirits here, Sky-High. What could have made you think that there were, Sky-High?" "The cat--she is long bewitched after my queue. I fired the crackers to dis-power her--I saw her tail going over the fence! She is dis-possessed. She will not jump at Sky-High's queue any more. We shoot crackers in China when evil spirits come in the air. China is a spirit-land, mistress. Our air is filled with bright spirits and dark ones. When the cat begins to frisk its tail, we know there has come a company of evil spirits. The little cat's tail this morning went snap-snap!" "Oh, Sky-High! there are no evil spirits in this blooming garden," said his mistress. "The little white cat is possessed by a playful spirit, perhaps. What is that strange figure in black on the red paper flag over the door?" "That is the wan, mistress." "And what is the wan, Sky-High?" "The mystic sign that warns off evil spirits." "Did I not say there are no evil spirits here?" Here little Sky-High's eyes began to blink. "Why did master put a horse-shoe over the stable-door?" Lucy looked up at her mother. And said Nora, "I would discharge that sassbox of a Chinese at once!" "Have you more crackers, Sky-High?" "In my chest, mistress." "Keep them until the Fourth of July, Sky-High. At any time when you think there are evil spirits about, come up to me." "May Sky-High let the wan fly over his door?" "Yes," said Mrs. Van Buren; "while the horse-shoe remains over the stable to keep witches out, you may let the wan stay. You have as much right to your superstitions as we to ours." Sky-High in a serene and beautiful spirit continued ironing, Nora went back to her pantry. "It's not I that likes the foreign boy under the roof," she said. "He'll be convertin' the mistress into a haythen! It'll not be long I'll be here!" Lucy sat down outside among the trees and birds and watched the wan waving gently in the wind. How neat Sky-High looked in his flowing dress of white and blue! She wondered again if he were not indeed a wang! After a while she made up her mind to relate a Jataka story that night. The curious tales their little serving-man had told, he called Jataka legends--all of them parables to illustrate the teachings of the divine Buddha. (Also these tales had accounts of mountains that were more than a million miles high, of trees that were a thousand miles tall, and of fishes that were thousands of miles long.) These tales had enchanted Lucy, though Charlie cared little for them--he preferred to hear of kites and other Chinese games. But Lucy seemed to catch their spirit. And in the evening, when Sky-High sat with them under the trees or in the balconies, she often said, "Now tell us a Jataka story!" But one night she had said instead, "Now let _me_ tell _you_ a Jataka story!" The idea that Lucy had a Jataka story seemed to greatly amuse Sky-High. But the tale itself set his black eyes shining and blinking. This had been Lucy's tale: "Sky-High, I dreamed that you were a wang and had lived in a palace." To-day she sat a long time in the arbor to compose the tale she would tell in the evening when they would be on the veranda, with Sky-High on the stair at their feet. So in the evening she said, "I have composed another Jataka story. Would you like to hear it, mother? Would you, Sky-High?" IX. LUCY'S JATAKA STORY. Now the little Chinaman began his stories with words like these, for most Jataka stories so begin: "Once upon a time in the days of Buddha-Atta in Benares." To-night Lucy began her tale in nearly the same manner--the words sounded so fine. "Once on a time, _after_ the days of Buddha-Atta in Benares, there was a little Chinese boy who was born a wang, which is a king. And they called him Wang High-Sky. "And he lived in a palace, and the stairs of the palace were golden amber, and the windows were of crystal, and all the knives and forks were made of pearl and silver. "And they told little Wang High-Sky that there were countries beyond the water, also. "And the little Wang High-Sky said, 'Let me go and see. There may be something I can learn in other lands. There may be queer people there--if so, I would never laugh at them. Let me go and see how they live!' "And they put him on board a dragon boat, with lanterns of silver and pearls, and with sails of silk, and carried him to the great hotel on the water, that had come from other lands, which was called a ship. For there truly were people beyond the water. "And little Wang High-Sky was a very bright boy. He had a diamond in his brain. So he found a place to live in an awfully good family, and in the family was a little girl named Lucy. "And he worked and worked and worked until he could do all things like the good family. "And one day he thought he would go home to his palace with stairs of golden amber and windows of crystal. "And Lucy thought she would like to see the people in little Wang's country. "And Lucy's father and mother said they would take her to the country of little Wang when he went back. "And she went to little Wang's country, and she found the trees there a hundred miles high, and the fishes two hundred miles long, and horses winged with gold as if just about to fly, and they staid and kept house in Wang High-Sky's palace two thousand years. "And she and her father and mother and brother were very joyful when they all came back. "And in their own country they found that every one had become rich and happy, and that people flew about like birds, and that the sun shone in the night. And!" she added, "isn't that a Jataka story?" Lucy's mother seemed much pleased, also astonished; but Sky-High said nothing for some time. "Do you think me a wang?" asked he, at last. "I wish you were--oh, how Charlie and I would dance about if you were! I think the everyday boys in China cannot be like you. And I do not think you ironed clothes in China. I wish you _were_ a king's son!" "And what if I were?" "Oh--I don't know," laughed little Lucy. "Don't we treat you as well as if you were? Ladies and gentlemen treat ladies and gentlemen like wangs in America. Don't we, mother?" "I trust so. I trust our little Sky-High has found it so," answered Lucy's mother. "So would Sky-High treat you were you to come to his home," said the little Chinaman. "But you have no home, Sky-High," broke in Charlie. "You said you lived with a mandarin!" The little Chinaman, who had a beautiful fan in his hand, for it was a hot night, made his mistress and her children a bow of indescribable grace, and went to his own quarters. X. SKY-HIGH'S EASTER SUNDAY. The little Chinaman seemed to make no very great task of learning "the art of the American home." His small deft olive hand was more or less upon everything, from cellar to attic. "_I_ think our house-boy knew how to keep a house beautiful, mother, before he came to our country," said Lucy one day. "Well, perhaps he _was_ a wang," said her mother, "and _did_ live in a palace!" "Doesn't Mr. Consul Bradley know about him, mother?" "Consul Bradley says Sky-High's father is a good man, and that Sky-High is a good boy with a bright mind. Of course, Lucy, there are nice Chinese people and nice Chinese homes." Certainly the little house-boy was wonderfully energetic. He was able to save every Thursday for himself, and always went into Boston on that day and, as Mrs. Van Buren learned, visited the consular office. One day Mrs. Van Buren asked, "What do you do all day in town, Sky-High?" "I see Boston, mistress." "And what is it you see?" "The American stores, mistress, and the American little Kinder-schools, and the American great college-schools, and the American railcar shops, and the American hotels, and the American markets, and the Americans, mistress." "And who goes with you on these visits, Sky-High?" An attack of blinking seized little Sky-High. "The consul, he goes." Mrs. Van Buren drove into town next day. While there she made a call upon the Chinese consular agent. Lucy was with her. Consul Bradley appeared to have little fresh information to give. "The boy's father is a good man," he said. "Like the wise fathers everywhere he craves knowledge for his son. I promised him Sky-High should see something of Boston, and I do for him all I can." "Mother," said Lucy on the way home, "we might be nicer to Sky-High. Listen!" Her mother listened to Lucy's plan, and gave permission. When Lucy got home she said to Sky-High, "We want you to go to church with us; and Charlie and I want you to go with us to our Sunday school. There are Chinese Sunday schools in Boston, but we wish you to be in ours." "I will have to wear my queue, and my flowing clothes, Lucy," said the boy. "But, Sky-High, you can braid your braid close, and wind it around your head, and put on your black tunic, and you shall sit in our pew. Besides, anyway, it would be proper for a person of China to wear his braid down his back after the custom of his country." "You speak as kindly as would the daughter of a wang!" said Sky-High, with his beautiful bow of ceremony. On Sunday the little Chinaman dressed his hair becomingly and put on black clothes, with white ruffles. He sat in the Van Buren pew, beside Charlie. He listened to the organ like one entranced. It was Easter Day, and the house was full of the odor of lilies. The text for the service was these words of Jesus: "_If any man keep my sayings he shall never see death._" The "Joss preacher," as he called the minister, came and spoke to him, and invited him to go into the Sunday-school room. In the evening he made Chinese tea, and served it in the library, and afterward sat with the family. Suddenly he said, "Mistress, what were the 'sayings' of Jesus? Sky-High wishes to live on forever." Mrs. Van Buren read the Beatitudes. "And what is the heaven, mistress?" "Sky-High," said Mrs. Van Buren, very earnestly, to her little servant, "I scarcely know how to tell you what heaven is, only that we surely have a part in its building here by our Loving and our Helping here. You know how dear it is to be with those you love, you know how pleasant it is to meet again those you have helped. That is the law of the soul. God loves and helps us, and will rejoice in having us abide with him, and that will make us happy; and all whom we have made better and happier here will help make our heaven for us. Heaven is the gladness of Loving and Helping as nearly as I know." "That heaven--it is beautiful, mistress," said little Sky-High. In his own country, it had been pleasant music to hear the "prayer-wheels" go round in the temples, whirling the paper prayers fastened upon them, but the pleasure he felt at this moment was different. "I will help many, mistress," he said. "Perhaps Sky-High will help the boys that pull his queue on the street when he goes errands to the stores. Sky-High will go with his mistress and her children other Sundays, if he may. Goodnight, mistress!" So ended the Easter Sunday of the little Chinaman. XI. SKY-HIGH'S FIREWORKS. One June evening, in the balcony, when Sky-High inquired about American holidays, Mrs. Van Buren related to him the story of Washington and of the American Independence. She enlivened her narratives by Weems's story of the boy Washington and the hatchet. "He never told a lie?" asked Sky-High. "Was that so wonderful? Confucius, he tell no lies; Sky-High, he tell no lies." Mrs. Van Buren described to him Independence Day, and how it was celebrated. Sky-High asked many questions, and began to look forward to the celebration. On the morning of the Fourth the sun came up red, and glimmered on the cool sea and dewy trees. To Sky-High the air seemed to blossom with flags; the far State House dome rose like an orb of gold above the bunting that floated over the great forest of Boston Common. Cannon rent the morning silence, and everywhere there were crackers bursting. Even the milkmen fired them as they went on their early way. Sky-High danced about. "You have Cracker Day! It is all same as China!" he said. Some of the Milton boys who had many bunches of fire-crackers, good-naturedly thought they would startle little Washee-washee-wang at his work. So they stole around a corner of the garden, where he was busy in his neat little cabin, and "lit" a whole bunch and threw it over the fence, at a point where all would "go off" right at his door, then threw after it two cannon crackers, whose fuses burned slowly. When the small crackers began to explode Sky-High, to whom the noise was like music, came and stood in the door and danced with delight. Irish Norah heard the rattling explosions in the garden, and ran out. "China! China!" shouted Sky-High. "Red crackers make the bad spirits fly! The garden all free from evil spirits all day." Just then both of the cannon crackers in the grass "went off," with a deafening bang. Norah jumped, and put her fat hands to her ears. But little Sky-High clapped his after the American fashion. His delight in the racket and in the smell of the gunpowder was so intense, that Charlie forebore to go out on the street, but staid in and fired his immense supply in front of the cabin. In the evening there were fireworks everywhere, small and great. The children and Sky-High went up to a turret overlooking the sea. The sky over the towns around Boston blazed. "I will show you something fine," suddenly said Sky-High, after he had gazed for some time. He went down and unlocked his great chest. He spoke to Mrs. Van Buren's friends on the verandah as he came back. "Sky-High, he is going to fire a star! Look this side!" He called to all as he "fired the star." The company saw a dark, swift object ascending. It was soon lost to sight, and then appeared a wonder--a new star high in the heavens, that burned a long time with a steady flame and grew. How beautiful it was! At last it began to descend. When near the earth it burst into a hundred stars of seven colors. In all Boston there was no firework as wonderful as Sky-High's. The day after he began to inquire about the next American holiday. Mrs. Van Buren told him about Thanksgiving Day. Then she told him of Christmas, and how the Christmas festival was kept. She related the story of the birth of the Christ Child, and of the Bethlehem star, of the singing angels in the sky, of the Magi, and the manger; of the presents of gold and myrrh and nard. She told him how that now all people of "good will" made presents to each other like the magi to the Christ Child. "So will Sky-High make you presents on the Christ Child day, then, he has good will. You have treated him as though he were no servant but a prince." Charlie and Lucy told him of the Christmas-tree, and the plays under the misletoe. Their mother ordered misletoe from Florida every year, for Christmas decorations, from a plantation which their father owned near Tampa, a plantation of grape-fruit groves. She had a mistle-thrush among her caged birds, that always sang very sweetly when she hung it under the newly-gathered waxy misletoe. From that time on, the little Chinaman dreamed of Christmas. One day he said to Mrs. Van Buren, "You will surely let Sky-High come up-stairs on the night of the Christmas-tree?" "Yes, yes, you shall come up-stairs with us, and you shall hear the Christmas thrush sing under the misletoe." Sky-High's heart fluttered, not at what he hoped to see, but at the thought of the presents that he hoped to make. Shortly before Christmas Mrs. Van Buren went to her little servant to pay him his wages, for he had accepted no payment as yet. "Keep it all for me," he said, as usual; "I will ask for it when I need it." Mrs. Van Buren was very much surprised. "Young people in this country," said she, "think they need a little money before Christmas day to buy presents." "Sky-High needs none. He will make you presents on the Christ Child day. He has them now in his chest." Mrs. Van Buren could not but wonder what the presents would be. Everything that Sky-High did had a surprise in it. All things that came out of the chest were of an astonishing character. "And I will serve you the tea that you have not yet tasted," added the little servant. "On the Christ Child night I will make in the cup the tea that came from the eyelashes of the Dharma. And afterwards I will tell you the story of the Dharma." Again, a day or two before the holiday of Good Will, Sky-High's mistress asked him to take his wages. "Keep it for me, mistress," said the boy as before. "Sky-High, he works for the good of his people." Mrs. Van Buren stood pondering the words. What meant the little Washee-washee-wang? "Mistress," said the boy, busy folding the glossy napkins on the ironing table, "the master plans to make a voyage around the world with his family." "Yes, Sky-High," said Mrs. Van Buren, "that the children may see the world before they begin to study about it." "And you will come to my country, mistress?" "Yes; we hope to visit at least Hong Kong and Canton, Shanghai and Pekin." "You will wish to see the home of Sky-High, mistress." "Yes, we would like to see you in your own country." "When will the master go?" "Next year, probably." "Sky-High will go home next year. Will you let him go with you, mistress? He will serve you on the ships, and in China he will make your visit pleasant. He will interpret for you, and show you about, and introduce you about." Mrs. Van Buren was too kind to let her astonishment be seen by her little serving-man. She said that possibly it might be so arranged. As she went up-stairs she heard Nora exclaiming to herself in the pantry. "And he says he'll inthroduce the misthress about, and the misthress is narely as quare!" After supper Mrs. Van Buren related to her husband the singular interview she had had with their little Chinaman. Sky-High's kind offers seemed to amuse him for a long time. "But as for the little fellow's wages," said he, "don't bother. I'll step in to the consul's, and deposit them with Bradley." When Sky-High found that he was serving to amuse his mistress's household, he turned silent. He worked, asking few questions, and listened to even the children without answering them. This disturbed Charlie and Lucy. "See here, Sky-High, can't you take a joke?" demanded Charlie. "Sky-High no joke with the mistress. Sky-High no make a lie!" said the patient Chinaman; "Sky-High, his heart is hurt." XII. A CHINESE SANTA CLAUS. The day before Christmas Lucy came to her mother with a request. "Just one thing, mother! And it isn't more presents--the Good Will tree hangs full!" "Well, then, what is it, Lucy?" asked Mrs. Van Buren. Little Lucy laughed. "A Chinese Santa Claus, mother! Think what a Santa Claus Sky-High would make in his flowing robes of black, yellow, and white all sprinkled over with silver and gold! Nearly all the gifts are Chinese, you know--all but ours for him. Just remember how he looked last summer on Sunday afternoons when the birds flew down to admire him!" Yes, the birds seemed to have felt a curiosity about the little Chinaman when he went out into the garden with the children after Sunday luncheon; for sometimes, on that day, he used to put on garments so splendid that he did not like to show himself above stairs or on the street, and the birds came out of the trees to take a peep at him. One of these garments was a frock of silk covered with golden dragons, lotus-flowers, and gilded fringes; and with it he wore a golden butterfly with jeweled wings on his rimless cap. Even Mr. Van Buren had wondered where a servant obtained such a glittering robe! One day he described the wardrobe of his house-boy to the consul. "Is everything all right?" he asked. The consul laughed. "You don't know China!" he said. "Probably the old Manchurian mandarin had a fancy for decking out the boy!" Nora's eyes used to double in size when she saw him in silk and gold and silver, with the jeweled butterfly waving above his narrow black eyes. "There's not the loikes on this planet," she would say. "I would think he'd stepped off a star and landed here! Queen Victory never looked the aqual of that little hathen varmit!" It was agreed that Sky-High should be made the Santa Claus of the Christmas party. He promised to appear in his dragon robe, though he said it was never worn in public excepting on vice-royal occasions. "Sky-High, did you ever see a vice-royal occasion?" asked Lucy, wondering what the double word meant. "Yea, my little Lady of the Lotus," answered the house-boy. "And once I was present on a royal occasion in Pekin. The Son of Heaven appeared that day in all his splendor." "You waited on your mandarin?" asked Lucy. "I attended upon my mandarin--yes?" Little Sky-High burst forth into the forbidden "flowery language." "It was in the Purple City. Barbarians cannot understand; but in our court, in the Inner City, in the ancient Purple City, we associate with the Sun and Moon and the Dragon that swallows the Sun. The Sacred Lotus is our flower, and at the feast the heavens are made to shine on us!" Lucy's face shone too, just to hear the words of the mysterious little "Washee-washee-wang,"--in fact she had been radiant ever since she had first thought of making a Santa Claus of him. She wondered how he would look to her mother's friends on Christ Child night, wearing his "celestial" robes. The children were to have their own tree on Christmas eve, at the church among the evergreens and music, and Sky-High was to accompany them in his black clothes and white ruffles. The Christmas night tree was always at home, for Mrs. Van Buren and her friends. Little Lucy was to lead the Christmas night jollities, and only the Santa Claus himself knew what would follow the wave of the long Chinese wand which she carried. The guests gathered early--half a dozen ladies--for it was to be a story-telling evening. Promptly at the moment when Lucy waved for him, little Sky-High came into the parlors fanning slowly with his great ceremonial fan, as if entering some languid pagoda garden of his native land. Every guest leaned forward to gaze at the gorgeous stranger. His silk stockings were white, over black shoes with silver buckles and whitened soles. His robe sparkled gaily with the dragon and lotus, and the butterfly on his gold-banded cap shook its jeweled wings with every step. He wore a sash of gems which the family had not seen before. He moved before the company like a figure of sunshine. Little Lucy had come to his side. "I have the great felicity," she began--she had got the fine word from Sky-High--"to have a celestial Santa Claus, a wang from China, to serve you the gifts from the Good Will tree." The glittering wang bowed to the four corners of the earth, then to all, turning round and round in dazzling circles. No, Mrs. Van Buren's Christmas guests had never seen a Santa Claus like this one! All eyes were wide with pleased wonder. "Isn't he perfectly splendid?" whispered Lucy, tripping over to the wife of the rector. "He is indeed, dear," said the rector's wife; and added low to her neighbor, "Is it not their wonderful house-boy?" No one was certain. And no one, excepting Lucy and the Santa Claus, knew what were the gifts on the Good Will tree. Lucy and little Sky-High had bought them in Boston. All those for the guests were blue-and-white mandarin plates, wrapped in squares of gay silk crape, and tied with a profusion of soft gold cord. As the packages were alike, the celestial Santa Claus could present them without mistakes. But there were some packages in red-and-gold crape still on the tree, not large ones--not magic plates, certainly. The Santa Claus unwrapped the three which he next took from the green branches. The presents were amulets. When unfolded they revealed bells and gems; the bells looked like gold; the gems like pure pearls, opals, and crystals. One was a necklace for Mrs. Van Buren; one a bracelet for Lucy; and the other a charm for Charles. The amulets awakened a great surprise. The little golden bells burned with the red lusters of rubies, and tinkled as though they were dream-bells. "They keep evil spirits away," said Sky-High, with sparkling eyes. "They ring warnings." Mrs. Van Buren rose and put one of the other packages in little Sky-High's hand. The wrappings revealed a four-fold case of gold, which some curious mechanism permitted to open into leaves, and stand us a tablet, or half-closed. Each leaf held a small and perfect portrait--the four were of the little serving-man's mistress and her children and the master; and it is impossible to describe the blissful expression in Sky-High's eyes when he first looked upon the familiar faces. And there was still another package. That one the little Chinaman had put on the Good Will tree for Nora. It was an English gold sovereign in a case tied with red ribbon. "And may the Angel of Mercy spread her white wings over that hathen boy's pigtail!" said Nora, as she was given the gift. "I wish I had something for him. I will give him kind words now, and sure!" XIII. A LEGEND OF TEA. At a wave of little Lucy's wand the shining, golden Santa Claus floated away as he came. When he next appeared--and it seemed but a moment or two after--he bore a salver that was gorgeous to see. Upon it, sending up clouds of steam, was a wonderfully beautiful pitcher that his mistress never before had seen, encircled by some exquisite small black cups, inlaid and encrusted heavily with gold, each with a perforated cover. "Sky-High presents to his mistress, the Moon Lady of the Christ Child Night," the little fellow said in his best flowery English, "and to her friends, the Stars of the Midnight, the mandarin tea in the mandarin cups of his country--they will please to be accepted from the Santa Claus." From the pitcher he poured the bubbling water in the mandarin cups, when an exquisite fragrance filled the rooms, as of apple-blossoms. While the guests sipped the priceless tea from the priceless cups, at the request of his mistress the little Chinaman related a Buddhist legend. THE DHARMA'S EYELASHES. More than four hundred and a thousand years ago, O Madame my Mistress, the great Dharma came to China to teach the people. He ate only fruits, and he slept but little; he gave his time almost entirely to meditation. The Dharma ate less and less, and slept less and less, and all things were beginning to appear clear to him within, when a drowsiness came over him, and it increased day by day. One day his eyelashes became too heavy for his eyes; they hung like little weights on his eyes, and he fell asleep. He awoke after a long time. The inner light had gone. He felt that he had committed a great sin. "It is you, my little eyelashes," he said, "that weighed me down, and I will punish you. I will cut you off." Then the great Dharma cut off the little black eyelashes, and strewed them upon the ground. As he did so he had the inward light again. He meditated. As he did so the little eyelashes on the ground turned into wee shrubs, and began to grow. They were tea. The Dharma ate the tea. The shrub filled his heart with joy and gladness. So tea came into the world. Drink it--it will fill your heart with joy and gladness. The Rector's wife gave the Santa Claus a seat by her side that he might share with the company the pleasure of the Good Will story his mistress was next to relate; and little Lucy, too, and Charlie came and sat near-by, for they loved their mother's stories, and could always understand them. XIV. MRS. VAN BUREN'S CHRISTMAS TALE. The most beautiful story Mrs. Van Buren had found in her search during the year for a tale to tell her friends around the Good Will tree was one in the German tongue. She had translated it during the summer, and now called it by a title of her own as she told it. RED MANTLE, THE HOUSE SPIRIT. There was a German pedler who traveled from city to city by the name of Berthold. He grew in wealth, and at last carried portmanteaus of jewels of great value. He usually traveled only in the daytime, and so as to arrive early in the evening at the town inns between the Hartz Mountains and the Rhine. But on one journey he was belated. He found himself in an unknown way in a great fir forest, where the dark pines shut out the lamps of the stars. He began to fear, for the forests were reputed to be infested with robbers, when suddenly a peculiar light appeared. It was a fire that fumed with a steady flame; he perceived it was a charcoal pit. The colliers are honest people, he reasoned; and with a light step he approached the pit. Near-by was a long house, two stories high, and the lower windows were bright with the candles and fire within. He approached the house, and knocked upon the door. The door was opened cautiously by a middle-aged woman, with a bent form and beautiful, but troubled face. "What would thee have, stranger?" "Food and lodging, madam." "That can never be--not here, not here. It distresses me to say it, but it would not be for your comfort to tarry here." "But I am belated, and have lost my way. I must come in." "I will call my husband. Herman, come here!" She stepped aside, when an elderly man appeared, holding a light shaded by his hand, and followed by a group of children. "I am a belated traveler," said he to Herman, the collier, "and I have lost my way. I see that you are an honest man, and I may tell you that I have merchandise of value, and so it is not safe for me to go on. Give me a shelter and a meal, and I will pay for all." "It is loath I am to turn away a stranger, but this is no place for a traveler. The house is haunted, yet it will not be so always, I hope; but it is so now." "But, good man, I am not afraid." "You do not know, stranger." "But I can sleep where you can, and where this good woman can live with her innocent children." "You don't know," said the woman, "You don't know." "But I must rest here. There may be thieves without, wolves. There cannot be worse things within. I must come in, and I will." Berthold forced his way into the house, and sat down near the fire, laying his portmanteau near him. The family were silent, and looked distressed. But the woman set before him a meal. "Let us sing," said the collier at last. He turned to a table where were musical glasses, and began to play. How sweet and delicate, like an angel's strain, the music was! Then he began to sing with his family: "Now the woods are all sleeping, O guard us, we pray!" The merchant thought that he had never listened to anything so beautiful. After the old German song, Herman said: "Let us pray--will you kneel with us, traveler? You may have need of our prayers, for you have come in to us at your peril." Much astonished at these words, the merchant knelt down beside his portmanteau. The collier began to pray, when there was a light sound at the storm-door, and a draft of wind stirred the ashes. The merchant turned his face towards the door. A strange sight met his gaze, such as he had never seen before. A little dwarf stood there with eyes like coal and with a red mantle. He moved the door to and fro. His eyes gleamed. He looked like a burning image. At last, swaying the door, he gave the merchant an evil glance that seemed to burn out his very soul, and was gone. The prayer ended, and the family rose from their knees. "I will now show you to your chamber," said the collier; "but before we go up, listen to me. If you do not think one evil thought or speak one evil word during the night, no harm will befall you. Promise me now that you will not think one evil thought or speak one evil word, whatever may befall you." "I promise you, good people, that I will try not to think one evil thought or to speak one evil word, whatsoever may befall me." "And you must not give way to anger; if you do, anger is fire, and he will grow!" said the collier. The collier led the merchant up the stairs to his room and left him there, saying, "Remember." The moon shone into the room. The Swiss cuckoo clock struck ten--eleven--twelve. The merchant could not sleep. He was haunted by the fiery eyes that he had seen at the storm-door. Suddenly the door of his own chamber opened, and a red light filled the room. The same dwarf with the red mantle had entered the chamber and was approaching the bed. The merchant had laid his portmanteau of jewels upon the foot of the bed, with the straps hanging over the bedside. He put his foot down under the clothes so as to touch the case. The light grew brighter, and advanced nearer. Now the dwarf stood full in view, his eyes flashing, and his feet moving as cautiously, his head now and then turned aside, and his hands lifting the red mantle. He came to the foot of the bed, and stood there for a time. The merchant grew impatient, and felt his anger rising. The dwarf turned away his flaming eyes from him and began to handle the straps of the portmanteau of jewels. The merchant's anger at the annoyance grew, and became uncontrollable. "Avaunt!" cried he with terrible oath, leaping from the bed. The dwarf stood before him and began to grow. He shot up at last into a flame, and stretched out his arms. He was a giant. "Help! help!" cried the merchant. There was a sound in the rooms below. The red giant reeled through the door and down the stairs and out into the night. The collier came running up the stairs, "What, what," he demanded, "have you been doing to our House Spirit?" "To your House Spirit?" "Yes, he has just gone out; he is a giant again!" The good wife was following her husband, and wailing. "Now we will have to live him down again; oh, woe, woe; this is an evil night; we will have to live him down again." "Stranger," said the collier, "these things may seem strange to you, but when we came here our lives were haunted by the red giant that has gone out into the wood. We knew not what to do, but we sent for the old pastor, and he said: 'Good forester, you can live him down. Think only good thoughts, speak only good words, do only good deeds, and he will become smaller and smaller, less and less. Harbor no evil-minded person in your house. You may one day live him out of sight, and change him angel.' We had almost lived him down!" "But what was he?" asked the merchant. "He was our Visible Temptation." In the morning the merchant hurried away. Ten years passed. The merchant chanced to travel through the same forest again. Night was coming on, and he recalled the collier's house. He went to it again. He knocked and an old man met him at the door. "Thou art welcome," said the old man. "We are not forgetful to entertain strangers. What wouldst thou?" "Supper and lodging," said the merchant. "They shall be yours. We offer hospitality to all." He was Herman, the collier. He did not recognize the merchant. The old woman--for she was now gray--set before him an ample supper. The children had grown to be young men and women. The cuckoo clock struck the hour of nine. The collier altered the musical glasses. "Will you join with us in singing?" asked he of the traveler. The family sang as before the old German hymn: "Now the woods are all sleeping, Guard us we pray." "Let us pray now," said the collier. They knelt; the merchant by his portmanteau as before. He watched the storm-door. It did not open. But he became conscious of light overhead. He looked up. A star was forming there. Then a face of light on whose forehead gleamed the star. Then wings of pure light were outstretched above the family. "Amen," said the collier. The light over him vanished. The collier's family had lived down the demon, and changed him into an angel. The Christmastide passed, but for days afterward the story of the forest family that lived down all the evil in them and turned it into an angel, haunted the mind of little Sky-High. "I will tell that story, mistress," he said one day, "at the Feasts in my Country of the Crystal Sea." "And to whom will you tell it, Sky-High?" asked Mrs. Van Buren. "The Mandarin of the Crystal Sea is not deaf, mistress. Sky-High will tell it to him." XV. IN THE HOUSE-BOY'S CARE. Lucy and Charles were full of joy when it was fully decided that they were to be taken on a voyage around the world. They spent whole evenings with Sky-High, tracing the route on the maps and globes. They would go by the way of San Francisco or Vancouver, and thence to Canton. They were to visit Sky-High's land first of all. "They're all gone mad sure!" said Nora; "and that boy'll never send 'em back!" Mr. Van Buren wished to learn something of the Chinese language as spoken, and was willing to study an hour every evening with the house-boy, and Lucy and Charles picked up the funny choking phrases as fast as their father. Mr. Van Buren said that Manchuria, the land of the conquering Tartars, was likely to play a notable part in the history of the future in connection with the great Siberian railway; and the whole family began to take an interest in the history and condition of that vast province on the Ameer, where little Sky-High had lived. Mrs. Van Buren read aloud to them all the story of Kubla Khan and of Tamerlane, and of Marco Polo, the great traveler, and about the Mongols, the Buddhist missionaries, the Great Wall, the long periods of peace and temple building. They studied the maxims of Confucius and the accounts of modern missionaries. For Charles and Lucy to hear these stories of the country that had given the world fire-crackers and silk, and was, moreover, the land of their dear little Sky-High, was like listening to the "Arabian Nights." The winter passed away quickly, delightful with their preparations for the great journey. "You said that you had lived with the mandarin of Manchuria, I think," remarked Mr. Van Buren to Sky-High one evening. "With _a_ mandarin in Manchuria, master," corrected Sky-High. "There are many mandarins in Manchuria. Manchuria is a large country." "Are there more people than in Boston?" asked Charlie. "I do not know how many there are in Boston--there are fifteen million in the province of Manchuria." "Did the mandarin live in great, wonderful, gorgeous splendor?" asked Lucy. Sky-High's eyes opened with a gleam. "His gifts are gold," he said. "His dragons have teeth of gold. The monoliths in his garden are one thousand, it may be two thousand years old. At the Feast of Lanterns he covers the sky over his palace with fire. You should see his gardens and the gables of his houses! It takes some minutes to speak his whole name." "I wish I could look upon a man like that!" said Charlie. "I hope we shall see that mandarin when we go to China." "That will be easy," said Sky-High. * * * * * The family sailed away from the Pacific coast in the spring. Mr. and Mrs. Van Buren really felt very glad to have such an intelligent servant as Sky-High for their visit to the Chinese provinces, even though they were to leave him behind at his home. When they arrived at Hong Kong there was a surprise. Some officials at the port appeared to recognize Sky-High, and brought to him an important-looking mail which he received with a sudden dignity. He also was paid attentions from notable Chinese people, such as servants would not seem likely to meet. Mr. Van Buren finally explained it to himself. He carried letters to many consuls and commercial houses. Sky-High was noticed because he was in his service. "In such countries," said Mr. Van Buren, "customs are different from ours." Certain high Chinamen in the hongs--the trade-houses--bowed low in a most respectful way to Sky-High, their manner very noticeable. Whenever Lucy and Charles accompanied him they were offered Chinese sweetmeats or novel toys of ivory and jade. "The people are very kind and polite to you," said Mr. Van Buren to Sky-High, one day. "You are fortunate to come back in our service. Our family has traded with China for three generations; I suppose we are known nearly everywhere." "I am fortunate, master," said the little Chinaman. They prepared to go on to Canton. Sky-High arranged the journey, and explained the details to Mr. Van Buren. He had an air of taking the family under his protection, and seemed to be wholly familiar with the way along the boat-lined waters. "We are to stop just before we reach the city," he said to Mr. Van Buren, "to meet a mandarin of Manchuria of the Crystal Sea. He is visiting at the summer palace of a grand mandarin of Canton. A barge will come out to meet us. There will be fireworks. I have arranged it all. Besides these two there will be also a mandarin from the Yellow River." "'Meet us! I have arranged it all!' What does our little house-boy mean?" thought Mr. Van Buren. He called Sky-High, and asked him to explain his strange words. "I have arranged it all," said Sky-High simply. "A barge will meet you, and take you to this summer palace. There will be fireworks for the sake of Charles and Lucy; the heavens will blaze. The mandarins have heard of your family. They wish to receive you and to please the children of the mandarin of Boston." Lucy danced at these hospitable words. She had treated little Sky-High like a wang. She had dreamed that he was a wang. Perhaps--well, little Lucy found it thrilling to feel that almost anything splendid might happen! But Mr. Van Buren had no idea that his family had become of importance to the grandees of China, although it was true that his father and grandfather had traded in the country and had extensive correspondence with the hongs. "Sky-High," said he, "you must be simply amusing yourself! A grand mandarin would not order fireworks for Charles and Lucy. What mandarin is he?" "Of the Crystal province. He has heard of you; he wishes to honor you as a noble American and the friend of his people." Mr. Van Buren wondered if his wife's little house-boy had gone insane. He spoke with impatience. "Let us not be fooling ourselves with this business any longer!" "I have never deceived you, master," said the little serving-man. "I am as the great George Washington in his youth. The mandarin of the province of the Crystal Sea holds you in high esteem, and he wishes to entertain the children." Mr. Van Buren inquired at the American consular office concerning this "Mandarin of the province of the Crystal Sea." The consul informed him, with a smile, that the mandarin in question was especially rich and powerful, that he took an interest in American manners and customs, and often entertained Americans who had been kind to his people in America as well as merchants who had dealt honorably with the Chinese. Still, Mr. Van Buren could not understand how a great and high-born mandarin should be in communication with his servant. Here little Lucy spoke up. "Papa, I _know_ it is all _so_! Our Sky-High has never told a lie. Even General George Washington would have liked him." XVI. IN THE LITTLE WANG'S LAND. The family set out for Canton under the direction of their little servant, whose heart seemed full of anticipation and delight. The boat stopped when some distance still from the city. A gilded barge with a dragon's head and silken curtains had come to meet them. Not far away they saw a landing, with boats and people. "You are to wait for me here," said little Sky-High, as he went aboard the barge. "I will return soon." Gongs sounded, banners waved, as the gilded boat made its way through the river craft. Mr. Van Buren could see a row of sedan chairs standing upon the landing, gorgeous in gilded frames and silk curtains, with bearers and servants in rich costumes. Presently, among these people they saw their little Sky-High approach a tall man, who seemed to be a master of ceremonies, when the gongs were again beaten. "Well, this is growing somewhat remarkable!" said Mr. Van Buren. "Yes, even if the boy is returning from America with Americans whose name is noted in the commerce of the country!" Sky-High returned; the family went aboard the cushioned boat, and at the landing were assisted into the sedans, and carried up the water-steps into a high garden, with pavilions, and then on to other gardens away from the river. Golden gables shone above the trees. The hedges were full of blooms and bees, and lovely birds went flashing by. The trees were hung with red lanterns that seemed as light as air; and there were dragon kites in the sky. It was like an ethereal paradise, even to the now silent Boston merchant. A vista opened, showing a house where guards in brilliant Chinese uniforms stood at the door. Then again gongs sounded. Three mandarins in robes of silk, their buttons of rank glittering in their caps, came down the wide pathway, as though to meet the visitors, before whose chairs little Sky-High walked. One of them, a stately man, nearly seven feet high, suddenly spread out his arms; whereupon Sky-High rushed forward, prostrated himself, and was almost wrapped from sight, as he was lifted in the immense sleeves of silk and gold. Mr. Van Buren was now truly filled with amazement. Little Sky-High's mistress was terrified. The children didn't know exactly what to think, sitting together in their sedan, only that they were glad to see the tall mandarin enfold their own dear Sky-High in his flowing silk robes! Little Lucy was half crying. "I believe, I do believe, that he _was_ a wang all the time!" she at last said to Charlie. The palace was wonderful. Strange lamps hung over them as they passed in. There were beautiful couches and chairs, with gilded arms and silken cushions. The walls were set with carvings and perforated work. Here hung bars of musical bells; there stood great jars and vases; everywhere were fantastic furnishings of silks and costly metals. Feathery green bamboos grew in dragon pots. In the corners stood grotesque figures in armor. The lamps in their golden lattices burst into soft flame. "Unaccountable!" said Mr. Van Buren to himself. "Sky-High would hardly be better welcomed were he the wang that Lucy dreamed him to be!" "Mandarin of Boston," said the tall Chinaman, with an obeisance the like of which was never made in western lands, "welcome to our country; you have been good, indeed, to this boy--the Light of my Eyes, the Heart of my Heart! Madam of this illustrious mandarin, never will I forget you, nor"--turning to the two half-frightened children--"nor you, my little Prince and Princess of the Golden Dome beyond the seas! All shall always be well for you all in our country!" The tall Chinaman spoke in "flowery English," easily; but the American family knew not what to say, nor how to answer, and they bowed in silence and Lucy said to herself, "The little wang knew what to do in my country, but I do not know what to do in his!" A little later Mrs. Van Buren, beckoning him to her side as though she were in her own house, said to Sky-High, in lowered tones, "Is this tall mandarin the mandarin in Manchuria that was your master before you came to America?" Little Sky-High bowed, with a sudden blink of his almond eyes. "Mistress," said he, "he was the mandarin who sent me to America, in care of the consul, that I might know of the American home-life. He wishes me to learn everything that will be of good to me and my country when I am a man"-- "Is he any kinsman of yours?" interrupted his mistress. "Yes, my noble madam." "Pray, what relation may he be to you?" Mrs. Van Buren asked, a strange sensation rushing over her. Lucy and Charles stood near, drinking in every word. "The prince is my father, mistress," answered little Sky-High. The two children, standing in the shelter of a carven screen, clapped their hands in the American fashion. Lucy cried out, though softly, "Oh, Sky-High, we are so glad, so glad! You _are_ a wang! You were a wang all the time!" "Even as you treated me, always, my little Lady of the Lotus!" answered Sky-High, bowing before the children and their mother in the manner of his gorgeous father. * * * * * That night there was a feast in the summer palace of the Canton mandarin in honor of the return of the little prince, and the visit of his great American friend, the mandarin of Boston. Over the tea of Dharma the mandarins related Chinese tales for the entertainment of the illustrious American. The little prince told the story of the German collier family who changed a haunting evil into a guardian angel. And the prince, his father, said, "That must be a true tale, for it is as it would be with men and spirits in China. The wisdom of Buddha is in the story." The next day, in the pavilion by the lake of the rosy nelumbiums, where she sat with her mother, and the wonderful Chinese ladies and children, little Lucy said to Sky-High. "I always treated you like a wang, didn't I?" "And we will treat you here as a viceroy would treat another viceroy's little girl," said Sky-High--whose real name was Ching--the Prince Ching. 
34909	----	Ancient Chinese Account of the Grand Canyon, or Course of the Colorado (Copyrighted, Brooklyn, 1913) By ALEXANDER M'ALLAN TEN SUNS IN THE SKY! The ancient Chinese records tell of a "Place of Ten Suns," where "Ten Suns rose and shone together" (see Appendix, note 1). Seven Suns were also seen shining together in the sky! and at night (if indeed we can call it "night") as many as seven moons! (What a haunt for lovers and poets!) Five Suns were also beheld (see note 2). What Liars those Chinese writers are! [Illustration: Figure 1. Spectacle of Five Suns.] Very good; but why not denounce all our own Arctic navigators as a pack of Liars? They all tell about more Suns than one! A picture of Five (see Figure 1) is furnished by a most eminent explorer (note 3). The dictionaries and cyclopedias of our careful publishers call the appearance of two or more suns (or moons) a =Parhelion=. The number of the multiplied "luminaries" never exceeds Ten (note 4). There actually is a "Place of Ten Suns." Ten Suns say the Ancients. Ten Suns say the Moderns. AMERICA SHAPED LIKE A TREE. The ancient Mexicans likened North America to a Tree--a stupendous =Mulberry Tree=--"planted in the land known to us today as South America" (n. 5). The Chinese geographers or mythologists teach that at a distance of 30,000 =le= (10,000 miles) to the east there is a land 10,000 =le= (over 3,000) miles in width. Now the land referred to must be North America, for, 10,000 miles east from southern China brings us to California; and we further find that North America, now reached, is 10,000 =le=, or over 3,000 miles in width, measuring from the Pacific to the Atlantic. The Chinese accounts further call our eastern realm a =Fu-Sang= (or Helpful =Mulberry=) land. A =Mulberry= land (3,000 miles wide) is =There=, say the Chinese. The =Mulberry= land (3,000 miles wide) is =Here=, say the Mexicans. Like the Mexicans, the Chinese sages declare that there is an enormous Tree--the =Fu= (or helpful) =Sang= Tree--in the eastern Mulberry land 3,000 miles wide. As just remarked, the Chinese call the enormous Eastern Tree a =Sang=, and the Mexicans call their enormous Tree a =Beb= (both terms standing for the =Mulberry=,--a fact to which no writer hitherto has directed, or called, attention.) Observe (see Figure 2) that at Tehauntepec (a little west of Yucatan) our continent narrows down to a width of 100 miles (or 300 Chinese =le=). The Mexicans say that North America is a Tree, and that it has a correspondingly enormous Trunk,--which at Tehauntepec measures 100 miles (or 300 Chinese =le=). Now the Chinese writers declare that the enormous Mulberry in the region east of the Flowery Kingdom has "a Trunk of 300 =le=" (or 100 miles.) What a prodigious dimension! (see note 6.) A Mulberry Tree, with a "Trunk of 300 =le=," is =There=, say the Chinese. A Mulberry Tree, with a Trunk of 300 =le=, is =Here=, say the Mexicans. Such a stupendous Tree ought to have enormous Branches to match the Trunk, and we are not surprised when informed that our monarch of the forest goes up--up--up even to the Place of the 10 Suns (in the Arctic zone.) The One true sun is, of course, high above the mountain ranges, or "Branches" of our Continental Mulberry. But the extra Nine are false or delusive and mere reflections of the true sun on fog or vapor. The Chinese account, truly enough, states that they bear =wu=, and this term stands for "blackness," "inky," or "dark" (Williams dict. p. 1058.) This identical term =wu= also stands for black or dark =fowls=, such as the raven, blackbird, and crow; and one Oriental scholar, dwelling indeed in Japan, assures us that each of the Nine Suns bears a =Crow=! We are seriously informed, that "all bear--literally cause to ride--a =Crow=" (note 7.) As well might it be asserted that because =wu= signifies "black," the Nine =Wu= borne by the Suns must be nine blacks or negroes! The supposition that Nine =Crows= are meant is absurd and contradicted by the luminaries themselves. Strange to say, the "luminaries" emit no radiance! The light that is in them is darkness, and they are fitting symbols for commentators--black, white, yellow, and green--who have written learnedly and positively on them without understanding a thing about them. Perhaps it might be well, apart from its inconvenience, when writing about any nation, place, or natural object, to ascertain the position and name of the =continent= in which the subject of study is situated. Of course we are not so unreasonable as to insist that we must really comprehend a matter before getting up to explain it to others, but the positions of continents dealt with ought, as a rule, to be clearly ascertained. In the present instance we have faithfully followed the ancient directions and groped our way into the presence of the Nine blind suns. Gazing at their beaming disks we perceive how the term wu (black or dark) applies to them. The =color= of Crows is there, but not the living birds themselves. It is the story of the Three Black Crows advanced another stage on its career of misrepresentation, and magnified Threefold. The Nine Suns have neither swallowed nor disgorged Nine Black Crows. But they are certainly open to the charge of having feasted too freely on diet no less dark and deceptive. They're the =color= of Crows, say the Ancients. They =bear= Nine Crows, say the Moderns. [Illustration: Figure 2. Our Continental American Tree.] The truth is that the false suns furnish neither heat nor light and really consist of dark (=wu=) vapor. The Nine are mere reflections of the low-declined, true sun on "surrounding" frozen haze or mist, in extremely cold weather. When this icy fog seems--merely seems, of course,--to touch and surround the true sun, the illusions known as false suns are apt to appear. They obey some optical code of laws or signals understood best perhaps by themselves, and will sometimes disappear in a moment like a flock of timid "sun birds" (or wild geese--see note 8.) Their design apparently is to cheer and escort their illustrious sire in his otherwise lonesome trip through a frozen, desolate zone. Some Chinese accounts call them "children"--"children of the sun," etc., etc. There is a reference to this frozen mist, in Verne's "Fur Country," reading as follows: "It is not a mist or fog,' he said to his companions, 'it is frost-rime,' a dense vapor which remains in a state of complete congelation. But whether a fog or a frozen mist, this phenomenon was none the less to be regretted for it rose a hundred feet at least above the level of the sea, and it was so opaque that the colonists could not see each other when only two or three paces apart."--Danvers' translation, p. 288. It should be remarked that the frozen haze which breeds the false suns is found only "at the bottom of," or "below," the mountain ranges or "branches" of our North American Mulberry Tree. The false suns speedily disappear from the view of the observer who climbs up out of the thick stratum of frozen fog or mist and ascends the nearest "Branch." Such observations are completely in accord with the ancient Chinese declaration that Nine of the suns are to be seen "below" (=hia=) or "at the bottom of" the Branches, and One "above" the Branches. The suns (see note 9) are not said to be "in the Branches." Nine are "below" (=hia=) and One "above" (=shang=); a remark as true today as it ever was. The "Morea" (about fifty miles long), in Greece, was so named because it was supposed to resemble the leaf of a =morus= or mulberry. And similarly North America was considered by Mexican and Chinese mythologists to exhibit some resemblance to a mulberry,--the Helpful Mulberry (or =Fu-Sang=). The one comparison is just as fanciful or reasonable as the other. Nor can it be denied that North America presents some likeness to a Tree,--towering aloft like the Tree of the Prophet Daniel, which was seen from the ends of the earth. Here Columbia lights up her Tree and welcomes the Neighbors with a smile. The Chinese note concerning the extra suns and moons, which frequently flit about and disappear, like so many sun-birds, connects them with the "Branches" of the Fu (or Fu-Sang) Tree of amazing proportions, which flourishes in the Region east of the Eastern Sea. The Fu-Sang land, 10,000 =le= (or 3,000 miles wide) is said to be 30,000 =le= (10,000 miles) to the east of China; and this indeed is the distance from Canton to California. A lesser distance (20,000 =le=, or 7,000 miles) lies between Northern China and the American Mulberry land due east. It is in America that we are directed to search for the surplus assemblage of suns. And do we not find both them and Fu-Sang? (See note 10.) In what respect is the Chinese account inaccurate thus far? We are informed that "in the water is a large tree having nine suns," etc. The Trunk of this prodigious Tree, which is more or less immersed in the Eastern Sea, furnishes the surprising dimension of "300 =le=." And rising above a Valley of Hot Springs (readily found in Nicaragua) the Tree proceeds upward and rears aloft its exalted Branches in the "Place of the Ten Suns." The vast mountain-system, with its tree-like "Trunk" and "Branches," on which the many suns and moons are seen to alight or gambol, is called the "Sun and Moon =shan=" (=shan= signifying "mountain or range") in both the Chinese text and the translation (see note 11.) It is identical with our continental stony Mulberry and constitutes the form of North America. Unfortunately our esteemed translator was utterly in the dark concerning the sense of the curious statements regarding the manifold suns and moons and even suggested that an explanation should be sought for in connection with the Philippine Islands. But the Tree, or range of the Sun and Moon, is plainly in North America. And here are the flocks of Suns roosting among the Branches. NOTICE OF OUR GRAND CANYON. According to the translation, a "Great Canyon" is to be seen in the "Great Eastern Waste" "Beyond the Eastern Sea." And this Great Canyon is placed in connection with the "Sun and Moon =shan=",--which possesses the Mulberry's Branches and exhibit of Suns already glanced at (note 12.) We read that a stream flows through this canyon, "producing a charming gulf." We are further informed that "the water accumulates and so forms a gulf." A river flowing through the "Great Canyon," swells or widens out, displays a broadening expanse of water and becomes a Gulf, a "Charming Gulf." Is not this the beautiful Gulf of California, which is a widening out or enlargement of a notable stream, the Colorado? Decidedly this mighty and famous river, whose "water accumulates and so forms a gulf," flows through a Canyon. Moreover, this Canyon is truly a "Great Canyon." It is the greatest and grandest on the planet. It is also found in the "Great Waste to the east of the Eastern Sea," which washes the coast of China. It is the Grand Canyon of the Colorado. The translation informs us (note 13) that this stream which flows into, or becomes a gulf has a "delightful spring." The Canyon "has a beautiful mountain, from which there flows a delightful spring, producing a charming gulf. The water accumulates and so forms a gulf." Such is the translation; but no Chinese term for "spring" appears in the text. The original states that it is a =kan shui= which runs through the Canyon, and this identical compound is translated "Sweet River" by our author on page 163 of his large and comprehensive work. =Kan= indeed signifies sweet, sweetness; delightsome, pleasant, happy, refreshing; and =Shui= stands for "water or river" (see Williams dict. pp. 310, 781.) It is therefore evident that a =kan shui= should be remarkable for the sweetness of its water and should start from a "delightful spring" of =sweet= water, in order to be pure and deserve its reputation. As a geographical fact, the Colorado flows out of the very fount which curiously enough, gives birth to the "Sweet Water." This stream becomes the Platte or Nebraska river, which joins the Missouri. And from the fount of the Sweet Water, exactly on the mountain divide, a head-stream of the Colorado bubbles out, enlarging into the affluent known as the "Green," the stream traverses the Grand Canyon and connects with the Gulf. (note 14.) It should have a spring of =kan shui= or =sweet water=; and we find that it comes sparkling down the mountains from a =Sweet Water= spring. The Sweet Water stream after traversing a Canyon, even a "Great Canyon" should connect with, or enlarge into, a gulf, described as "charming." Can the Gulf of California be regarded as charming? One explorer expresses himself as charmed and delighted with the scenery of the gulf. A sample passage in his report reads as follows: "The island and mountain peaks, whose outlines, as seen from the gulf, had been somewhat dimmed by a light haze, appeared surprisingly near and distinct in the limpid medium through which they were now viewed. The whole panorama became invested with new attractions, and it would be hard to say whether the dazzling radiance of the day or the sparkling clearness of the night was the more beautiful and brilliant. (note 15.) Truly a charming and beautiful Gulf is here. Although the translation does not draw attention to the fact, the term employed in the Chinese record to describe the course of the stream which passes through the Great Canyon, is =chu=. Now this word is employed to designate water which is "shooting over a ledge" (Williams' dict. p. 89), and its use is entirely appropriate in a description of the course of the water in the channel of the Colorado. The bed of the stream is exceedingly irregular and consists indeed of a succession of =ledges=--producing a series of rapids, falls, or cataracts. Were the water to disappear, the exposed bed of the Colorado, with its ascending series of steps, might be likened indeed with truth to a stairway for giants or gods. The falls caused by =ledges= (=chu=) are exceedingly numerous. One navigator's log contains many such entries as the following: "Still more rapids and falls today. In one, the Emma Dean [a boat] is caught in a whirlpool, and set spinning about (n. 16). One subdivision of the Grand Canyon is known as Cataract Canyon, and this section "in its 41 miles, has 75 rapids and cataracts, and 57 of these are crowded into 19 miles, with falls, in places, of 16 to 20 feet" (n. 17.) All accounts concur in representing the stream as remarkable for the fury and number of its falls. To ascend the Colorado is a sheer impossibility and even to descend the stream is an enterprise rarely indeed attempted or achieved. Only rafts or life-boats, backed by pluck and luck, stand a chance of getting through--in pieces. The mariners all wear life-belts and are just as often in the water as they are out of it. Evidently a River of =Ledges= is here. Surely the term =Chu= (or water shooting over =Ledges=) applies with peculiar force to the career of this "wildest of rivers"--the Colorado. THE COLORADO--BOTTOMLESS? Knowing quite well as we do, that our mighty river possesses a very substantial bottom composed of step-like ledges of rock, we learn with surprise that it is said to flow through a section described as =bottomless=! Is not such a statement or assertion absurd? But what did the ancient writer mean? What could he have meant? The translation states that, according to a poem, the =Tsang-shan-wu=, "in the east there is a stream flowing in a =bottomless= ravine. It is supposed to be this Canyon"--the "Great Canyon of the Region beyond the Eastern Sea." The Chinese term rendered "Canyon" is =Hoh=, which stands also for "a bed of a torrent, a deep gully or wady; a valley" (see Williams dict. p. 453.) Of course, a =Ta= (or "Great") =Hoh= ought to be a Great Canyon, or a remarkable deep gorge or valley containing the bed of a torrent. We have already been informed that a =Chu= (or river of ledges and falls) is in the =Ta Hoh=, or mighty gorge beyond the Eastern Sea. We also perceive that the title =Ta Hoh= applies properly to the mountain-hemmed course of our Colorado (which connects with Middle Park and runs to the Gulf.) Somewhere in this immense and peerless =Ta Hoh=--somewhere among the majestic mountains--somewhere along the bed of the Colorado (either inside or outside of Middle Park,) the investigator should find a section which is =bottomless=. The ancient account locates it there. Nor are we to look for it in any Philippine Island. We are restricted to the bed or banks of the Colorado which we have identified as the =Chu= or plunging river that rushes downward to the Gulf. Our leaping stream flows into and out of Grand Lake (within Middle Park.) Now this Lake (or enlargement of the bed of the Grand Colorado) "has a beach, and far out into the body of the water a sandy bottom" and "in the center, covering an area of nearly a =mile= square the Lake to all appearance is =bottomless=." We are further informed that "explorations of the edges of this great submarine cavern give the most positive evidences that it was once the crater of a great volcano" (note 18). "The Lake to all appearance is bottomless. The deepest soundings that could ever be made have failed to reach bottom. Hence it is concluded that it has =no bottom=." Turn these two words, "no bottom" into Chinese and we get =wu ti=,--the very terms employed in the Chinese account. No bottom, say the Ancients. No bottom, say the Moderns. The old account puts the unfathomable abyss in a =Kuh= (valley or ravine) and it is within a Valley--the Valley of Middle Park--that we actually find it. Moreover, this bottomless valley is "supposed" (or reported) to belong to the =Ta Hoh=--a title which would cover both Valley and Canyon. Indeed, Middle Park, with its enormous mountain-walls connects directly with the system of the Grand Canyon. Moreover, the one stream flows through both. And here it may be remarked that the =Chu= (or River of Ledges and Falls) is not terminated or swallowed up by the Bottomless abyss in =Kuh= (or Valley of Middle Park.) It flows on through the =Ta Hoh= and ultimately enlarges into a Gulf (the Gulf of California). The rocky floor of the =Kuh= (or Valley of Middle Park) evidently constitutes a support or bottom for an impetuous and important River of Ledges or rapids and yet, at the same time, is reported to be Bottomless. This seems contradictory. But reaching the precise locality referred to in the old account, modern scientists simply echo the declaration of the Ancients,--that this Valley or =Kuh=, traversed by a leaping, furious =Chu=, is unfathomable. Bottomless! say the Ancients. Bottomless! say the Moderns. It thus appears that a statement seemingly calculated at first sight to drown the ancient claim in a flood of derision, turns out on examination to be overwhelmingly powerful evidence in support of the validity of the old record. In no respect or degree is the ancient testimony contradicted or falsified by modern evidence. Take for instance the old assertion that the =shan= or mountain-range of the Great Canyon, is "beautiful." Nothing seems more natural than to conclude that such a laudatory term is grossly out of place and that the Mountain-range, with its Canyon and furious =Chu=, is a frightful, gloomy, dangerous, horrible, repulsive, bleak, and ugly mass of shattered and tottering heights. And, indeed, there is much truth in this view of the situation. Nevertheless, modern visitors unite in declaring that Beauty is a marked feature of the rocky heights that possess or direct the Colorado; and this is in agreement with the ancient account. One traveler says: "The roar of its waters was heard unceasingly, ... but its walls and cliffs, its peaks and crags, its amphitheatres and alcoves, tell a story of =beauty= and sublimity" (note 19). Another visitor, who was treated most disrespectfully by our =Chu=, has eyes only for its "beauty": "The Canyon grows more and more picturesque and =beautiful= the farther we proceed.... On many of the long stretches where the river can be seen for several miles, the picture is one of charming =beauty=.... As the clouds rose we were treated to scenes rare and =beautiful= in the extreme" (n. 20.) Again: "Cataract and Narrow Canyons are wonderful, Glen Canyon is =beautiful=, Marble Canyon is mighty; but it is left for the Grand Canyon, where the river has cut its way down through the sandstones, the marbles, and the granites of the Kaibab Mountains, to form those =beautiful= and awe-inspiring pictures that are seen from the bottom of the black granite gorge, where above us rise great wondrous mountains of bright red sandstone capped with cathedral domes and spires of white, with pinnacles and turrets, and towers, in such intricate forms and flaming colors that words fail to convey any idea of their =beauty= and sublimity." The translation informs us that the mighty gorge is the Canyon of =Kiang=, =Shang=, or Almighty God. And a modern visitor declares that "here Omnipotence stands revealed," and that here is "a glorious creation of God." (n. 21.) So impressed were the ancients with the beauty and grandeur of this region that they peopled it with the souls of illustrious sages, and declared that here was the Canyon of Almighty God. And those who enter it today, come reeling back from its portals,--declaring that no mortal can describe its glories, and that it is the Grand Canyon of Almighty God! Words fail one in the attempt to describe this glorious creation of God. The impression it leaves upon the mind is overpowering. One feels as though he had been admitted into the presence of the Genii of the plutonic regions, had penetrated to the very heart of the inner world of elemental creations." We need not wonder that the old account connects a revered ancestor with this glorious and celestial retreat in the Grand Canyon. He is called =Shao Hao=, and is furthur termed a =ju=, (or sucking child.) =Shao= signifies "little" or "a little," and =Hao= is formed of the signs for "sun" and "heaven." It is therefore evident that the =ju= or infant at the Canyon is (or was) a little sun child, or child of the sun. American rulers called themselves "Children of the Sun," and we should be careful not to confound our Arizona Prince with any Asiatic ruler. [The =Hao= or =Shao Hao= of supposed Chinese origin is represented by some different symbols: see Williams' dict. p. 172, columns 1 and 2.] The little Child of the Sun at the =Ta-Hoh= or Great Canyon should not be--must not be--confounded with any early Chinese sun-worshiper. We are to look =far to the east of China= for both the Canyon and the little Child of the Sun referred to in the account before us. We are informed that the country connected with the Great Canyon was called "=Shao Hao's= country" (or the land of the Sun-child) on account of the little Prince. He entered (=chi=) it, and this furnished the =reason= (or =chih=) for its title--Land of the Sun-child. The infant (or =ju=) is distinctly called a ruler (or =ti=.) Moreover, although he was little (=shao=) or but a =ju= (suckling); he was a supreme king (or =chwen suh=). (Note 22.) =Chwen= is formed by putting together the two words "only" and "head." And =suh= is a Chinese term composed of the two significant words "only" and "king" (see Williams' dict. pp. 117, 825, 1043.) Evidently the baby ruler (or =ju ti=) was regarded by his people, in this region remarkable for its mountains, as the only or supreme head--the =chwen suh=, as Chinese historians might forcibly phrase it--of the people ruled. [Because the infant was king and even the supreme king, it seems reasonable to suppose that his father was dead (and his mother alive) at the time when he was carried into the Great Canyon and duly suckled there.] We need not just here attempt to unravel his history. Enough to show that our Grand Canyon is positively and clearly referred to in Chinese literature. We may, however, note the fact that the royal infant (see translation) belonged to the =Kin Tien= or Golden Heaven family, and this title must be considered when the history of our Arizona Prince comes to be investigated. It should further be remarked that the respected translator has erred slightly in his supposition that the =Chwen Suh= (or Supreme Head) was "Shao =Hao's descendant=." The Chinese terms in the original are: =shao hao= (not =hao's=) =ju= (baby) =ti= (ruler) =chwen suh= (head king.) It was the =little sun child ruler and supreme king= who was at the Canyon. Particular attention should be paid to the fact, that, although regarded as a supreme ruler, the Prince is represented as being but a suckling (or =ju=) when in the neighborhood of the Great Canyon. Now, the translation states that this baby or supreme lord "of whom no further description is given, =left there his lute= and lyre. It says that =his lute= and lyre are in this canyon." MUSIC IN THE GRAND CANYON? It is absurd to imagine for a moment that a =sucking= infant could own, or could be really supposed to own, a =lute=. The Chinese text does not say that the musical instrument is "his." And yet, curiously enough, it does declare that the baby-prince left or abandoned (=k'i=) a Lute or Lyre in the Canyon. Why should such a matter be mentioned? Supposing that a fiddle was left behind, or a drum, or a rattle, why should the trivial fact be gravely recorded? If a Lute was left in the mighty chasm, its remains might be there still. But how could an infant be said to leave or abandon a Lute? Would he not try, so well as our memory serves, to first get it into his mouth? Would not his chubby hands, quite stout enough for destructive arts, tear the strings apart and feed the music to the nearest cat? Would it be a lute at all when ultimately relinquished? And if the babe derived pleasure from ill-treated and squalling strings, why should he leave the lute behind? As well say that the suckling abandoned there a fishing-rod! Would not a milk-bottle be a much readier fount of ecstacy than either a lute or a flute? Why, neither one nor the other =could be heard= within the Canyon. A Chinese commentator, however, relieves us from the necessity of seeking for a literal lute between the resounding jaws of the mighty chasm (note 23.) He says it is erroneous (=ngo=) to suppose that the baby emperor (=ju ti=) grasped (=ping=,) or left behind (=chi=) or abandoned in the place of midnight darkness (=huen=) any lutes or lyres (=kin seh=.) In hyperbolical language (=wu wu=)--which is never true when taken literally--a clear limpid river (=shuh=) would be the lute (=kin=.) But how could a clear stream serve as a lute? The running water might produce limpid notes. Thus Moore, in his ode on "Harmony," uses the following words: "Listen!--when the night-wind dies Down the still current, =like a harp= it sighs! A liquid =chord= in every wave that flows." Here is a current of water likened to the string of a harp, and the playing of winds compared to music. Mrs. Sigourney calls Niagara a "Trump," and we accept the assertion (although literally it is quite untrue.) But if the Chinese account placed a Trump in the Ontario chasm there would be considerable difficulty in finding it. Fortunately, in the case immediately before us, it is a Chinese author who tells us that we are to seek for limpid streams rather than for literal lutes or lyres. The mention of the latter would probably imply that the sounds of some stream or streams in the Great Canyon are of a remarkably soft and musical character. Streams may produce delightful tones. Thus one observer (at Yellowstone) tells of the "mysterious music of the distant falls" "like the tremulous vibration of a mighty but remote harp-string." (note 24) If falling water under certain peculiar acoustic circumstances can produce notes like those struck off from harp-strings, the tones can also be compared to those of lutes or lyres (for all are stringed instruments.) The very volume which places lutes and lyres in the Great Canyon, also tells of a forest elsewhere, which is a "Forest of Lutes and Lyres" (note 25.) Of course sounds merely resembling those of the stringed instruments, are here referred to. A forest is composed of trees rather than musical instruments, but it may produce musical tones like those of Lutes and Lyres. And similarly the notes arising from the Grand Canyon may be of a lute-like character. This is the teaching of the Ancients. We have found the Bottomless stream and it is certain that visitors should return with accounts of melody arising from the Canyon. Future explorers should listen for musical notes. They will certainly not be disappointed. One visitor says: "The waters waltz their way through the Canyon, making their own rippling, rushing, roaring music." We further read of innumerable cascades adding their wild music to the roar of the river." What are these innumerable cascades but the strings of the Lute which was heard ages ago by enraptured ears and which has kept on resounding ever since. The concert in the Canyon drowns even the basic roar of the river. The music is there. "We sit on some overhanging rocks, and enjoy the scene for a time, listening to the music of falling waters away up the canyons." (n. 26.) It appears that the acoustic properties of the Grand Canyon are calculated to produce most notable effects: "Great hollow domes are seen in the eastern side of the rock.... Our words are repeated with startling clearness, but in a soft mellow tone, that transforms them into magical music." Elsewhere an immense grotto "was doubtless made for an academy of =music= by its storm born architect; so we name it =Music= Temple." (n. 27.) Lutes and Lyres are there, say the Ancients. A Temple of Music is there, say the Moderns. It will be noticed that the Chinese annotater calls the Great Canyon--the =Ta Hoh=--a place of (=huen=) midnight darkness and declares that it is erroneous to suppose that the Lute played down there (where it could not possibly be heard) was an instrument held by a human hand (the hand of a suckling!). Now, although the great gorge is wonderfully beautiful, it must be conceded that its basic part (within which human beings might dwell) is decidedly dark. Here "it is necessary to 'lie down upon one's back in order to see the sky,'--as I once heard General Crook express it. Into much of this deep gorge no ray of sunshine ever falls, and it well deserves the name of the 'Dark Canyon.'" (n. 28). Often in midday, stars are seen shining overhead; and it may well be called a place of midnight darkness (=huen=.) In the following passage a modern visitor notices the "dark and frowning" walls of the chasm, but still enlarges on their beauty:--"One would think that after traveling through six hundred miles of those canyons, one would be satisfied with =beauty= and grandeur, but in this fact lies the charm. Of the six hundred miles no two miles are alike. The picture is ever changing from grandeur to beauty, from beauty to sublimity, from the =dark= and =frowning= greatness of its granite walls, to the dazzling colors of its upper cliffs. And I stood in the last few miles of the Grand Canyon spellbound in wonder and admiration, as firmly as I was fixed in the first few miles in surprise and astonishment." (note 29.) Nature has done her best to adorn the walls of the mighty gorge. We are told of "=thousands of rivulets=" that "dropped farther and farther down, till the whole of the bright scarlet walls seemed hung with a tapestry of silver threads, the border fringed with white fleecy clouds which hung to the tops of the walls, and through which the points of the upper cliffs shone as scarlet tassels." Nor was Dame Nature completely satisfied with her tapestry and fringe of tassels. Other embroidery was displayed. "As the sun broke through some side gorge, the canyon was spanned from side to side, as the clouds shifted their position, with rainbow after rainbow, vying to outdo in brilliancy of color the walls of the canyon themselves." The ancient account declares, that in "the Region beyond the Eastern Sea," a Bottomless river traverses a Great Canyon. And this stream, remarkable for its ledges (=chu=) or rapids and falls, rushes onward and downward, and grows or enlarges into a Gulf. And the Canyon, the River, and the Gulf are all reported to be =Kan=--or =Beautiful=. And visitors today return from all three, declaring that they are Beautiful! Beautiful!! Beautiful!!! And some are entranced by strains of music arising from the mouth of the Canyon and declare that it holds an "orchestra." In one place the thousands of streamlets, glistening and gleaming like silvery cords, stretch downward from the edge of the painted chasm; and the resounding, melodious precipice is called "the Cliff of the Harp." (note 30.) What is this but an echo of the ancient declaration that the royal Lute in the Canyon was merely a musical stream. Similar ideas have occurred to poets. Coleridge in his "Ancient Mariner," tells of "A noise like of a hidden brook In the leafy month of June, Which to the sleeping woods all night Singeth a quiet tune." And Moore has heard the notes of harp-strings sounding forth from melodious streams. What wonder, then, that ancient poets (and the translation states that the particular work which makes mention of the "Bottomless =Kuh=" or valley, is a "poem") should have likened a collection of falling streams or cascades to the chords of a tuneful Lute and then, to distinguish it from others less excellent, have applied to the stringed instrument the name of their Prince. Americans today gravely talk of visiting or seeing "St. Luke's Head" (in California!) And we possess a mere natural formation which is supposed to resemble a nose and is religiously called "St. Anthony's Nose." In truth this "nose" is no more a literal nose than the "Lute" in the Canyon is a literal stringed instrument made by men. Then we have "Cleopatra's Bath" and "Pompey's Pillar." (Next tell us in the interest of chaos and confusion that Pompey left here "his" Pillar.) In the grand caves at Pikes Peak there is an "organ," which is really no organ at all. It is a natural formation or production from which charming melodies are fetched by skilled musicians. Now if we ourselves can gravely call a musical, highly-strung rock an "Organ," may not the Ancients be excused for calling a combination of musical streams a Lute? Contemplating the "Cliff of the Harp," we can readily understand how old-time visitors found down there the tuneful string of a "Lute" and how an imperial Child of the Sun was unable to lug along "his" notable musical toy. There it remains and melodious notes still come floating up. Lutes and Lyres are there, say the Ancients. "An Academy of Music!" say the Moderns. The Chinese annotater remarks that the =lieh tsze= (a class of sages or teachers--the literati) are unacquainted (=pu chi=) with the =sheu-hai= or Gulf situated toward the east (=chi tung=.) The Chinese scholars of the writer's time knew little or nothing of our Gulf of California (or =Sheu-hai=). However, it was known to some; and we are now informed that it is =ki= (a =few=; nearly about, approximately) =yih= (to =guess=, to bet; 100,000; an indeterminate number) =wan= (10,000) =le=. A single =wan le= should measure about 3,000 miles, and a =few= (to "guess") separate China from the =Ta-Hoh= which connects with the Bottomless =kuh= or valley ("=Ta-Hoh shih wei wu ti chi kuh=.) Evidently the Great Canyon lies more than =one wan le= (3,000 miles) to the east of China. We find indeed that the number may well be referred to as "a few" (=ki=.) Nor can the Gulf be =more= than about 30,000 =le= to the east, seeing that this Gulf of California is in "the region beyond the Eastern Sea" along with the =Fu-Tree= which has a trunk of 300 =le=. The Gulf to the east is connected with the mountain system whose Branches exhibit the gorgeous spectacle of Ten Suns. In short, the Gulf and Canyon are along with =Fu-Sang=; and =Fu-Sang= is only 30,000 =le= to the east of China, and merely 10,000 wide. Accordingly, the Gulf is but "a few" =wan le= to the east of the Flowery Kingdom. To look for the Canyon and Tree within the Philippine Islands, contiguous to China, is simply impossible. The islands have been pretty well thrashed over lately, and no one has met with the Tree! It has a "Trunk of 300 le," and collectors of curios or strange plants should keep wide awake and see that they don't pass it in the dark. And yet with its Ten Moons, how miss it? How fail to notice our glittering, gleaming, glorious candelabrum? It couldn't have fallen or drifted over to the Panama ditch? It can't possibly be now stuck in any South American Flower-pot? Catching the Tree seems to be as slippery as catching Tartars, and perhaps when the first is found, the others won't be very far off. The Chinese commentator, of course, never saw either the Gulf or Canyon but he quotes from earlier writers who were well acquainted with our "region beyond the Eastern Sea;" and one of these named =Chwangtsze=, is quoted to the effect that in the =Ta Hoh= or Great Canyon =high winds= (=yuen fung=) occur (=yu=) or come unexpectedly upon one. Do storms arise suddenly in the neighborhood of the mighty chasm? One modern explorer says: "I go up to explore the alcove. While away a whirlwind comes scattering the camp fire among the dead willows and cedar spray and soon there is a conflagration, the men rushing for the boats, leaving all they cannot readily seize at the moment, and even then they have their clothing burned and hair singed." (note 31.) Storms occur in all parts of the world. Is there anything peculiar about the tempests which are said to suddenly arise in the Great Canyon? One visitor says: "Storms were not infrequent and these occurring where the canyon walls were a mile high and close together produced an effect that was almost supernatural in its awfulness. The deep thunder echoed sharply between the cliffs, producing a roaring sound that was almost deafening." (note 32.) It should be remembered that the vast caverns here multiply the bellowings of thunder and also help to confine and intensify the raging and imprisoned whirlwinds. One eye or ear witness tells of a storm both seen and heard within the Canyon and adds: "I have seen the lightning play and heard the thunder roll among the summit peaks of the Rocky Mountains, as I have stood on some rocky point far above the clouds, but =nowhere= has the awful grandeur equalled that night in the lonesome depths of what was to us death's canyon.... Again all was shut in by darkness thicker than that of Egypt. The stillness was only broken by the roar of the river as it rushed along beneath me. Suddenly as if the mighty cliffs were rolling down against each other, there was peal after peal of thunder striking against the marble cliffs below, and mingling with their echoes, bounding from cliff to cliff. Thunder with echo, echo with thunder, crossed and recrossed from wall to wall of the canyon," etc. (note 33.) Surely sudden and dreadful storms rage here. The loudest in North America, says an expert. Observe that the visitor just quoted notices the "roar of the river" in connection with the fury of the tempest. Now, the ancient visitor does the same. After directing attention to the sudden high winds, he says that a decidedly curious sight or spectacle (=king shun=) is the =keang= (a large main stream which receives tributaries) spreading abroad (=fu=) the =noise= of flowing water (=tsung=) in the =Ta-Hoh= or Great Canyon. The noise of the great river or =Keang= is thus noticed by the ancient visitor, who also declares that the =Ta-Hoh= or Great Canyon constitutes a decidedly fine or curious sight. And such in truth it actually is. "Imagine a chasm that at times is less than a quarter of a mile wide and more than a mile deep, the bed of which is a tossing, =roaring=, madly impetuous flood.... What an imposing spectacle; what a sublime vision of mightiness!" (n. 34). A great sight! say the Ancients. A Wonder of the World! say the Moderns. The roar of the river has never ceased since the ancient scribe, or his informant, passed that way. A modern visitor says: "The threatening =roar= of the water is loud and constant." Again, "The =roar= of its waters was heard unceasingly from the hour we entered it until the time we landed here. No quiet in all that time." (n. 35). One navigator tells of a "bore" in connection with the resounding stream. "In the stillness of the night, the roaring of the huge mass could be heard reverberating among the windings of the river.... This singular phenomenon of the 'bore,' as it is called, is met with but at few places in the world.... In the course of four or five hours the river falls about thirty feet" (n. 36.) Another explorer pauses at one spot in his amphibious career to note that "high water mark" can be seen "fifty, sixty, or a hundred feet above its present stage;" and "when a storm bursts over the canyon, a side gulch is dangerous, for a sudden flood may come and the inpouring waters will raise the river, so as to hide the rocks before your eyes" (n. 37). Another navigator, who never was without a life-belt,--which he found of vital use when righting his too often overturned ark,--tells with amazement of "the waves, torrents, and cataracts of this wildest of rivers." A ceaseless basic roar is there,--deadened at times by floods of music, yet nevertheless eternally there. The sea connected with the Great Canyon is elsewhere called a =Puh hai= (the latter term signifying "sea.") A =Puh hai= is said to be a "Gulf," and we find a Gulf--the Gulf of California--at the mouth of the Colorado. It should, however, be observed that the term =Puh= by itself stands for "an arm of the sea." A =Puh hai= is a Gulf which forms "an arm of the sea." The Gulf or sea should be shaped like an =arm=--an arm of the ocean (see Williams' dict. p. 718.) Now, a glance at the map shows that in a very peculiar sense the Gulf of California is a =hai= or "sea" which meets the requirements of being shaped like an =arm=. It is a sea and a gulf and at the same time "an arm" of the ocean. Truly it is a =Puh hai=. A great many "gulfs" are quite unlike "arms," being too broad to admit of such a comparison. But our Gulf of California is comparatively narrow and is truly an "arm" of the sea. And notice how the water of the river--our Colorado--"accumulates and so forms a gulf." Such are the words of the existing translation and they apply completely to the American situation. Here we find the water of the Colorado accumulating or widening out until it becomes a great body of water--a Gulf. Indeed this development or process of expansion is so gradual that it is impossible for navigators to tell where the river ends or the gulf begins. In the Chinese comment immediately before us, however, the =hai= or sea to the Canyon's river mouth is called a =Sheu=. Now this term signifies "to rinse the mouth, to scour; to wash out a thing; to purify." (Williams, p. 757.) The word =Sheu= is written by combining the characters for "water" and "to suck in." It is evident that our Gulf of California is "an arm of the sea" and no less a =Sheu=. A "mouth" it undoubtedly has, and this mouth is being ceaselessly "washed," "scoured," and "purified." Even a dentist would be satisfied! The immense stream rushes out, and tides from the Pacific rush in. Moreover the Colorado "sucks in" the tidal wave known as the Bore. Surely we have here the Eastern Gulf sea which is both a =Puh= and a =Sheu=. The water of the noisy, restless, purifying stream within the =Ta-Hoh= was it is said,-- 1. =Yu= (which means "used or employed.") 2. =Wuh= (to water or irrigate; to soften with water; to enrich.) 3. =Tsiao= (scorched, burned, singed, dried up.) 4. =Chi= (referring to or denoting.) 5. =Tsze= (here or this.) Evidently the water of the Colorado was used to =irrigate= some ground or vegetation which was dried up or =scorched=. Such a remark implies a high temperature (during the period of growth) between the walls of the chasm, and also leads us to look for some soil--some scorched or dried up soil (sadly in need of irrigation)--between the jaws of the Canyon. Is there parched or desert soil on the banks of the Colorado? Here is the answer: "The region through which the chafing waters of the Colorado run is forbidding in the extreme, a vast =Sahara= of waste and inutility; a desert too dreary for either vegetable or animal life; a land that is =haunted with wind-storm=, on which ride the furies of desolation.... The earth is =parched to sterility=.... It is like the moon, a =parched= district, save for the single stream which, instead of supplying sustenance, is eating its vitals." (note 38.) Another traveler visited Fort Yuma, on the Colorado, and says: "The ride to the fort was through a flat and desolate looking country.... It was a dreary eight hours ride." Other remarks are made concerning "the barrenness of the surrounding region and" "the =intense heat= of its summer climate." (note 39.) In some spots, however, water produces magical effects. In the Mojave valley, for instance, "the annual overflow of the river enables the Mojaves, to raise with little labor, an abundant supply of provisions for the year.... During one season, a few years since, the Colorado did not overflow its banks; there were consequently no crops and great numbers of the Mojaves perished from starvation." (note 40.) Curiously enough, although rain fell furiously within the Canyon, it was observed by a traveler that "such rain-storms were invariably confined to the immediate vicinity of the Canyon, the territory lying two or three miles east or west continuing parched with hardly a cloud above it." And the explorer wonders how some ancient inhabitants, whose buildings are now in ruins, "managed to exist, situated as they were in a desolate country, where there was great scarcity of both vegetable and animal life." The ancient Chinese account connects a baby king, a supreme ruler, with the Great Canyon and now states that water was used within the gorge to irrigate the soil, which is represented as being dried up or scorched. Is the Canyon remarkable for its heat? Surely it ought to be cool down there? One visitor says: "That Canyon was the sultriest place I have ever struck, and my experience includes some of the hottest sections this side of the equator. The oppressive heat in the chasm was felt at a "point fifty times as deep as the great chasm at Niagara." (note 41.) "But despite the terrible heat, despite the discomfort of the situation, I was compelled to wonder and admire, For,"-- The =Ta-Hoh= should constitute a magnificent sight, but it is also said to contain some =scorched= or dried up soil. Is such to be seen? An explorer reached the Colorado at a point where it is 266 yards wide, and adds that the "soil" "bore nothing but dry weeds and bushes and the whole scene presented the most perfect picture of desolation I have ever beheld, as if some =sirocco= had passed over the land, =withering= and =scorching everything=." (note 42.) Withered and scorched! say the Ancients. Withered and scorched! say the Moderns. In one favored spot, "to the limit of vision, the tortuous course of the river (the Colorado) could be traced through a belt of alluvial land varying from one to six miles in width, and garnished with inviting meadows, with broad groves of willow and mezquite and promising fields of grain." The visitor remarks that the valley appears most attractive in the spring--"at this season of the year before the =burning heat= has =withered= the freshness and beauty of the early vegetation." (note 43.) We are informed that the valley south of the Bend of the Colorado near the "Needles," there is in the spring a "most brilliant array" of flowers; but, "after the ephemeral influence of the few spring showers has passed, the annual plants are soon =burned= up by the sun's heat and perfect sterility prevails throughout the remainder of the season." (note 44.) It is sufficiently apparent that the soil when properly watered can produce abundant vegetation and sufficient nourishment for, of course, limited numbers of human beings. Deprived of water, the soil is unable to sustain desirable plants, and presents a sterile aspect. Surveying its present condition or appearance of barrenness, a modern visitor wonders how the ancient inhabitants contrived to exist, or find food, within the withered, unfruitful chasm. But one of the ancients, Mr. Chwang Tsze, writing about this very =Ta-Hoh= or Great Chasm, says that they used water to irrigate the otherwise scorched or dried up soil. Then, if such a somewhat belated answer is true, the question arises, where are the proofs? A chief of the Ethnological Bureau very properly furnishes the answer. Standing in the abyss of the =Ta-Hoh=, on the bank of the roaring river, he beholds some ancient buildings and perceives how their vanished occupants formerly contrived to subsist. He says: "We can see where the ancient people who lived here--a race more highly civilized than the present--had made a =garden=, and =used= a great spring" [or feeder of the Colorado], "that comes out of the rocks for =irrigation=," etc. (n. 45.) We irrigated the soil, say the Ancients. They irrigated the soil, say the Moderns. Next comes the statement of some trusted early sage or scholar who was certainly acquainted with our =Ta-Hoh= (containing the ruin and irrigated soil just noticed.) It is an observer or scribe named =Tu-tsan=, who says:-- 10. =Seay= (to paint, to draw, to sketch.) 11. =yih= (to spread abroad, to diffuse.) 12. =tung= (a gorge, ravine, canyon, a cave, a grotto.) 13. =hueh= ("a hole in the earth or side of a hill,--they are used for dwellings;" a den, a grotto, a cavern.) Something called =seay= is here said to be spread abroad, or diffused over rocky walls or caves. Williams (p. 796) says that =seay= (or =sie= as it is also spelled) stands for a sketch or design, and adds that it means to draw, to compose, to write. Morrison, in his dictionary, says that =seay= signifies "to paint," etc. Of course there is no use looking for anything so absurd as pictured or painted rocky walls or caves; and we accordingly feel disappointed when the ancient text seems to notice such. The pictures or paint should be "spread abroad" freely or lavishly in the vicinity of caverns, and we know positively that no "paint" or pigment of human composition can be seen on the canyon walls. No artificial pictures are there, and we are compelled to admit that the ancient account here stands falsified. We have, however, found the caves. Music Temple, for instance measures two hundred feet from floor to roof, and is "a vast chamber carved out of the rock." There are caverns in all directions. And the noisy, roaring river is certainly there as well. One explorer says: "Imagine a chasm that at times is less than a quarter of a mile wide and more than a mile deep, the bed of which is a tossing, roaring, madly impetuous flood, winding its way in a sinuous course along =walls= that are =painted= with all the pigments known to nature. What an imposing spectacle!" (n. 46.) Of course we must object that the "walls" are really not walls and that the "paint" so lavishly spread upon them is not paint at all. The ancient assertion is delusive, but equally so is the modern. Just compare them. The Virgin River enters the Colorado, and at the place of junction are the "resplendently =painted= temples and towers of the Virgin. Here the slopes, the serpentine ledges, and the bosses of projecting rock, interlarded with scanty soil, display all the colors of the rainbow, and in the distance may be likened to the =painter's pallete=. The bolder tints are of maroon, purple, chocolate, magenta, and lavendar, with broad bands of white laid in horizontal belts. (n. 47.) Is this so-called "paint" =lavishly= "spread abroad"? Certainly; one section of the mighty and wondrous gorge is known as "the =painted= canyon." Of course the chasm is not really "painted" by artists or human agents, and we need not look for painted cliffs anywhere. Nevertheless modern observers echo the language of the ancients, and we are told today of "the =painting= of the rocks" and of "deep, =painted= alcoves" and "=painted= grottos" (n. 48.) The term =yih= (see Williams' dict. pp. 781, 1092) is composed of the characters for "fluid" and "vessel," and signifies "A vessel full to the brim; ready to overflow, to run over; abundant; to spread abroad, to diffuse." As =seay=, the word which precedes =yih= in our Chinese note, signifies "to paint," we perceive how the additional term =yih= teaches that the =paint= made use of has been applied to extensive surfaces, so that it presents the appearance of having "overflowed" or "run over" the rocky walls and caverns dealt with. Of course neither writing nor literal pictures could overflow or drench--and adhere to--walls or cliffs. But =seay yih= might cover the motion of applying =paint= in a most lavish, copious, overflowing manner. Here are cliffs so "rich with parti-coloring as to justify the most extravagant language in describing them." It looks as though the gnomes on the job, in the Canyon, just emptied their paint-pots down dizzy cliffs and then went back for more. And such extravagance is in harmony with the symbols which stand for painting and vessels and spreading abroad or overflowing! Mineral paints were freely used and sometimes apparently with considerable care and skill. Thus we read of a red sandstone cliff "unbroken by cracks or crevices or ledges" exhibiting "extensive flat surfaces beautifully =stained= by iron, till one could imagine all manner of tapestry effects." Here are painted imitations of tapestry. It should further be remembered that there are actual picture writings spread abroad on extensive painted or stained surfaces. The author just quoted beheld ancient dwellings which "exhibited considerable skill on the part of the builders, the corners being plumb and square." And just here "there were also numerous picture writings." (note 49.) An amazed visitor exclaims: "Grand, glorious, sublime, are the Pictorial cliffs of vermillion hue!" "Pictorial" answers to =seay= (the 10th character in our list.) Pictured and painted! say the Ancients. Pictured and painted! say the Moderns. We have seen that our Gulf (of California) has been called a =Puh-hai=, or "arm of the sea." Professor Hoith, the celebrated student of Chinese, in his work on "Chinese History" (p. 49, footnote) says that a =puh hai= is "an estuary." Webster says that an "estuary" is "an arm of the sea; a firth; a narrow passage, or the mouth of a river or lake, where the tide meets the current, or flows and ebbs." Plainly our Gulf of California is a =Puh hai= or Estuary. It may further be remarked that =Puh= is written in Chinese by putting together two characters, one standing for "water," and the other signifying "Suddenly; hastily; flurried, disconcerted, as when caught doing wrong; to change color, confused" (Williams' dict. p. 718.) It is superfluous to say that our Gulf or Estuary is a very "confused" or "flurried" body of water. It is truly a =Puh-hai=. Moreover, it "changes color." As though "caught doing wrong," it changes color and blushes at times a rosy red. This is the hue of multidunious veins: "A thousand streams rolling down the cliffs on every side, carry with them red sand; and these all unite in the canyon below, in one great stream of red mud" (n. 50.) But sometimes the color below Yuma is yellow or black (n. 51.) The name "Colorado" is a Spanish term conveying the idea of redness, and undoubtedly this hue predominates throughout the course of the boisterous stream; but other colors due to the dye or wash of variously painted cliffs, are also met with. Moreover a section may exhibit one color to-day and something different to-morrow. And so it is with the gulf, which receives the Colorado, and on which floating patches of color are frequently seen. Truly our Gulf or Estuary is remarkable for both its coloring, blue, red, etc., and its changes of color. In all respects it is plainly a =Puh-hai=. Our Gulf or Estuary is also called a =yuen=. Farther on (see Chinese version) we read that the Canyon river produces or grows into (=shang=) a beautiful (=kan=) =yuen=. This term =yuen= stands for a "gulf, an abyss; an eddy, a whirlpool or place where the back water seems to stop." A whirling, violent, or impetuous body of water is evidently referred to. Fernando Alarchon, in 1540, found the Colorado "a very mighty river, which ran with so great a fury of stream that we could hardly sail against it. One voyager tells how his ark, the "Emma" was "caught in a =whirlpool=, and set spinning about." Here is a =yuen=. Again, "The men in the boats above see our trouble but they are caught in whirlpools, and are spinning about in eddies." What have we here but =Yuen=--multiplied whirlpools? Through "Whirlpool Canyon" and all the way to the Gulf, the waters dance around and about. We read of "dancing eddies or whirlpools." There are more than 600 rapids and falls in the Colorado (n. 52.) The waters =waltz= their way and even furnish their own "rippling, rushing, roaring music." And we are in addition told of "innumerable cascades adding their wild music" (n. 53). Surely the entire inlet traversed by the bore or reached by ocean tides is in precisely the condition of commotion which may well be designated by the term yuen. We are informed that the =kan= (or beautiful) =yuen= approaches (=tsih=) with vapor (=hi hwo=) and bathes (=yuh=) the sun's place (=ji chi su=). It is evident that the mighty stream which traverses the Great Canyon in the region beyond the Eastern Sea, should flow from a Bottomless valley to a Gulf, and reach to the Sun's Place. And we find that the current of the Colorado extends to the Tropical line of Cancer, which crosses and marks the mouth of the Gulf of California. Vapor or fog is noticed in connection with the beautiful (even if restless or reeling) =Yuen=. Are fogs a noticeable feature along the coast of California? If so, they might hide the entrance or mouth of the Gulf. One visitor says: "Westward toward the setting sun and the sea," was a "filmy fog creeping landward, swallowing one by one the distant hills." Again, we read of "hilltops that thrust their heads through the slowly vanishing vapor." Here "you may bask in the sunshine of gardens of almost tropic luxuriance or shudder in =fogs that shroud the coast=" (n. 54.) We need not wonder that such vapors should appear within the confines of the charming Gulf of California and at times veil its shores. A recent visitor says: "The island and mountain peaks, whose outlines are seen from the Gulf, had been somewhat =dimmed= by a light =haze=, appeared surprisingly near and distinct in the limpid medium through which they were now viewed. The whole panorama became invested with new attractions, and it would be hard to say whether the dazzling radiance of the day or the sparkling clearness of the night was the more =beautiful= and brilliant" (n. 55). Hazy and Beautiful, say the Ancients. Hazy and Beautiful, say the Moderns. The haze is not dense enough to blind our eyes to the manifest fact that those people of old who were acquainted with the position of our Gulf of California, must also have been acquainted with Mexico and its inhabitants. Tropical America was considered by its people to be particularly under the influence of the Sun. Uxmal was in "the Land of the Sun" (n. 56), and the Mexicans called themselves "Children of the Sun." CAVE DWELLINGS IN THE GRAND CANYON. It will be noticed that the 13th term in our list is =hueh=, which stands for cave habitation. Are such to be seen in our Canyon? Numerous =tung= (see 12th term,) in the shape of caves or holes are undoubtedly there, but in addition the old account notices =hueh=. Have such been found? One explorer says: "Even more remarkable than the stupendous walls which confine the Colorado river, are the ruined cave habitations which are to be seen along the lofty and inaccessible ledges, in which a vanished race long years ago evidently sought refuge from their enemies.... They were reached by very narrow, precipitous, and devious paths, and being extremely difficult to attain by the occupants themselves, presented an impregnable front to invaders" (n. 57.) Explorers decending into the =ta-hoh= come forth to-day with accounts of gardens and irrigating streams, pictured cliffs, and cave dwellings,--in complete agreement with the ancient record. Following the term =hueh= we find a 14th, called =han=, which stands for dry, heated air; too dry; parched as by drought; crisp. Is there =han=, or dry heated air down in the Canyon? One visitor entered the Grand Canyon "in the morning while darkness yet covered the scene, but even then it was oppressively hot, and as the sun got higher I felt as though I had been thrust into a dutch =oven= and the mouth stopped up.... But, despite the terrible heat ... I was compelled to wonder and admire ... the gorgeous cliffs and rock walls showing all those varied colorings," etc. (n. 58). It was the "terrible heat" which compelled the Ancients to resort to irrigation in order to raise some food for themselves and little ones. Destitute of water, the soil is scorched and barren. It is said that "there are about 700 square miles of arable land between the mouth of the Gila and the 35th parallel of N. latitude," along the Colorado. And "in the valley" of this stream, where it is joined by the Gila, "are traces of ancient irrigating canals, which show that it has once been cultivated." And along the connected Gila are irrigating works of remarkable construction and undoubted antiquity--antedating the arrival of the Spaniards by centuries. Where the soil is actually irrigated or cultivated the response of nature is most gratifying and encouraging. We learn with regard to the Colorado valley, that "portions are cultivated by the numerous tribes of Indians who live along its banks, affording them an abundance of wheat, maize, beans, melons, squashes," etc. (n. 59). Such ground would be well worthy of attention; but the attitude of "the numerous tribes of Indians" along the Colorado might interfere with the plans of newcomers and even compel the latter to live in caves or on ledges easily defended. And it is certain that soil insufficiently watered presents a distressingly sterile aspect in the neighborhood of the Colorado. One traveler, already quoted, says with regard to a wide section, that "the whole scene presented the most perfect picture of desolation I have ever beheld, as if some Sirocco had passed over the land, =withering= and =scorching= everything to crispness" (n. 60.) Notice this word "crispness" used by our author. Turned into Chinese it becomes =han= (crisp)--the very term applied in the ancient record to the condition of the soil unwatered within the Canyon. It is curious how the old and new visitors agree in their descriptions of the interior of the mighty gorge, where vegetation is withered or dead. Scorched and Crisp! say the Ancients. Scorched and Crisp! say the Moderns. The Canyon should be hot, and one of our own visitors says: "The sun shone directly up the Canyon, and the glare =reflected from the walls= made the heat intolerable (n. 61.) The word =han= has, unfortunately enough, a perfect right to appear in the old record. Following it we find additional terms: 15. A compound character consisting of the signs for "Sun" (=Jih=) and "People" (=Min=.) 16. =lung= ("used for =nagas= or snake gods;" "a dragon," "imperial." "It is often used for a man.") 17. =chuh= ("the illumination of torches; a candle; a light; to give or shed light upon, to illumine") The statement seems to teach that the Sun People--the men--were using torches to illumine the depth of the hot Canyon. We have already been informed that a =ju= or suckling, who was yet a supreme King (like perhaps the last Chinese Emperor of the Manchu dynasty, in 1912 A. D.) and a Child of the Sun, was down in the abyss, so we are prepared to hear that his subjects--some Sun people--were down there too. Of course, for the greater part of the twenty-four hours, the darkness, particularly in the cave dwellings should be most intense. One visitor, quoted already, tells of "darkness thicker than that of Egypt." Such gloom should be particularly and painfully felt by "Sun People," and we are not surprised to find that they made use of torches or artificial lights. Singularly enough, the chasm, as though remorsefully conscious of the blackness of its character, produces no end of dried-up vegetable stems or stalks fit to be ignited and used as firebrands. These it places convenient to your hand, as though to invite inspection. Indians today are in the habit of using such torches. We are informed that "the custom still prevails among them of carrying a firebrand," which was noticed by Spanish explorers in the 16th Century, "and induced those discoverers to give to the river the name of Rio del Tizon" (n. 62). It will be noticed that the ancient Chinese account connects lights, or "an illumination of Torches" (=chuh=), with the very stream which the Spaniards of a later age, and of their own accord christened the Rio del Tizon. A Torch-lighted stream, say the Chinese. A Torch-lighted stream, say the Spaniards. The author or explorer last quoted says with reference to Indians dwelling on the banks of the Colorado, that "the custom still prevails among them of carrying a firebrand in the hand in cold weather," which was noticed by the Spaniards. Of course the flaming brands may well be used in winter to warm those who hold them, but the Ancients who inhabited the cave or cliff houses (which they built and which are now more or less in ruin, according to exposure or original inherent strength) might have used the =chuh= or torches as =lights=. These torches are mentioned in connection with excessive =heat=, and it would be absurd to suppose that the Sun People of old desired a still higher temperature. But mention is made of cave dwellings, and such are actually there; and we can readily understand why the ancient dwellers in the cave houses should have frequently used the ready-to-hand torches when climbing to their dark and break-neck abodes. Even today the =chuh= or torches are used as =lights=. The withered stalks or stems, so abundant in the Canyon, are a melancholy illustration of the scorching power of the sun within the chasm. We have not forgotten the fact that the Chinese term =han= is used in the ancient text and that it stands for the "crispness" of scorched or dried up plants. An actual visit to the =Ta-Hoh= or Great Canyon referred to, shows that it is this =han=--or withered, scorched and crisp--vegetation which provides no end of torches (=chuh=) for dwellers in the vicinity. One stumbling visitor uses the following language: "We struck for it ... through the thick night, the guide occasionally lighting a =torch of grass=" (n. 63). Unable to directly or steadily illumine the angles or recesses of the Canyon, the bright and clear-headed sun does the next best thing and raises a bounteous harvest of firebrands. Nature here concentrates her attention on the task of serving the necks (rather than the bellies) of her children, and presents them with a crop of seasoned and brilliant torches. Certain it is that most efficient firebrands are raised here in profusion and constitute such a unique feature of the stream that in order to distinguish it from others in the region, the Spaniards called our river the Rio del Tizon. Torches have lighted the Canyon in the past and they now throw light on the ancient record. Mentioned in connection with withered vegetation and intense heat, the natural inference is that the torches were used to =light= the steps of dwellers in the Canyon. Of course they might in winter have been used, like other vegetable produce, as fuel, but the old record now before us does actually connect the =chuh= or torches with a high scorching temperature; and our impression or deduction is that they were used as lights amid the blackness of the chasm. And the Torches (=chuh=) are used as lights still. One explorer says: "We fear that we shall have to stay here clinging to the rocks until daylight. Our little Indian gathers a few dry stems, ties them in a bundle, lights one end, and holds it up. The =others do the same=, and with these =Torches= we =find a way= out of trouble." Observe that these torches (or =chuh= as the Chinese would call them) were not ignited to =warm= the explorers. They were held aloft to find or light the way among perilous cliffs. Without their aid it would have been madness for the explorers to move. Practically they were as men born blind, but the Indian guide, with knowledge derived from the depths of antiquity, obtains the necessary torches and light at his elbow. With one withered and hot stem he ties together a number, lights them and then finds the way out of trouble for both himself and his bewildered party. What have we here but a duplication of the "illumination of torches" referred to in the ancient record? 17. =chuh= (the illumination of torches; a candle; a torch.) 18. =yuen= ("to lead or take by the hand, to cling to; to pull up higher, to drag out; to put forward; to relieve, to rescue") 19. =yiu= (have, has; to get.) 20. =Ta= (Great.) 21. =Hoh= (Canyon.) 22. =hao= (a mark, classed, a signal.) 23. =wei= (said or declared; has; in the place of.) 24. =wu= (no; without; destitute of.) 25. =te= (bottom.) It appears that within the bottomless =Ta-hoh= or Great Canyon (see words 19 to 25) there is an illumination of torches (=chuh=) and a pulling up higher, or a dragging about and clinging to (=yuen=). Climbing is here referred to. The Sun people seem to have found locomotion difficult and hazardous within the chasm. The modern explorer who reached the irrigated garden plots and houses of the ancient occupants, was himself compelled to resort to much climbing. In one place he says: "I find I can get up no farther, and cannot step back, for I dare not let go with my hands, and cannot reach foot-hold below without. I call to Bradley for help.... The moment is critical. Standing on my toes my muscles begin to tremble.... I hug close to the rock, let go with my hand, seize the dangling legs, and with his assistance, I am enabled to gain the top" (n. 64.) It will be seen by the intelligent reader that the forgoing performance is covered by the term =yuen= (No. 18) used in the ancient record. There was a =rescue= by Bradley, and the desperate adventurer, a chief of the Ethnological Bureau, was "pulled up higher," even to "the top" of the cliff. All this constitutes =yuen=; and without intending it, our modern climber--calling to Bradley for help--is a most eloquent and lucid commentator on the ancient statement in the Chinese text. But this climbing should be accomplished in connection with =chuh= (No. 17--the illumination of torches). Is it true that there is climbing by torchlight (not =moonlight=, gentle reader) within the chasm? Light is thrown on the ancient text by a statement already in part quoted: "We fear that we shall have to stay here =clinging= to the rocks until daylight. Our little Indian gathers a few dry stems, ties them in a bundle, lights one end, and holds it up. The others do the same, and with these torches we find a way out of trouble. =Helping= each other, holding =torches= for each other, one =clinging= to another's =hand= until we get footing, then supporting the other on his shoulders, so we make our passage into the depths of the canyon. And now Captain Bishop has kindled a huge fire of driftwood, on the bank of the river. This and the fires in the gulch opposite, and our own =flaming torches=, light up little patches, that make more manifest the awful darkness below. Still, on we go, for an hour or two, and at last we see Captain Bishop coming up the gulch, with a =huge= torch-light on his shoulders. He looks like a fiend waving brands and lighting the fires of hell, and the men in the opposite gulch are imps lighting delusive fires in inaccessible crevices, over yawning chasms.... At last we meet Captain Bishop with his flaming torch" (n. 65). And so the brilliant description continues. What is all this but the =chuh yuen= of the ancient record? Here surely is "an illumination of torches." Torches and Climbing, say the Ancients. Torches and Climbing, say the Moderns. [Illustration] We can readily understand why the ancient occupants of the stone houses in the Grand Canyon, should have used the torches so liberally and conveniently supplied by nature throughout the region where their light is too often sadly or desperately needed. We have been informed by a modern visitor that ruined cave habitations are to be seen along "lofty and inaccessible ledges." And these dwellings "were reached by very narrow, precipitous, and devious paths, and being extremely difficult to attain by the occupants themselves, presented an impregnable front to invaders." Surely here torches would often come in handy. Dr. Fewkes believes that the ancient occupants of the cliff or cave houses chose hazardous sites in order to be out of the reach of enemies. He says: "The pressure of outside tribes, or what may be called human environment, probably had much to do originally with the choice of caves for houses. The experienced archaeologist also draws attention to Jackson's remark that finger imprints answering to those of women, "may still be traced in the mortar" of the dwellings (n. 66). Many interiors indeed are covered with smooth plaster in which the impressions of small and delicate fingers appear. Of course, women and children formerly lived on the "inaccessible ledges"; and sons, fathers, husbands, or brothers, away perhaps hunting in distant glens or forests, were comparatively free from anxiety concerning the condition of loved ones at home. And if savages with tomahawks and scalping knives came stealing through ravines to the foot of impregnable stairways, the mothers aloft, pressing children to their breasts and looking down on baffled foes, must have felt something of the emotion which throbs through the well-known lines, written indeed by a woman,-- For the strength of the hills we bless Thee, Our God, our fathers' God! Thou hast made Thy children mighty By the touch of the mountain sod; Thou hast fixed our ark of refuge Where the spoiler's foot ne'er trod;-- For the strength of the hills we bless Thee, Our God, our fathers' God! And if in the darkness of night, the awaited signal or cry were heard arising from the heart of the abyss, how quickly the doors would be opened and ropes lowered and torches lighted to help the hunters to their homes on high! Torches flaming and eyes gleaming. Lights flashing in all directions. An illumination of torches. No wonder the Canyon was noted for its =chuh yuen= and cave dwellings. Lights, Climbing, and Caves, say the Ancients. Lights, Climbing, and Caves, say the Moderns. The account continues thus: 26. =Leang= (the principal, the chief; a bridge, a beam.) 27. =kien= (official writing; to mark; a slip of bamboo for making notes on; a classifier of folios or sheets.) 28. =wan= (strokes, lines, literature, literary; a despatch.) 29. =Ta= (Great.) 30. =Hoh= (Canyon.) 31. =fu= (to spread abroad as decrees; to exact; to demand.) A =leang= or chief is here referred to in connection with the Great Canyon. The ruler is not exactly called the King or supreme head (=chwen suh=). Indeed, we have been already informed that the head ruler was a mere nurseling (at the time when he abandoned his Lute in the Canyon) and such an infant carried about by the mother who had just brought him into the world, among the cliffs and canyons, would evidently have been unable to either write or issue decrees. Of course, however, a nominally subordinate chief (or =leang=) might have attended to the details of government and ruled or directed the movements of the Sun people in the name of the infant King. Such a minister might have spread abroad decrees or commands within the Canyon. Are any writings to be seen on its walls? An explorer already in part quoted, says: "At last we meet Captain Bishop with his flaming torch.... On a broad shelf we find the ruins of an old stone house, the walls of which are broken down, and we can see where the ancient people who lived here--a race more highly civilized than the present--had made a garden, and used a great spring, that comes out of the rocks, for irrigation. On some rocks near by we discover some curious etchings" (n. 67). Here are cliff writings. Again, on the brink of a rock 200 feet high stands an old house. Its walls are of stone, laid in mortar, with much regularity.... On the face of the cliff, under the building and along down the river for 200 or 300 yards, there are many etchings." Here are writings "spread abroad" within the =Ta-hoh= or Great Canyon. Not painted on the cliffs, but cut into the stone! Beyond the reach or malice of savage tribes, they doubtless furnished directions to friendly clans, telling where certain companies had moved, and so forth. "On many of the tributaries of the Colorado I have heretofore examined their deserted dwellings.... Sometimes the mouths of caves have been walled across and there are many other evidences to show their anxiety to secure defensible positions. Probably the nomadic tribes were sweeping down upon them, and they resorted to these cliffs and canyons for safety.... Here I stand where these now lost people stood centuries ago, and look over this strange country." The former chief of the Ethnological Bureau also says that at the mouth of the Colorado Chiquito he discovered some curious remains, such as ruins and pottery, also "etchings and hieroglyphics on the rocks." Some of the cliff or cave dwellings are singularly impressive. Baron Nordenskiold, says of one, called the "Cliff Palace," that it well deserves its proud name, "for with its round towers and high walls ... deep in the mysterious twilight of the cavern, and defying in their sheltered site the ravages of time, it resembled at a distance an enchanted castle." And Chapin exclaims: "Surely its discoverer had not overstated the beauty and magnitude of this strange ruin. There it was, occupying a great oval space under a grand cliff wonderful to behold, appearing like an immense ruined castle with dismantled towers" (n. 68). And yet Dr. Fewkes very rationally refuses to regard it as a "palace"--occupied merely by a king and servants or else officers of state managing an empire. Of course some nook within sheltered its ruler. But it is merely a pueblo--set within a cave. One French visitor says: "Il est probable que Cliff-Palace n'abritait pas moins de 500 personnes" (n. 69). At this rate it would have required forty such structures (or equivalent clusters of apartments) to shelter, say, 20,000 individuals. There is mention of cave dwellings in connection with the Great Canyon; and as Sun people with a supreme ruler (although but a suckling) are represented as climbing within the chasm, with the aid of torches, we expect to find curious remains in connection with the caverns. Nor are we disappointed. Here are mouths of caves walled up for defensive purposes. Here are ramparts, towers, and fortified structures classed with castles. We are informed that decrees were spread abroad in the Canyon; and searching for the ancient inscriptions, we find that they are cut into the cliffs. This shows that the former dwellers were able to cut and work stone; and abundant remains of masonry are at hand to sustain this deduction. The personality of the =ju=, or suckling ruler, remains to be investigated, and should yield curious--most surprising--results; but, of course, reasonable, logical critics will not for an instant confound such an inquiry with that just finished. Even absolute failure to unearth the facts with regard to the Prince and his royal mother, can not shake the plain fact that we have actually found an account of the Grand Canyon, the Colorado River, and the Gulf of California, in an ancient Chinese book. PIMO AND THE CASAS GRANDES It may further be remarked that the Chinese paragraph which immediately follows the account of our Canyon, mentions a place called "Pi-mo." This is its pronunciation in Canton, but in Shanghai, where =mo= is accorded the sound of =mu= (see Williams' dict. p. 1154 and p. 1186, column 6) =Pi-mo= would be called =Pi-mu=. Now, this Pi-mo or Pi-mu is said (see existing translation) to be situated in the "south-east corner of the desert beyond the eastern sea. Proceeding eastward until the "Eastern Sea," which washes the coast of China, is crossed, the modern investigator reaches California and Arizona. And here, in the region or basin of the Colorado, he finds a place still called "Pi-mo." It is in Arizona, with a "desert" of sand--the desert of California and Sonora--to its west and south, and a region of running streams, grass, and forests to its east. =Pimo= is itself in the "desert"--in a "south-east corner of the desert beyond the Eastern Sea." It is entirely dependent on artificial irrigation for its limited power to support human beings. Here are ruined buildings whose origin is shrouded in mystery and around or about which controversies have raged for centuries. One visitor, an American officer, states that his General "asked a Pimo, who made the house I had seen?" The house was one of the Casas Grandes in the neighborhood of Pimo. Who had made it? was now the question. The reply was: "It was built by the son of the most beautiful woman who once dwelt in yon mountain; she was fair and all the handsome men came to court her, but in vain; when they came, they paid tribute, and out of this small store she fed all people in times of famine and it did not diminish." Moreover, "at last she brought forth a boy, who was the builder of all these houses." The Pimo Indian "seemed unwilling to talk about them, but said there were plenty more of them to the north, south, west, etc." (note 70.) [Was the royal suckling or Prince ever carried down into the neighboring Grand Canyon by the beneficient being, his mother? Was he a =shao hao= (as the Chinese might say) or little Child of the Sun? Did he ever see the Cliff Palace? Were he and his people connected with the cave and cliff-dwellings? And when he retired from the Canyon did he fail to take with him a Lute?] If the royal suckling (or =ju=) of the Chinese account ever actually lived in the neighborhood of the Grand Canyon, or in the vicinity of Pimo, and was connected with a restless or troubled nation of Cliff Dwellers or stone-house builders, why should not the Indians have some traditional, even if but hazy recollection of both the suckling and his imperial mother? The forefathers of the Pimos must have beheld them, and it is difficult to suppose that the ancient legendary knowledge has completely evaporated from the aboriginal memory. As we have learned the construction of the Casas Grandes at Pimo is connected with the advent or movements of an intelligent, even if harassed race of Builders who owed allegiance to a Princess or her child. And if it is a fact that in a time of famine the royal lady fed the ancestors of the Pimos, we wonder not that the nation has enshrined her image within its ceaseless, throbbing heart. The hill-top on which she gave birth to her suckling is remembered to the present hour and was pointed to by the Pimo interpreter when telling the American General about the merciful being who fed the hungry in a time of famine (and perhaps had relieved or cheered his own ancestor.) Let us not overlook or snub the fact that Pimo--the Pimo of "the region beyond the Eastern Sea" is actually mentioned in the same breath with the Grand Canyon and the Gulf. It is represented by characters numbered 9 and 10 in the extract from the ancient Chinese volume, now set before the patient and intelligent reader who appreciates or perceives the difficulties connected with the present investigation. The last column (reading from right to left) consists of 12 characters, which express the following sense: =Ta=--=Hg=--east--south--corner--=has=--=shan= (mountain or height)--called--=Pi mo=--=ti=--=kiu=. The 11th term, =ti=, stands for "place;" and a =kiu= is a level-topped hill. As it is also called a =shan= (see No. 7), the =kiu= should be a prominent eminence having a level space on top. The name =Pi-mo= is expressed by putting =Pi=, which signifies "skin" or "case," along with =mo=, which simply stands for "mother." A mother, or a maternal case is connected with the =Pi-mo kiu= or level-topped hill. Is such an eminence to be seen in the vicinity of Pi-mo? Has it a flat summit? Are there any signs that it was inhabited by the queen of the Builders? The Pimo Indian told the general that on the hill-top in the vicinity--in the Lower Gila Valley--a female ruler gave birth to a child. Is there any foundation for the legend? Where is her house? [Illustration] Referring to the structures in Arizona, an observer draws particular attention to one "comparatively intact in the lower Gila valley." He says: "The hill on which it is built rises abruptly from the surrounding lowlands to the height of a full thousand feet. Near the northwest corner the ancient strategists began at a height of thirty feet, carving a narrow pathway to the summit. Here an irregular stone staircase has been made, passable by one person at a time. At intervals watchtowers were constructed, from which huge boulders could be hurled down upon the advancing foe. "The road makes three complete circles above the hill before reaching the upper =level=." [Here is a =level=-topped hill or =kiu=.] "Here another monument of early fortitude inspired by the love of life presents itself. There is, perhaps, three acres of =level= rock on the summit. For a depth of nearly two feet the entire =plateau= is covered with rich soil 'packed up' from below. When one pauses to think of the immense labor involved in carrying this mass of earth up the irregular winding stone staircase, a feeling of admiration springs up for these simple patient people." It is plain that there is a =level=-topped hill (or =kiu=) in the vicinity of Pimo. And it is directly connected in Indian tradition with the movements of a race of builders who reared "all these houses," and were directed or governed by a beneficient being who here gave birth to a remarkable prince. But it is enough at present to observe that the Chinese symbols connect Pimo--the Pimo of the "region beyond the Eastern Sea"--with a Mother, or notable Birth. And when the American General--in our region beyond the Eastern Sea--inquires at Pimo for information, concerning its now silent and forsaken ruins, the Pimo interpreter instantly responds by raising his arm and pointing to the hill of the royal birth. The Hill of the Maternal Case is there, say the Chinese. The Hill of the Maternal Case is Here, say the Pimos. The hill is prominent or lofty and quite level on top. It is in truth a =kiu= (pronounced like our own word cue) and holds aloft some impregnable dwellings and also a green spot or abandoned garden--clay having been carried aloft a thousand feet by devoted Builders in part to raise flowers for the young mother. But, of course, her own bud was the brightest of all. And every one told her so. And what a wide view from the summit! And how cool the air up there! How different from the blazing Canyon (with its hidden or abandoned Lute.) "The General asked a Pimo, who made the house I had seen? 'It is the Casa de Montezuma', said he; it was built by the son of the most beautiful woman who once dwelt in yon mountain; she was fair--" Notice here the name "Montezuma." The Casas Grandes at Pimo were fortunately seen by Spanish explorers in the 16th century, and "the Indians then assigned them an age of no less than 500 years." (note 71.) Of course the Casa Grande Montezuma (or Builder Prince of the 11th century) could not have been the Montezuma who was overthrown by Cortez in the 16th century. As well confound William of Normandy with William of Holland, because each was a William! Let fools do that! One writer says with regard to the legends of the sedentary Indians, that "the name of Montezuma runs through all of these--not generally referring to the king whom we are accustomed to identify with that name, but to the great chief of the golden or heroic age." (n. 72) There are noticeable variations in the name or title of the ancient king. Thus one Spanish explorer speaks of "the Casa Grande, or palace of =Moc=-te-zuma" (n. 73.) Here we have =Moc= (or =Mok=, as it is by others spelled) instead of =Mon= (ti-zuma.) Another authority furnishes the spelling =Mo=-te-cuh-=zoma=, and adds, that it is "found written also =Moc=-te-zuma, Mu-teczuma, Mo-texuma" (n. 74.) Notice the three different spellings or sounds--=Mo=, =Mu=, and =Mok=, prefixed to "=te-zuma=...." The title =te= or =ti= (or =te-cuh=) signifies warrior or lordly ruler (n. 75.) As for =suma= it is said to mean "sad, angry, or severe." [But SOMA may include an allusion to the water of immortality and embrace the notion of divine descent.] =Mok= (the =te-zuma=) =Mo= or =Mu= were names or titles bestowed on the 11th century Builder Prince who was connected with the construction of the Casas Grandes in the Pimo section, and was born on a prominent hill-top there. He was =Mok=, =Mo= or =Mu=. Turning to the Chinese account we find that the royal =ju= or suckling connected with the region of the Grand Canyon and Pimo, was likewise known as =Mu=. (note 76.) In addition, the suckling is repeatedly called a =ti= (or =te= as it is just as often spelled.) And this, so far, agrees with the title of the Pimo infant, whose name is frequently said to be =Mu-ti= (zuma.) A =Mu-ti=, say the Chinese. A =Mu-ti=, say the Pimos. According to the Chinese record, the imperial (=ti= or =te=) heir apparent (or =yuen-tsz=) suckling or baby (=ju=) whose estate or patrimony (=chan=) was =Loh-ming= (name of a region) lived or resided (=ku=) as the tender, delicate youth (=yao=) =Mu=. Here we see that the heir apparent the ju or baby was both =Mu= and a =ti=. The old account connects the infantile ruler with a region called Loh-ming. We need not delay to ascertain the position of this province or land; enough now to observe that wherever it was, the =ju= and =ti= lived there (or lived some where) as the pleasing and tender =Mu=. The baby was =Mu=. This name, like some of our own names, such as Grace, Patience, Clement, is frequently used as an adjective. It may stand for either "beauty" or "majesty," but it is also, at times, a surname. (note 77.) As already seen, the Great Canyon with the connected bottomless abyss, in the region beyond the Eastern Sea, is connected with the Sun and Moon Shan. And on this Shan is "the Great Men's Country" (see existing translation.) Now a Chinese comment (note 78) informs us that the =forts= of the entirely great =Mu= formerly held or possessed this Great Men's Country (which is on the Sun and Moon Shan.) Information is next furnished concerning the largest Walrusses, and it is plain that the polar region is referred to. The account is quite clear, as any Chinese scholar can see, now that we have pointed out the position of the passage. It might seem advisable to prove that the haunt of the Walrus was known to the ancient Chinese writers who have furnished accounts of America, but it is unnecessary to do this, seeing that the phenomenon of Ten Suns, which is only visible at the Arctic Circle, is referred to in the ancient books. Moreover, as we have learned, appearances of five or seven suns (or moons) shining simultaneously in the sky, are distinctly connected with the Sun and Moon Shan. It was therefore known that the mountain system of North America, stretches upward--like the Branches of a Tree--from the vicinity of the Grand Canyon to the Polar region, or place of the Ten Suns. And from a point here, the shores of North-eastern Tartary or Asia can be seen without even the aid of an opera-glass. It now appears that in the remote past there was a ruler named =Mu= dwelling in the mountainous land which stretches from the Grand Canyon to the Arctic Ocean. His domain was on the Sun and Moon Shan. And he had fortified dwellings or forts. Where, today, are the remains of the ancient strongholds? One observer says with reference to the cliff-dwellings, that they "have the appearance of fortified retreats. The occupants, on account of "decending hordes devised these =unassailable= retreats.... The builders hold no smallest niche in recorded history. Their aspirations, their struggles and their fate are all unwritten, save in these crumbling stones, which are their sole monuments and meagre epitaph. Here once they dwelt. They left no other print on time." (note 79.) The "unassailable retreats" noticed by this melancholy writer may well be some of the strongholds of Mu and his followers or warriors. The ancient pueblos (or Casas Grandes) are of great strength. When the "ladders are drawn in, the various sides present a perpendicular front to an enemy, and the building itself becomes a =fortress=." Further, "The strength of the walls of these structures was proved during the Mexican war, when it was found that they were impregnable to field-artillery." (note 80.) The Spanish soldier, Castenada, in the 16th century said with regard to the Pimo Casa Grande, that "it seemed to have served as a fortress." (note 81.) Now, =Pimo=--represented by the symbols for a maternal case and hill--is mentioned on the very page of the Chinese book which notices our Grand Canyon. Then, we are told that cliff-dwellings were here and a Sun Prince (at first a mere =ju= or infant) called =Mu=, and that he or his followers erected forts or fortresses. And here we find no scarcity of ancient strongholds. And when we ask the Indians for the name of the ruler who governed the now decaying strongholds, their answer is--=Mu=. The very title in the Chinese book. =Mu=, say the Ancients. =Mu=, say our Indians. It may be said that some of the latter pronounce the title =Mo=. One of our philologists speaks of "Montezuma, or more correctly, =Mo=tecuhzoma." (note 82.) Another authority says: "Montezuma, or more correctly, =Moc=tezuma." (note 83.) In his account of the Casa Grande, the old time Spanish traveler, Padre Garces, says: On this river is situated the house which they call =Moc=tezuma's. (note 84.) It is evident that the two pronunciations =Mo= and =Mok= are preferred to =Mon= (tezuma) and that =Mu= has also its advocates. Curiously enough, these three sounds =Mu=, =Mo=, and =Mok=, are likewise applied to the one character by the Chinese literati. The identical symbol which Williams calls =Mu= is in another dictionary (see Bailley's, iii, p. 246) termed =Mo=. Morrison (vol. IV, p. 600-1) says that the two sounds =Mu= and =Mo= are both applied, and that in Canton this selfsame character is called =Mok=. It thus appears that the builder or ruler of the fortresses in the region beyond the Eastern Sea, might be called =Mu=, =Mo=, or =Mok=. And in the region referred to--"the region beyond the Eastern Sea"--we find many strongholds or forts (as well as cave-dwellings;) and when antiquarians inquire of the Indians for the name of the ancient Builder Prince, they are variously informed that he was the glorious =Mu=, =Mo=, or =Mok=. If the royal infant (or =ju=) became in process of time a ruler of fortresses (=tai=) which "formerly held the Great Men's Country" (on the Sun and Moon Shan) would be surprising to find that he himself had been born within the shelter of a =tai= or fortress? And what is the fortified hill at Pimo but a fortress? He counts it as the first of the forts of =Mu= or =Mo-ti= in "the region beyond the Eastern Sea." Remember that our own government has erected numbers of forts on hilltops throughout the South-west expressly for the purpose of holding such tribes as the Navajoes and Apaches in check. (And in addition we are furnishing the red men with supplies.) But in the 11th century there were no Congressional appropriations, no detachments of troops hurrying down from Washington to preserve order. Yet the ancestors of our savage tribes were certainly there. And although the warrior chieftans immediately around the young queen appear to have been filled with jealousy of each other, it is certain that they were united as one in devising for the princess a calm or sure retreat which no barbaric host could take by assault. From its base the savage ranks would reel, or break into foam like waves of the sea. Aloft in this secure retreat she gave birth to =Mo=. Who was his father? The American General already referred to, supplies his own report of the Pimo interpreter's words: "All he knew was a tradition amongst them, 'that in bygone days, a woman of surpassing beauty resided in a green spot in the mountains near the place where we were encamped. All the men admired and paid court to her. She received the tributes of their devotion, grain, skins, etc., but gave no love or other favor in return. Her virtue and her determination to remain unmarried were equally firm. There came a drought which threatened the world with famine. In their distress, people applied to her, and she gave corn from her stock, and the supply seemed to be endless. Her goodness was unbounded. One day, as she was lying asleep with her body exposed, a drop of rain fell on her stomach, which produced conception. A son was the issue, the founder of a new race which built all these houses'.... The houses of the people (the agricultural or sedentary Pimos) are mere sheds, thatched with willow and corn stalks" (n. 85.) This report is more rational than the other in so far as it represents the multitudinous houses of stone or adobe as being reared by a "race" rather than by a "boy"! But, of course, the "son" could not have been the "founder" of his mother or of her ancestors. It is further apparent that the infant could not have been either the builder or inventor of the house or stronghold in which he was born. Of course it is an impossibility to get at the exact truth in relation to the mysterious birth. The unwedded lady's own account ought to constitute a sufficient explanation, and would--but for the unfortunate historic fact that no mother has ever been known to tell her children the truth about their production. Even Christian mothers lie precisely like Pagans in this respect, and are just as thorough-going humbugs as Hannah in the temple, when questioned for details. They will tell a poor helpless, green, inquiring child, for instance, that they found him in a cabbage, when the actual truth is that they got him from a stork. We therefore unanimously dismiss their worse than useless testimony as that of a shameless pack of preposterous deluderers. It is probable that the Pimo princess may have been secretly wedded or united to some man whom she really loved and preferred to all others. Yet an open avowal of such preference might have caused his death or might have turned the love of rival suitors into hate and brought about the ruin of the already sufficiently perplexed and troubled nation. But would not the birth of the infant have revealed all? Certainly, but in the present instance the Queen seems to have contented herself with the announcement that she had got her child from Heaven. Her friends, including doubtless the priests, at once spread abroad the story that the infant--the Child of the Sun--was of celestial origin. This tale may not have completely satisfied the numerous rival claimants for the lady's hand. But how disprove it? And why assail or shake the authority of the beautiful young queen? Why not draw closer together, bury their mutual animosities or rivalries and face the murderous hordes thronging the passes of the Rocky Mountains and slopes of the Mississippi Valley? Why not grasp at the hope--embodied in the suckling born on the hilltop--that Heaven had furnished a leader, a reincarnated divinity of the wandering nation, who would guide the despairing people onward to new fields of national glory and prosperity. It may of course be said that such predictions were never realized, but it is certain that they were cherished. Even the Mokis, Tunis and Pimos still regard =Mo-ti= as immortal and await his return. He is "the demigod of their earliest traditions, watching over them from Heaven and waiting to come again to bring to them victory and a period of millenial glory and happiness" (n. 86.) And, of course, those who actually followed the leader =Mu= must have felt strongly the ties of affection and veneration. And who were the people who got across to Mongolia with accounts of our Grand Canyon, Gulf and Continental Tree--crowned with its wreath of multiplied suns? [Doubtless the notion that our =Mu-te= (or =Te-Mu=) was of divine origin, had a surprising, stimulating effect. Curiously enough, Asiatic writers notice a =Te-mu= (=Te-mu-dzin= or =Temugin=) who arose in Tartary in the early part of the 12th century, and therefore might be regarded as the contemporary of our =Mu= born at Pimo about the year 1100. Some say this Tartarean conqueror was called Timour or Temur-chi, and his origin is wrapt in mystery. One account treats him as a demigod, but other statements assume that a divinity was his remote ancestor. He is said to belong to the race that broke out of Irkena Kon (or the mountain valley), situated in some out of the way and dangerous region. Personally this =Mu= came from a distant land. Some historians whose time is valuable readily find Irkena Kon in the vicinity of the Caspian Sea, but others declare that it must be situated in the direction of the Arctic Ocean! [In his old age, in or about the year 1153, this supposed demigod had a child born to him. The name of Temudzin or Temugin was bestowed upon the infant. When thirteen years old his father--the demigod--died, and the extensive empire which the parent had established fell into political pieces. Gibbon, in his "Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire," chap. LXIV, says that the young prince Temugin could only claim authority over about 12,000 families. We should never overlook this fact when contemplating his career. Every incident in his history is known. His name has resounded through the world. He rose to be a mighty conqueror. He became Jenghiz Khan--King of Kings--grandsire of Kublai Khan, ancestor of Tamerlane and the Great Moguls, and of no end of Persian or Moslem Sultans or Kings. [The immediate followers of Jenghiz Khan always declared that success awaited him because he was the son of a God. Petis de la Croix denounces such a claim as a piece of "insolence," yet it might better be regarded as a form of delusion. But notice the victorious lengths to which this delusion carried believers. And the notion promulgated at Pimo, in the midst of crowding calamities,--that the royal infant was a Son of Heaven,--might have been intended to console and stimulate a despairing nation. And the spiritual stimulus appears to have transported its believers to such lengths that aboriginal Americans seem to have lost track of the demigod, and know not from what point he may return. [The father of Temugin was the founder of the =Yuen= dynasty, or at all events an ancestral king. He is generally called Yisukai or Pysukai Behadur, but such is a mere title, signifying "9th hero," and not a proper name at all. Some lucid commentators will positively tell us that it was not the father of Jenghiz Khan, but his 9th father or ancestor, who was the God. But with such hair-splitting we need not concern ourselves. Enough to note the uplifting, psychological effect or result of faith or belief in divine aid or protection. No wonder David exclaims: "Thy rod and Thy staff, they comfort me." [In the case of the Tartars, the results of their exalted faith were indeed surprising. The Crusades of the Christians had proved a failure. Jerusalem had passed from their hands. Richard, King of England, had been taken prisoner. The Moslems, according to Gibbon, were preparing for the invasion of Europe. Their brethren were actually intrenched in the heart of Spain. Enraged against western nations for the long war waged against their power, armies were gathering for the conquest and plunder of Christendom. The crescent instead of the cross, says Gibbon, was to glitter on the spire of St. Paul's. [But at this very juncture, Jenghiz Khan and his followers came pouring forth from the wilds of Tartary. The Sultan felt secure within his line of fortified cities which hitherto had repelled every assault. But the Tartarean host--led by warriors of the race from Irkena Kon--overthrew the Moslems in every encounter. They ransacked the provinces and gave the cities to the flames. And the children or successors of the conqueror completed the work which he had begun. Bagdad which for ages had successfully defied the invading, crusading armies of Europe, was destroyed, and an end put to the Caliphate so long enthroned within its historic walls. The conquest of China was completed by Kublai Khan, and an empire formed which stretched from the Indian Ocean to the Arctic, and from the Pacific to the Mediterranean Sea.] Even traditions of tribes that most certainly remained behind in Arizona and consequently did not disappear in company with the mysterious =Mu= or Mo-te, declare that he was an agent of Providence. He was the "equal" of the "Great Spirit" and "was often considered identical with the Sun" (n. 87.) Had he remained in Arizona, his son in due time might have claimed divine descent through his father the demigod. CHINESE KNOWLEDGE OF THE PIMO DEMIGOD. But if the =Mu-te= (or =Te-Mu=,) builder or ruler of fortresses in the region of Pimo and the Grand Canyon, was identical with our Pimo =Mu-te=, he should be referred to as semi-divine, in the Chinese record. And so he actually is. Even here the evidence does not fail. But conception of the little sun-child did not occur on the well watched or guarded hilltop at Pimo. It was in a green wilderness noted for its hay or grass and butchering of beasts, that a phantasm approached the female--and so on. Fortunately we can turn away from this particular account of the visit of incubus, seeing that the necessary information is more conveniently furnished elsewhere (n. 88.) The name of a mountain, which may or may not have been far indeed from the Grand Canyon, is furnished, and we are informed that =Shao Hao= dwelt (=ku=) there (=chi=.) In addition he is called a sovereign (=ti= or =te=) and a =shan=. Now this term, =shan=, according to Williams (p. 737,) stands for "the gods, the divinities, a god, a supernatural good being; divine; spiritual, as being higher than man; godlike, wonderful, superhuman; to deify. The =Shao Hao= (or =Mu-ti=) is a =shan= or god. A god! say the Chinese. A god! say the Indians. Taking the account as it stands, it appears that an incarnated god (in the shape of the =Shao Hao Mu=) was at one time within the Grand Canyon (which still retains his "lute.") Notice that the "country contiguous to the mighty chasm is called the "Shao Hao's country." Next observe that the vast chasm (or =ta-hoh=) is itself called the Great Canyon of the Incarnated God (or =Keang Shang=.) =Shang= stands for "Heaven" or supreme;" and Keang signifies "to descend from a higher level, to come from the sky, to fall as rain, to come into the world as Christ did" (Williams.) The contiguous country is named in honor of the =Shao Hao=, or sun-child, who is called a =shan= or god. And "=Keang Shang's= ta-hoh" or great Canyon is also named in honor of this =shan= or god--this incarnated god. And here, "in the region beyond the Eastern Sea," the land is ringing with his name. He was =Mu= or =Mo-te= and a builder of forts, and above and beyond all this he was an incarnation of the Great Spirit! "The name, at this moment, is as familiar to every Indian, Apache and Navajoe as that of our Savior or Washington is to us" (n. 89.) Bancroft says: "Under restrictions, we may fairly regard him as the Melchizedek, the =Moses=, and the Messiah of the Pueblo desert-wanderers from an Egypt that history is ignorant of, and whose name even tradition whispers not." A Messiah and Demigod! say the Chinese. A Messiah and Demigod! say Americans. Bancroft, says, that according to Indian paintings or traditions, the Messiah or Demigod of Pueblo tradition had red or yellow hair. Then Mo was a white man and his mother a white woman. Such a conclusion agrees completely with the teaching of the ancient Chinese book just quoted. We are informed with reference to a certain mountain, that: =Ki= (the) =shan= (god or spirit) =poh= (white) =ti= (sovereign) =Shao hao= (little sun-child) =ku= (dwelt) =chi= (there). Next appears a comment stating in the plainest possible terms that =Shao Hao= of the =Kin Tien= dynasty was a virtuous or excellent ruler. The =Shao Hao= who was at the Ta-hoh or Great Canyon is here called a =White King=. Mons. Rosny, in his French translation, declares that the divine or superhuman =Shao Hao= was "l'empereur Blanc." (note 90.) One well known writer and archaeologist says with reference to the builders of some structures in the Pimo region, that there is "reason to suppose that they were a light-skinned people. At least one red-haired skull and one with still lighter hair were found. Hair has been but rarely found not over a half dozen times in all. In three cases it was black." (note 91.) According to aboriginal testimony, 800 years have rolled by since the time of burial, and hair has lingered on but few of the heads it once adorned. But when discovered it is seen to be quite different from the hair of the Indians. Those interested in the subject of the Cliff-dwellers should study the accurate reports of the Ethnological Bureau and also the writings of Editor Peet the well known "American Antiquarian." These works should be in the libraries of all Americanists. According to the American Antiquarian, Doctor Birdsall reports that dried bodies have been found in tombs on the Mesa Verde in Arizona and the "hair of the head has been found partly preserved on some mummies. It is said to be of fine texture, not coarse like Indian hair and varying in color from shades of yellowish brown to reddish brown and black" ... The Wetherills exhumed one mummy having a short brownish beard." (note 92.) We are further informed that mummies have been taken from "a hermetically sealed cave in the Canyon of the Gila River," and two of the bodies were those of women. The females "retain their long, flowing silken hair." The "bodies were covered with highly colored clothes, which crumbled on exposure. Three kinds were saved, and one a deep blue woven in diamond shapes. No implements or utensils were found.... All the consuls and many scientific men inspected the mummies yesterday. Among those present were Henry A. Ward, of Rochester, N. Y., Kate Field, Dr. Harkness, Academy of Sciences." Other Doctors and Professors were present and also "Historian Bancroft." (n. 93.) In addition to all this, Professor C. L. Webster, the accomplished, painstaking, and trusted scientist of Charles City, Iowa, has unearthed a body whose silent testimony is truly inestimable. In the "Archaeological Bulletin," issued by the International Society of Archaeologists (Madison, Indiana,) for July and September, 1912, we find a photograph of a mummy brought to light by the Professor in a cliff-house on a head stream of the Gila. The body is that of a child, and its preservation is due to "the chemical elements of the soil," etc. "The hair on the head of the mummy was of a beautiful dark brown color, and of a soft and silky texture," and "the hair on the head of this mummified child is of the same color and texture (only finer) as that of adults found braided in long plaits in an adjoining room"--Page 78. The Professor believes that "different races" were here contending for the mastery of the region, and that "one or more of them were driven out (perhaps destroyed) suddenly" (see article 1.) Another archaeologist says, that "quite recently hieroglyphics were discovered in the Tonto Basin country, depicting the driving out of white people by red men, and local archaeologists have set up a theory that the people who once cultivated these valleys were white. The present Indians have many legends of white men being in their country before the advent of the Spanish conquistodores. Father Marcas Niza, a pious Jesuit, who accompanied Coronado on his march through this section in search of the seven lost cities of Cibola, speaks frequently of allusions made by Indians to white bearded men who were here before" (n. 94.) [In tracking the missing white race, remember that some of the Toltecs, like the Mayas of Yucatan, compressed the skull in childhood, that they had among them a sprinkling of very large men (quinames,) and that in the wilderness their mode of living would be more like that of Indians than of cultured, civilized people.] Mons. Charney has argued that the Mexican Toltecs were of a white race, but very foolishly argues (like Baron Humboldt) that the Toltecs marched from Mongolia to Mexico in the 6th century. The illustrious Humboldt has served Archaeology enormously by drawing attention to the absolute and startling identity of the Zodiacal signs of the Manchu Tartars with those of Central America (see Mr. Vining's exceedingly comprehensive and valuable work entitled "An Inglorious Columbus.") Skilled, scientific archaeologists connected with the Washington Bureau have all along been contending that the cliff or cave dwellings, forts, pueblos, and mounds of North America were constructed by native-born Americans, rather than by Toltecs moving in, say, the 6th century from Tartary to Arizona or Mexico. Therefore, as the Toltecs (sun-people and architects or builders) were certainly settled in Mexico for some centuries prior to the 11th (when the remnant disappeared,) the ancestors of the pale-faced and cultured people (see Vining's chapter on the "Toltecs") may like ourselves have reached America by crossing the Atlantic. The Greek face, the Celtic face, the Saxon face, and the Jewish or Semitic face are all seen carved on the tottering walls of temples and palaces in Yucatan (see Charney's essays.) Moving to the Vale of Mexico, the Toltecs tried with more or less success to keep on neighborly terms with the red skinned people. But thoughtless propagation produced more mouths than could be filled--except with human flesh. Open war broke out in the 11th century. The Aztecs or others of the red tribes almost annihilated the Whites; and Topiltzin Quetzalcoatl, the "last" King of the Toltecs fled north from Chapultepec,--the selfsame Chapultepec which in our own day has seen the downfall of Maxmillian and the flight of Diaz. May not the fair and beautiful Princess at Pimo have belonged to the outcast Mexican royal family? May not her idolized child have inherited titles absurdly out of place among the deserts of Arizona? And may not all the elements in our later Yankee nation have been represented in the pale-faced people that found refuge among the canyons and cliffs of the Colorado? If so, their remote or ancestral fathers and mothers were likewise no less our own. The curtain of history rises and shows the young Queen of the Builders on a hill top at Pimo. The structures there, according to aboriginal testimony were reared about the year 1100,--the very time when the Toltecs disappeared from the Vale of Mexico. And now the ruins are yielding up forms of the females who once tenanted those cliffs and contrived to get plaster and paint with which to adorn the now desolate and trembling walls. And the yellow, brown, or silky black hair on the heads of those women who sought to make their bleak and dreary homes attractive, shows unfailingly their race. Even an ostrich might see it! Mons. Charney declares that the Toltecs expelled from Mexico in the 11th century were scholars, artists, astronomers, and philosophers. And their sisters were certainly no less cultured and refined. Now, the Shan Hai King states that in "the region beyond the Eastern Sea" there is (or was) a "Country of Refined Gentlemen." And Charney argues that "a gentle race were the Toltecs, preferring the arts to war." Refined and Gentle--men, says Charney. Refined Gentlemen, says the Shan Hai King. Certain comments collected by Jin Chin Ngan, and unnoticed in Mr. Vining's translation (p. 657), connect the Refined Gentlemen with pyramids (=k'iu=) and even declare that their dwellings were on mounds (=ling=). And Charney says: "Now, the first thing that we find at the houses of Tula is an example of a mode of building entirely new and curious. The prevailing tendency of the Toltec is to place his dwellings and his temples likewise upon eminences and pyramids." They lived upon Mounds, says Charney. They lived upon Mounds, says the Shan Hai King. "They are very gentle, and do not quarrel. They have fragrant plants. They have a flowering-plant which produces blossoms in the morning that die in the evening. The Chinese account calls this vegetable production the =Hwa= plant, and as =Hwa= stands for "glory" (see Williams' Chinese dict.) it is apparent that the "Morning Glory" is referred to. Botanist Wood says: "This =glorious= plant is a =native= of Tropical America and now universally cultivated. It is also nearly naturalized with us." (in the United States.) "The flowers are ephemeral. Beginning to open soon after midnight, they greet the Sun at his rising, arrayed in all their =glory=" (=Hwa=) "and before he reaches the meridian, fold their robes and perish. But their work is done, and their successors, already in bud, will renew the gorgeous display the following morning."--P. 182. Such a flower might be held to symbolize the fleeting glory of the generations which had lived and died in Central America. It still climbs about the temples of the Sun, saluting its divinity with a smile, and then falling prostrate among the desolate and forsaken altars. It may often be seen twining its arms around the monuments of a buried Past, or pressing its lips to the dust of the vanished race it so speedily follows. It lives but a day, says the American botanist. It lives but a day, says the Shan Hai King. Surely the works in Arizona are worthy of the exiled Toltecs. One of the ancient stone structures, on a northern feeder of the Gila, is so strong, commodious, and so impregnably planted that by universal consent it is called a Castle. And because the Indian tribes persist in ascribing its construction to =Mu= or =Mo-te= it is known as "Montezuma's Castle." The Ethnological Bureau has interested itself in the preservation of this impressive work of the so-called Cliff-dwellers, and our Government has taken charge of it as a "National Monument." And =Ari-zona= is named in honor of the =Ari= or "Maiden"--the legendary Queen of the Pimo =zona= or Pimo valley. The mother referred to in the ancient Chinese record is thus remembered in the title of a Yankee sister State. Her idolized son is said to have governed Forts, and in the vicinity of the Castle we find a number of forts. Dr. Fewkes says: "The =forts= were built on the summits, ... and it is an instructive fact in this connection that one rarely loses sight of one of these hill =forts= before another can be =seen=." An "approaching foe" could be discerned and "smoke signals" would warn field-workers "to retreat to the =forts= for protection."--28th Rept. Bur. Amer. Ethnol., p. 207. (Read also connected pages for information relating to the forts and their builders. The same or an allied people erected also houses in natural caves or excavated them in soft rock."--P. 219. The latter--the excavated dwellings are noticed in Asiatic books and will be dealt with in next pamphlet--if such is ever written.) We have found the "Forts" and also Pimo (or Pima as some pronounce the name) with its Princess and her child. And have we not found the Gulf and Canyon referred to by the departed Ancients. Have we not found everything except perhaps the abandoned imperial Lute? And even it may yet be recovered. Let it be dug for at the Cliff of the Harp. Perhaps it may yet be resurrected-- "A Harp that in darkness and silence forsaken Has slumbered while ages rolled slowly along, Once more in its own native land may awaken And pour from its chords all the raptures of song. "Unhurt by the dampness that o'er it was stealing, Its strings in full chorus, resounding sublime, May 'rouse all the ardor of patriot feeling And gain a bright wreath from the relics of time." APPENDIX (Note 1) see Mr. Vining's "An Inglorious Columbus," p. 659. (2) =Jin-Chin Ngan's= comment in 14th Book of the Shan Hai King. (3) Kane's work. (4) Van Troil's "Iceland," 1, 643: Headley's "Island of Fire," p. 100. (5) Dr. Le Plongeon's "Queen Moo," xl, xlii, 175. (6) Vining, 182, 659, 666. (7) Vining; 182. (8) Vining, 659. (9) Vining, 659. (10) see index for essays collected by Mr. Vining. (11) see Chinese version of Shan Hai King, with Jin-chin-ngan's notes, (the latter being omitted in Mr. V.'s translation, p. 661.) (12) see either the =Shan Hai King=, book 14, or the translation of same. (13) Vin. 661. (14) Mark Twain's "Roughing It," p. 101. (15) Lieut. Ives' Report, Pt. 1, p. 23. (16) Powell's Report. (17) Scribners' Mag. Nov. 1890. (18) R. R. Co.'s Handbook on "Colorado." (19) Powell's Report. (Note 20) Stanton in Scribners' Mag. Nov. 1890. (21) Mr. F. A. Ober. (22) (compare Mr. Vining's translations with original Chinese statement.) (23) =Jin-Chin-ngan's= note (never hitherto translated into English.) (24) Dunraven's "Great Divide." (25) Vin. 647. (26) Powell's Report, 29, 35, 86. (27) Powell, 32, 71. (28) Vin. 532. (29) Stanton. (30) Mr. Clampitt's "Echoes from the Rocky Mts." 218. (31) Powell, p. 30. (32) "Glimpses of America" (Phila. 1894) p. 80. (33) Stanton. (34) "Glimpses." 78. (35) Powell, 16, 30. (36) Ives. Pt. I, 28; ii, p. 8. (37) Powell, 63, 86. (38) "Glimpses," 78. (39) Ives, 42. (Note 40) =Ives'= Rept., Pt. I, p. 73. (41) F. A. Ober in Brooklyn =Times=, June 19, 1897. (42) Sitgreaves, 17. (43) Ives, 66. (44) Ives, III, 49. (45) Powell, 125. (46) "Glimpses of Amer." 78. (47) Glimpses," 83. (48) Powell, 55, 60, 70. (49) Dellenbaugh's "Canyon Voyage," 139. (50) Powell, 65, 76. (51) G. W. James's "Wonders of the Colorado Desert," 30. (52) Murphy's "Three Wonderlands," 137. (53) Powell, 35, 63, 86, 90. (54) Piexot's "Romantic California," 67, 144, 148. (55) Ives. 23. (56) Sacred Mysteries of the Mayas", 90. (57) "Glimpses of Amer." p. 82. (58) F. A. Ober in the Brooklyn =Times=, June 19, '97. (59) Appleton's "New Amer. Cyc." Article Colorado. (Note 60) Sitgreaves' report, p. 17. (61) Ives, 107. (62) Sitgreaves, p. 18. (63) Dellenbaugh's "Canyon Voyage," 255. (64) Powell's Report. (65) Powell, 34, 35, 124, 125. (66) Smithson. Ethnol. "Bulletin," No. 51, p. 18. (67) Powell, 125. (68) Ethnological "Bulletin," No. 51, pp. 14, 15. (69) Bulletin, No. 51, p. 19. (70) Johnson's Journal in Emory's "Reconn. of N. Mex.," etc., 598-9. (71) Appletons' "New Am. Cyc." Article "Casas Grandes." (72) L. B. Prince's "New Mex.," p. 24. (73) Elliott Cones 'Comments on Garces' Diary, p. 94. (74) Encyc. Americana, vol. X. (75) Vining, 411. (76) see 28th character from last in note by Jin Chin Ngan preceding assertion in text that the Canyon has a beautiful mountain (Vining, 661.) (77) Morrison, IV, p. 601. (78) =Jin Chin Ngan=. (79) Murphy's "Three Wonderlands," 152. Note (80) Amer. Cyc. IV, p. 50. (81) Bancroft's "Native Races," IV, 620. (82) New Internat. Encyc. XIII. (83) Penny Cyc. Article "Mexico," p. 163. (84) Bancroft's "Native Races." (85) Emory, p, 83. (86) Prince's N. Mex. 24. (87) Prince's N. M. 24-6. (88) The =Shan Hai King=, Book II, section III, 14th mountain. (89) Emory, 64. (90) Shan Hai King, p. 83. (91) Mr Spears in N. Y. =Sun=. Sept. 3, 1893. (92) =Amer. Antiquarian=, May, 1892. (93) N. Y. =World=, Oct. 1887. (94) N. Y. =Recorder=, Feb. 19, 1893. * * * * * TRANSCRIBER'S NOTE: All apparent printer's errors retained. 
60959	----	available by Internet Archive (https://archive.org) Note: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this file which includes the original illustrations. See 60959-h.htm or 60959-h.zip: (http://www.gutenberg.org/files/60959/60959-h/60959-h.htm) or (http://www.gutenberg.org/files/60959/60959-h.zip) Images of the original pages are available through Internet Archive. See https://archive.org/details/cu31924083851547 Transcriber's note: Text enclosed by underscores is in italics (_italics_). Text enclosed by plus signs is in bold face (+bold+). JOHN CHINAMAN ON THE RAND * * * * * * _SOUTH AFRICAN HOTELS_ PORT ELIZABETH (ALGOA BAY) Palmerston Hotel Terminus Road, PORT ELIZABETH Close to Station and Jetty _Best brands of_ ... _WINES, SPIRITS and CIGARS...._ Porters meet all Trains H. HEAD, Proprietor CAPE TOWN. Princess Royal Hotel Corner of Long and Riebeek Sts., _Two Minutes from Railway Station_. CAPE TOWN. Newly Erected Superior Furnished Bedrooms. Fine Balcony Views of Table Bay and Mountain. Excellent Billiard Table (Thurston's Best). Good Attendance. Perfect Sanitary Arrangements. _SPECIAL TERMS FOR RESIDENT BOARDERS._ Visitors from England Up-Country will find Accommodation Unequalled. _S. S. PALMER, Proprietor._ EAST LONDON Hotel National EAST LONDON The most centrally situated Hotel - - in Town - - A First-class, Up-to-date Family and Commercial Hotel Large airy Rooms. Excellent Cuisine. Good Stabling and Billiard Room _Best Wines and Cigars only stocked_ CHAS. COLLINS, Proprietor BLOEMFONTEIN (O.R.C.) _Replete with every Comfort._ EXCELLENT CUISINE. FAMILY AND COMMERCIAL. Polley's Hotel MARKET SQUARE, BLOEMFONTEIN. Perfect Sanitation. Porters meet all trains. Under the personal supervision of the Proprietor, _A. E. POLLEY_. * * * * * * [Illustration: A NEW FORM OF TORTURE. _Frontispiece_] JOHN CHINAMAN ON THE RAND by an English Eye Witness With Introduction by Dr. John Clifford, M.A., Ll.B. And Frontispiece and Four Illustrations London R. A. Everett & Son 10 & 12 Garrick Street, Covent Garden, W.C. 1905 [All rights reserved] Richard Clay & Sons, Limited, Bread Street Hill, E.C., and Bungay, Suffolk. _INTRODUCTION BY DR. JOHN CLIFFORD, M.A., LL.B._ _I have read the following account of the importation of Chinese coolies into South Africa with the keenest pain and sorrow. It is an authentic story of one of the foulest tragedies in our British annals; the witness of one who has seen the facts for himself._ _It is an indictment packed with sifted evidence, written with knowledge; but also with the indignation of the patriot and of the humanitarian, against wrongs wantonly inflicted upon our fellow-men and sanctioned by the Parliament of the Empire. The "balance of evil" is overwhelmingly proved. It is an economic blunder. It is another blood-stained page in the history of the inhumanity of man to man. It violates the domestic and the social ideals. It is a blight upon our Empire; and, chiefest of all, it is inevitably and overwhelmingly immoral; productive of vices and crimes that cannot be named without shame and wrath._ _And yet these foreigners who sell men for gold are declaring that this system must remain "undisturbed." Never! It must go. It is building the Empire on the blood of souls. It is not a "necessity." It is a wanton iniquity. It is not "freedom"; and it is shuffling of the meanest kind to say that it is not "slavery." Let Britishers realize their responsibility and bring to a speedy and final end this return to barbarism!_ _JOHN CLIFFORD._ _The Publishers beg to thank the Editor of the 'Morning Leader' for permission to use the Illustrations contained in this volume._ CONTENTS CHAP. PAGE I. ENSLAVING THE RAND 13 II. 'AVE, CROESUS, MORITURI TE SALUTANT' 27 III. THE YELLOW MEN ON THE RAND 46 IV. THE GROWTH OF TERRORISM 77 V. THE YELLOW TRAIL 98 VI. THE EFFECT OF CHINESE LABOUR. PROMISES AND PERFORMANCES 110 JOHN CHINAMAN ON THE RAND CHAPTER I ENSLAVING THE RAND In the following pages I have made no reference to the founder of the Christian faith. There is a particular form of blasphemy current in Great Britain which ascribes to the highest and noblest Christian motives actions which are prompted by the meanest passions of cupidity and self-interest. Any shadow is good enough for the criminal to creep into in the hope of escaping detection; but blasphemy is not too hard a word to express the attitude of those advocates and supporters of Chinese slavery in the Rand who actually creep under the shadow of the Cross itself for moral protection. With reservations, the Archbishop of Canterbury has blessed the movement, having satisfied himself, with an ease somewhat extraordinary, that it was all above-board and moral. The Bishop of Bristol has commended it. The Rev. T. J. Darragh, Rector of St. Mary's Church, Johannesburg, saw in it nothing but an opportunity to teach the doctrines of Christianity to the heathen. "I am much attracted by the possibility of evangelistic work among those people under very favourable conditions, and I hope to see many of them sent back to their country good practising Christians. It will be a glorious opportunity for the Church." Almost it would seem that the logical conclusion of this estimable priest was that all the heathen nations of Asia should be packed into Lord Selborne's loose-boxes and carted over to Johannesburg in order that the evangelistic genius of the Rector of St. Mary's might have full scope, and countless souls be added to the fold of Christ, so long as their duties of digging gold for German Jews at a shilling a day were not interfered with. As these advocates and supporters of Chinese labour have convinced themselves that the Ordinance, so far from being opposed to the principles of Christianity, is likely to be of use in spreading the doctrine of love, I realize that it would be hopeless to attempt to prove to them that the importation of Chinese to the Rand finds no support in the doctrines promulgated in the four Gospels. Indeed, to expect spiritual ideals on the Rand is too ridiculous for words. The man who searches the Bible for a text to suit his line of argument might perhaps find one for the Rand lords from the Old Testament, and preaching from the sentence that "silver was counted as naught in the days of Solomon" might argue that all practices were justifiable to bring about a state of affairs which apparently had the Divine approval. The ideal of the Rand is money. All imperial, social and religious considerations have no weight with the masters of the gold mines. Their object is to get gold, and to get it as cheaply as they can, and with this in view they realize that they must obtain two things--1. Political control of the Transvaal; 2. Slave labour. To attain the first, all Englishmen, with their democratic ideas of liberty and freedom, must be kept out of the country. This first object attained, the introduction of slave labour would be extremely simple. How they achieved their object is the history of South Africa for the last eight years. As long ago as 1897, when mines were booming and vast fortunes were being made, the leaders of the mining industry suddenly realized by a simple arithmetical calculation that more money could be made if their workmen were paid less. Representations were made to President Kruger, a Government Commission was appointed, and the possibility of reducing the wages of Kaffir workmen was discussed in all its bearings. Mr. George Albu, who was then the chairman of the Chamber of Mines, pointed out that 2s. 3d. a shift was being paid to the Kaffirs, and that this could be reduced to 1s. 6d. a shift for skilled labour and 1s. or less for unskilled labour. When he was asked how this could be accomplished, he replied, "By simply telling the boys that their wages are reduced." Mr. Albu, however, declared that a much better state of affairs would be brought about if a law was passed compelling the Kaffir to do a certain amount of work per annum, though he admitted that nowhere in the world was there a law enabling any particular industry to obtain forced labour. President Kruger's Government--accounted corrupt and irradical in those days, but now regarded by comparison throughout the Transvaal and Orange River Colony by both English and Dutchmen alike as most benevolent and beneficent--refused to sanction a system which would not only have been in opposition to the Conventions with Great Britain of 1852, 1854, and 1884, but would have been opposed to the spirit of humanity that should exist among all civilized communities. Then came the war. The Boer Government was swept away. Two hundred and fifty millions and 21,000 English lives was the price exacted for planting the Union Jack in Pretoria and Bloemfontein. During the war the magnates, with a persistence worthy of a better cause, kept before them those objects which I have enumerated. The consulting engineer of the Consolidated Goldfields reported to a meeting of mining representatives at Cape Town that dividends could be increased by two and a half millions by reducing Kaffir wages, and it was agreed that on the opening of the mines Kaffirs' wages should be reduced by 33 per cent. When peace came it was found that the Kaffirs were not prepared to work on these terms. They had grown rich during the war, and in the independence of their new-found wealth they refused to be treated as so much human machinery. It was bad enough for them to work at their original wages in the Rand mines, without their consenting to such a large reduction in their wages. The rate of mortality in the Rand mines was seventy per thousand per annum; the rate of mortality in the De Beers mines was only thirty per thousand per annum. The De Beers never had any difficulty in obtaining what native labour they required, because they treated their men well, looked after their interests, did not sweat them, and admitted that a black man, although black, was still a man. But even under these circumstances, had the magnates of the Rand offered the scale of wages that pertained before the war, they would have found black labour in abundance. But even with a black man a minimum of 30s. and a maximum of 35s. a month with food is hardly tempting enough to draw him from his kraal. The alternative of white labour was, of course, never seriously considered. The mere Englishman who had fought for the country was not to be allowed to settle in the country or to work in the country. The Angots, the Beits, the Ecksteins, the Hanaus, the Kuchenmeisters, the Rosenheims, the Schencks, the Taubs, the Wernhers, and the rest of the gentlemen delighting in similar grand old English names were determined not to permit it. The foolish Englishman would want to vote; would have ideas about personal liberty and personal freedom; would have ridiculous notions about Magna Charta and the Bill of Rights; would, in short, think that the nation that had spilt its blood and spent its money for the Rand was entitled to a vote in its management. With almost unparalleled insolence the Rand lords frankly declared that the introduction of English labour would place the control of the country in the hands of Englishmen, and would lead to that trail of the serpent, the formation of labour unions. It was to meet with this that two hundred and fifty millions was spent by the English people, 25,000 died, 25,000 were permanently maimed. That white labour could be used, and be used profitably, was proved beyond a doubt. Even when the higher wages were taken into account, it was found that in the cyanide works of the gold mines the Kaffirs' cost per ton was 5s. 3d., against the Whites' 4s. 9d. In developing and stopping actual work of the mining underground, the Kaffirs cost 4s. 8d. and the Whites 4s. 2d. per ton. It was only in the machine drill work that the Kaffirs proved slightly cheaper than the Whites. There Kaffir labour worked out at 6s. 4d. per ton, white labour at 6s. 9d.; a difference of 5d. per ton, so small a difference as to be almost a negligible quantity. It was not until later that any pretence was put forward that white labour could not be employed. The real reason, and the reason frankly admitted, was the fear of the political power they would possess. Mr. F. H. P. Cresswell, general manager of the Village Main Reef, worked his mine upon a system of joint black and white labour, and the mine returned a dividend of 35 per cent. for the year 1903 and 20 per cent. for the first half of 1904. In the report upon the working of this mine it was declared that the efficiency of the mine was increasing, and the output greater, while the working cost was lower. This was proof conclusive that white labour could be employed in the mines if the magnates wished to employ it. That they did not wish to employ it is proved beyond the shadow of doubt by a letter from the late Mr. Percy Tarbutt, of St. Swithin's Lane, to Mr. Cresswell-- "DEAR MR. CRESSWELL,--With reference to your trial of white labour for surface work on the mines, I have consulted the Consolidated Goldfields people, and one of the members of the board of the Village Main Reef has consulted Messrs. Wernher, Beit & Co., and the feeling seems to be of fear that, having a large number of white men employed on the Rand in the position of labourers, the same troubles will arise as are now prevalent in the Australian colonies, viz. that the combination of the labour classes will become so strong as to be able, more or less, to dictate not only on the question of wages, but also on political questions, by the power of their votes when a representative Government is established." Foiled in their attempt to get cheap black labour, threatened with an inundation of Englishmen, the cosmopolitan Rand lords tried to obtain the slaves they required from Central Africa. This was not a success. It was admitted by a speaker at a commercial meeting in Johannesburg in July 1903 that various experiments had been tried to get native labour, and that the best results had been obtained at the Robinson Deep, which paid 25 per cent. dividend. "They imported 316 natives from Central Africa only three weeks ago. So far only eight had died--(laughter)--but there were 150 in the hospital, and by the end of the month the whole will be in hospital. (Hear, hear.) They were coming in at the rate of thirty a day. These men cost £30 a head, and were not worth a 'bob' a head when they arrived. (Cheers.)" What were the mine lords to do? If only they were allowed they were quite prepared to employ slaves. Their amazing reduction in wages had not induced the Kaffir to come to the Rand. In the words of the native chief the natives did not like to go to Johannesburg, "because they went there to die." The majority at the Labour Commission had proved that if good wages and treatment were extended to the Kaffirs, hosts of natives would flock to the mines. But the Rand lords cared nothing about kindness, and they were determined to reduce wages. It was at this juncture that the question of Chinese indentured labour was seriously mooted. The black men were tired of being carted about in trucks, and herded like cattle, and beaten and maimed for life without any chance of compensation. It was said that the Chinaman was docile and tractable, and would work for practically nothing, with extremely little food, for as many hours as he might be requested. Chinese labour, therefore, it was decided to obtain. But the Rand lords had to proceed with guile. They did this country the credit to believe that any hasty determination to import thousands of Chinamen would have met with an outburst of popular indignation against which they could not have hoped to have stood firm. Forming a pretty accurate estimate of the leading passions that guide men's minds they determined to appeal to the cupidity of the Englishman at home. Their press began to pour forth a torrent of sobs over the lamentable decay of the gold industry in the Transvaal. The country was ruined, they said; the industry had gone to pieces. For ridiculous considerations of hypocritical morality the Rand, for which Great Britain had sacrificed so much, was to be made bankrupt. In a word, it was bankruptcy--or Chinese. They found many powerful supporters in this country. The trail of their wealth was on a section of the press, and that section echoed whatever principles it might please the cosmopolitan gentlemen of Johannesburg to give voice to. Even now one can recall the despairing moans of leader writers over the ruin that had overtaken the Transvaal. This was in June 1903. Somewhat unexpectedly Lord Milner at this juncture refused to echo the gloomy forebodings of the Witwatersrand Chamber of Mines; in fact, his tone was joyously optimistic. "The production of gold," he said, "even now is greater than in 1895 or 1896, when the Transvaal really was, and had been for some time, the marvel of the world in the matter of gold production. The world progresses; but whatever was fabulous wealth years ago is not abject poverty to-day. Not only that, but the rate of production is steadily increasing." What he said was quite right. The output of gold in the district of Johannesburg in 1900 was 237,000 ozs., and there were 59,400 Kaffirs employed. But for six months the agitation continued. It was put forward as a theory that the only chance for the Transvaal was to employ Chinese labour. The supporters of the Rand lords hailed the theory with delight, as if it was something new, something that they had never imagined before. Clearly this was the direction in which prosperity lay. They must have Chinese labour. Then shares would go up, dividends would become enormous, and everybody would be wealthy and happy. The Transvaal would be something like a Mohammedan heaven, with Great Britain as an annexe. White men were to pour out to the colonies--not to labour on the mines, for that work was only fit for Chinamen; besides, white men it was said could not do it--and the Rand was to be prosperous and life was to be a veritable bed of roses. Was England to be denied the fruits of her victory? For what had the war been waged if the Transvaal was to be left a barren, unproductive corner of the Empire? Were the fruits of victory to be Dead Sea apples? By such arguments did they appeal to the British public. The dummy figure of despair and ruin that they had set up served a very useful purpose. It frightened the monied classes into the belief that their investments were not secure. It frightened the patriots into thinking that the war had been waged in vain. Few people troubled to make inquiries as to whether the statement of the Rand's impending ruin was true or not. There certainly was a slump in Kaffir shares. This was held to be indicative of the state of the gold industry. It apparently did not occur to anybody that just as Kaffir shares were made to fluctuate during the war--when the mines were not being worked--so they could be made to slump if only the Rand lords wished. In six months they convinced the majority of the House of Commons, they convinced the Government, and they even made Lord Milner eat his own words. His dispatches began to take on a garb of gloom. In August they were of the mitigated grief shade; in September the shade darkened; in October it was more than half mourning; in November it had become black; in December it was as black as the Egyptian plague. His lordship talked of crises; of what would happen unless some noble, national sacrifice was made to save the sinking ship. Chinese labour was the only cure for the deplorable condition of the gold industry in the Transvaal! Meanwhile, a Labour Commission had been appointed, a mission consisting of ten persons, eight of whom were known to be in favour of the introduction of Asiatic labour. This Commission was authorized to find out whether a scarcity of Kaffir or white labour existed, but was forbidden to answer the question which was in the minds of all, whether it would be proper or desirable to introduce Chinese labour. The agitation proved successful, and it was decided to import Chinese labour. The grave disasters attendant on the impending crisis Lord Milner insisted in his dispatches in December 1903 had to be met. It is curious, of course, to compare the statement of Lord Milner in December 1903 with his statement in June 1903. In June the output of gold was 237,000 ozs., and according to Lord Milner everything was satisfactory. The production of gold, in his own words, was greater than in 1895 or 1896. Six months later, in December, the output was 286,000 ozs., an increase of 49,000 ozs. Yet, according to Lord Milner, the prosperity of the gold industry was in inverse proportion to the output of gold! Two hundred and thirty-seven thousand ounces per month was prosperity in June; 286,000 ozs. in December was grave disaster, and the rest of it. Moreover, in those golden days of June 1903 there were 59,400 Kaffir labourers working on the mines. In that dark, cheerless December, when the output of gold had increased 49,000 ozs., and the gold industry was rapidly sinking back into the pit of gloom and disaster, the number of labourers employed was 68,800, being an increase of 9400--or 15 per cent. Moreover, in this terrible, deplorable month the production of gold was greater than it had ever been before, except during that period between the beginning of 1898 and the commencement of the war. As to the question of labour, the production per labourer per month in December 1903 was 4 ozs. of gold. In 1899 it was only 3·4 ozs.; that is to say, it had been increased by the use of machinery by one-seventh, so that six labourers in December 1903 were equal to seven labourers in the golden period before the war. Actually, therefore, those 68,800 labourers were doing the work of 80,262 labourers, and were doing it at wages 33 per cent. less than they were before the war. But this was not prosperity. The dividends were not large enough. The report of the consulting engineer of the Consolidated Goldfields still rang in the ear of the Rand lords. "Cut down the wages 33 per cent. and you will add two and a half millions to the dividends." An unlimited number of Kaffirs would not come to the mines under these conditions; they would not submit to bad wages as well as bad treatment. White men would combine to manage the country and to take the political power out of the hands of the Rand lords. "If we could replace 20,000 workers by 100,000 unskilled whites," said one of the directors, "they would simply hold the government of the country in the hollow of their hand; and without any disparagement to the British labourer, I prefer to see the more intellectual section of the community at the helm." Hence the gloomy picture painted of the gold industry in that December 1903. Hence the slump in the Kaffir market. Hence that cry that native labour would not come and that whites could not do the work. Hence that more ominous cry that Chinese labourers must be employed. The Transvaal was not to be for Englishmen. It was to be governed by the intellectual genius of Mr. Rudd and his bevy of German Jews and non-British Gentiles. Even if white labour was economically possible the Rand lords did not want it. It _was_ possible--it _was_ economical. But they wanted labour that would be _voteless_ and _subservient_! CHAPTER II 'AVE, CROESUS, MORITURI TE SALUTANT' "The problem is a very urgent problem. The necessity of going forward is an urgent and vital necessity in the economical condition of the country. I will tell the House why in a sentence. The mines are 30,000 natives short of the number engaged in the pre-war period." These were the words subsequently used by Mr. Lyttelton, the Colonial Secretary. The matter _was_ urgent. Already protests were pouring in from every part of the Empire. Imperial meetings, white league meetings, anti-slavery meetings, political meetings--all the machinery, in short, of protest and obstruction was being got under weigh, and to the Rand lords it seemed as if the ideal of slavery for which they had struggled so long and so hard was to be denied them at the last hour. The anguish of Sir Lancelot when a vision of the Holy Grail was denied him after all his trials and tribulations was not greater or more poignant than the trepidation of the mine owners. It became, indeed, a very urgent problem for them, for unless they could bring the matter to a head, not even the strongest Government of the century could hope to withstand the popular will when once it was organized sufficiently to voice its petition loudly enough. But of economical necessities there were none. It was natural after such a devastating war that some time should elapse before the mines could get into full working order and attain that wonderful output of gold which prevailed immediately before the outbreak of hostilities. The progress of the gold industry after the war had to be gradual; but so far from it being depressed or showing signs of being stagnant, it had, as I have already shown, increased enormously. Already it was within measurable distance of the output of the pre-war period. The economical necessity was not the necessity of importing cheap labour, but the necessity of paying a proper wage to the Kaffir and of treating him well. Already Dr. Jameson, who in no sense was a partisan opponent of the Rand capitalists, had declared in November 1903 that the De Beers Company would not employ Chinamen--that they had plenty of labour, white and black, because they treated their people well. But the Rand mine owners not only did not pay their Kaffirs a proper wage, but meted out to them such treatment that the death-rate among them had increased since 1902 to an extent which, to express it in mild terms, was appalling. I quote the figures below-- NATIVE MORTALITY ON MINES IN JOHANNESBURG, KRUGERSDORP, BOKSBURG, GERMISTON, AND SPRINGS. Period: November 1902--July 1903. No. of Death-rate During the Month. Natives No. of per 1000 Employed. Deaths. per annum. November 1902 46,710 247 63·4 December " 48,542 324 80·90 January 1903 49,761 253 61·01 February " 55,288 207 44·9 March " 57,022 235 49·4 April " 62,265 269 51·8 May " 65,371 431 79·1 June " 68,819 492 85·7 July " 70,474 627 106·7 Average number of natives employed per month 58,250 Average number of deaths per month 343 Average death-rate per 1000 per annum per month 70·6 This was the economical necessity that should have occupied the attention of his Majesty's Government, and not the question of introducing Chinese indentured labour into the colony. That the mine owners have successfully baulked in the past all inquiry as to their treatment of natives is proved conclusively by the fact that even these statistics did not draw forth a commission from the Government to inquire into such a terrible state of affairs. Instead of the question being, "Why is it Kaffirs die at the rate of seventy per thousand per month?" the problem they set themselves was how to provide an alternative to these quick-dying wage-wanting niggers. Attempts had been made to procure coolie labour from India, and Lord Curzon never did a greater or a nobler thing than when he refused the sanction of his Government to such a step. Mr. Chamberlain said in the Commons that Lord Curzon should have been overruled; an inexplicable remark from a man who had had the courage to say to the miners that it was better they should be governed from Downing Street than from Park Lane. In December 1903 General Ben Viljeon informed a labour commissioner that a petty chief had told him recently that if he sent 100 boys to the Rand only 66 returned, and some of them had scurvy. It was not wonderful, therefore, that black labour was scarce; but it was wonderful that his Majesty's Government did not take steps to put an end to a state of things which they must have known to be terrible, instead of merely substituting for the ill-used, underpaid, criminally-treated but free labouring Kaffirs Chinamen who were to be nothing better than slaves. But the drawing up of the draft Ordinance went forward. It was hurried on at an incredible rate. Until the last minute it was kept back from Parliament, and the Blue-book dealing with the alleged necessities for introducing yellow labour was only placed in the hands of the members of the House of Commons a few days before Mr. Herbert Samuel moved his famous amendment to the King's Address--"It is highly inexpedient that sanction should be given to any Ordinance permitting the introduction of indentured Chinese labourers into the Transvaal Colony until the approval of the colonists has been formally ascertained." At one end of the cable sat Lord Milner, pricked on by the Rand lords, at the other end sat the Colonial Secretary, anxious to be fair, anxious to be humane, anxious to do nothing contrary to the historic principles of British rule, but bemused by the clamour of the Transvaal, and seeing in the protests against the Ordinance only party moves and party partisanship. The clamour for the Ordinance increased day by day. Sir H. Campbell-Bannerman had managed to extract a pledge from the Government, by which Lord Milner was instructed to introduce into the Ordinance a clause suspending its operation pending further instructions from home. But it was pointed out that the matter was of such great urgency that his Majesty's Government could not undertake to postpone their decision longer than the termination of the debate on the Address. As a matter of fact, they had already made up their minds. It was stated that if a colony desired Chinese labour it was not for the Imperial Parliament to interfere. To have done so would have been contrary to the traditions of Imperial Government. But when Mr. Herbert Samuel asked that the Ordinance should not be permitted until the approval of the colonists in the Transvaal had been formally obtained by the natural expedient of a referendum, Lord Milner asserted that to hold a referendum was impossible--it would occupy too much time, that at any rate it was an expedient unknown in any part of the British Empire. As a matter of fact, a referendum has been put in practice in South Australia, in New Zealand, in New South Wales, and was used more recently to decide upon the important question of the Australian Commonwealth. That it would have occupied six months to take such a referendum, during which period the gold of the Transvaal would have vanished, everybody would have refused to work, and the Kaffir market would have been blotted out, was preposterous. Yet, at the moment when Lord Milner made this statement, a census of the colony was taken, which only occupied seven weeks. It is not unreasonable to assume that such a referendum would have occupied more than a month. All the arguments of the Opposition were in vain against such plausibility. It was useless to point out that while the educated Chinese were good citizens, the bitter experience of Australia, Canada, the United States and New Zealand proved conclusively that the uneducated Chinamen, wherever they went, were vicious, immoral and unclean, hated by the white man, loathed and feared by every decent white woman. The Government admitted the danger of allowing 50,000 Chinamen to be planted down in a colony without any restrictions. Their introduction was a regrettable necessity; and so it was proposed to keep them in compounds, to round them up every night like sheep, to make them liable to heavy penalties if they wandered abroad without a permit. This was the only way, they declared, in which these necessary evils could be used. Of the necessity of utilizing the evil at all they were convinced, and no argument succeeded in shaking their faith. It was pointed out to them that this would be semi-slavery, if not indeed actual slavery. The Chinaman was not to be employed in any position but that of a miner; he could not improve his position; he could not give notice to one employer and go to another. He could never leave the compound without permission. If he struck work he could be imprisoned. He was bound to reside on the premises of his employer, in charge of a manager appointed for the purpose. Permission to leave these premises might or might not be granted; but in any case he could never be absent for more than forty-eight hours at a time. If he escaped, he could be tracked down, arrested without a warrant and imprisoned by a magistrate, while anybody who harboured or concealed him was fined £50, or imprisoned in default of payment. The Ordinance was without parallel in the Empire. Because the Chinese were competitors, because they were a moral and social danger, the supporters of the Ordinance were compelled to devise some system under which it could become law in the Transvaal, and by which they could yet prevent any one of the Chinamen brought in being able at any time to leave his employment and turn to other and more profitable undertakings. Only a casuist could call this anything else but slavery. One of our most unsuccessful ministers tried to find a parallel between this system and the life of our soldiers--a parallel so bright and so pleasing that no one, I think, has yet attempted to spoil the bloom of this flower of grim humour by disclosing its absurdity. The Transvaal Government had, in fact, gone to the statute books of the slave states of America for a model for their Ordinance. It was soon seen and realized that any attempt to negative the Ordinance must prove abortive. All that the Opposition could do was to render it as innocuous as possible, and to secure as many guarantees as they could for the proper moral and physical treatment of the unfortunate Chinamen. They extracted pledges and promises galore, most of which have been completely broken. On March 21, 1904, Mr. Lyttelton, after stating that the average Kaffir wage was 50s. for thirty days' work, made this statement in the House of Commons--"Chinamen would receive in the Transvaal at least 2s. a day. I stand here and give the House my assurance that the Chinese will receive at least the amount I have specified." At that time, when this well-meaning pledge was made, the Kaffir was only receiving 33s. per month. But even had he been receiving 50s. a month, which Mr. Lyttelton in his ignorance imagined, was it at all likely that the Rand owner would pay the Chinaman 2s. a day, or 60s. a month, that is to say, 10s. a month more than they were presumably paying the Kaffirs? Of course, the mine magnates were not going to pay the Chinaman more than the 33s. they were paying the Kaffir. Mr. Lyttelton's pledge was summarily disposed of by Lord Milner and the mine owners. After at first insisting on a minimum of 1s. a day instead of 2s., Lord Milner finally made this plausible promise, that if within six months the average pay was not more than 50s. for thirty days' work, the minimum should be raised from 1s. to 1s. 6d. a day. Mr. Lyttelton's maximum of 2s. a day was thus reduced to a possible minimum of 1s. 6d. a day. Another delightful pledge was also given. It seemed almost indeed as if the Transvaal Government were continually advising Lord Milner to cable, saying, "Promise anything in heaven or earth, but let's get this Ordinance through." With somewhat unusual consideration, the opinion of the Chinese Government had been asked on the subject. Speaking through their ambassador, the Chinese Government insisted that the immigrant should have free access to the courts of justice to obtain redress for injury to his personal property. On March 10, 1904, Mr. Lyttelton stated that the Chinese labourers would have the same right of access to the courts as all the other subjects of his Majesty's dominions. Any subject of his Majesty's dominions has the right to appear before a court when he has any grievance. That is the right of all subjects of his Majesty's dominions. The Chinaman, according to Mr. Lyttelton, was to have the same right. As a matter of fact, he has no right of access to the courts, except by leave of an inspector. Again, Mr. Lyttelton declared, when the Chinese Government raised the point of flogging, that there was no power in the Ordinance to impose flogging. There was not at that time. But four months later, on July 28, an Ordinance was assented to by which the resident magistrate had the right to flog in cases where the conviction was a conviction of robbery, in cases of any statutory offence for which flogging could be only given for the second conviction, in cases of assault of a grave character or intended to do serious bodily harm, or, indeed, to commit any offence. I shall deal later in detail with the punishments that have been inflicted on the yellow slaves that work in their slavery under the Union Jack. It is at present only my object to outline the policy of promising anything and making all sorts of preposterous pledges in order that the clamours of the Rand lords might be gratified. In Johannesburg they knew well that if once indentured labour was agreed to in principle, it would be easy to make what alterations they wished in the spirit or the letter of the Ordinance. In February 1904 Mr. Lyttelton stated with regard to the importation of women with the Chinese--"We are advised in this matter by men of the most experience in the whole Empire on the subject of Chinese labour. We are advised that the coolies would not go without their womenfolk. Manifestly it would be wrong that they should go without their womenfolk if they were desirous of taking them with them." To quiet the lethargic conscience of that adept courtier, his Grace the Archbishop of Canterbury, it was declared that the interests of public morality demanded that the Chinamen should be accompanied by their wives, and that this was one of the essential conditions of the Ordinance. It was pointed out at the time that once the mine owners had 5000 indentured labourers, they would not take upon themselves the burden of supporting their wives, with an average of three children apiece. It would mean 250,000 women and children. And it is almost inconceivable that even Mr. Lyttelton could have imagined that the cosmopolitan proprietors of the Transvaal would have taken upon themselves the superintendence of human beings utterly incapable of dragging gold from the earth. As a matter of fact, Chinese have never taken their wives into foreign countries, and therefore the moral question, which so concerned Dr. Davidson for one brief day, was not settled. As a matter of fact, it was stated at the beginning of this year by the Colonial Secretary that while 4895 wives were registered as accompanying their husbands, only two women and twelve children had actually been brought over! It was stated by Mr. Lyttelton, at the same time as he satisfied the conscience of the most Reverend Primate, that the Chinaman would be so well fed and so lightly worked that in the interests of morality it was physically necessary that he should be accompanied by his wife. In explaining the fact that only two women and twelve children had accompanied the thirty or forty thousand Chinamen up to the beginning of 1905, the Colonial Secretary remarked in effect that this fact would not lead to immorality, because the Chinaman's food was so frugal and his work was so steady that he would be almost physically incapable of those passions which are a source of so much trouble, of so much crime, of so much happiness, and of so much beneficence to the white man, the black man, the red man, and the brown man. Life under the Rand lords, in short, was practically emasculating, and therefore immorality was impossible. I shall deal with this subject later on. For the present I will point out that this was the fourth pledge that had been given in the House of Commons, only to be broken, not, I admit, by Mr. Lyttelton and the Government, but by their masters, the mine owners on the Rand. The Opposition steadily opposed the Government in the House. Major Seely and Mr. Winston Churchill left the Conservative Party, Major Seely resigning his seat to test the temper of his constituents in the Isle of Wight on this very subject. The electors in the Isle of Wight were of no uncertain temper. They returned Major Seely to the House, thereby proving, as all subsequent by-elections have proved, that the Chinese Labour Ordinance is bitterly opposed by the vast majority of freedom-loving Britons. It had been the custom during the war to submit very largely to the opinion of the colonies. In fact, the influence of colonial opinion had partly directed the policy of the Government for several years. Mr. Chamberlain constantly submitted to it, before, during, and after the war. He had based his bold venture of Tariff Reform on this very opinion. It was because the colonies would think this or would say that, that the British workman was to submit to a tax upon corn, a tax upon clothes, a tax upon everything else. It was reasonable to expect, therefore, that on such an important Imperial question, touching the welfare of a colony, to possess which the whole of the Empire had risen in arms, and men had poured from the snows of Canada and the rolling plains of the Bush, the opinions of the Five Nations would have been consulted. But even if the Government did not submit to this recognition of their services, to this acceptance of a common Imperial interest, it was only natural to have supposed that they would have at least taken into account the advice of Canada, Australia, and New Zealand, who had experienced the evils of Chinese immigration. I have travelled all over the Orange River Colony, Natal, Cape Colony, and the Transvaal, and the colonial people and the Dutch were all unanimously against the introduction of the Chinese on the Rand. I have never yet met one person in favour of the Ordinance. And since the Ordinance became law, and the yellow slaves began their work at the mines, nearly every person I have met in South Africa has openly regretted the war, and declared that they preferred the days of Paul Kruger, whose Government may have been corrupt, but was at any rate based on the principle that it is the duty of a white government to look after the moral and social welfare of its white subjects. Mr. Chamberlain himself declared that there was considerable indignation expressed throughout South Africa at the proposal to introduce Chinese labour, and that a vast majority of the people throughout South Africa were bitterly opposed to the Ordinance. The colonies were not slow in sending passionate protests to the Colonial Office against the Ordinance. Mr. Seddon wired--"My Government desire to protest against the proposal to introduce Chinese labour into South Africa. They foresee that great dangers, racial, social and political, would inevitably be introduced by Chinese influx, however stringent the conditions of introduction and employment may be." Mr. Deakin, the Premier of Australia, declared that Australia had been told that the war was a miners' war, but not for Chinese miners; a war for the franchise, but not for Chinese franchise. The truth, if it had been told, would have presented a very different aspect, and would have made a very different appeal to Australia. Cape Colony, which was more intimately concerned with the welfare of the Transvaal than any other portion of the Empire, passed a resolution in the Cape Parliament, "That this House, taking cognizance of the resolution passed at the recent Conference held at Bloemfontein on the subject of the qualified approval of the importation of Asiatic labour, desires to express its strong opposition to any such importation as prejudicial to the interests of all classes of people in South Africa." This last resolution had been sent to the Government as long before as July 1903, when the first steps were being taken to pave the way for yellow slavery. But of all these protests the Government took no notice whatever. They met all questions with a statement that the Transvaal was to be allowed to decide on its own internal affairs; and when the Opposition demanded that the opinion of the Transvaal should be taken, so that these principles could be carried into effect, they replied that a referendum, the only means of ascertaining this opinion, would take six months, during which time the Transvaal would be ruined. Never was the logic of any of the characters in _Alice in Wonderland_ so unanswerable. In the Transvaal itself loud and indignant protests were made against the proposal. But the Rand lords asserted their supremacy with ruthless severity. The _Transvaal Leader_, the _Transvaal Advertiser_, and the Johannesburg _Star_ all opposed the introduction of Asiatic labour. Their respective editors, Mr. R. J. Pakeman, Mr. J. Scoble, and Mr. Monypenny, were compelled to resign because they refused to sacrifice their opinions for their proprietors. Some idea of the pressure that was brought to bear, may be seen in the valedictory editorial which Mr. Monypenny wrote on retiring from the editorship of the Johannesburg _Star_:-- "To the policy of Chinese immigration, to which the Chamber of Mines has decided to devote its energies, the present editor of the _Star_ remains resolutely opposed, and declines in any way to identify himself with such an experiment. To the ideal of a white South Africa, which, to whatever qualifications it may necessarily be subject, is something very different from the ideal of a Chinese South Africa, he resolutely clings, with perfect faith that whatever its enemies may do to-day that ideal will inevitably prevail. But as the financial houses which control the mining industry of the Transvaal have for the present enrolled themselves among its enemies the present editor of the _Star_ withdraws." It is not difficult to read between the lines here and see the determination of the mining magnates to crush every opposition to their will. Mr. Cresswell, who had stood out for white labour on the Village Main Reef mine, and had proved conclusively that white labour could be employed at a profit greater than that at which black labour was employed, was compelled to resign his general managership. Mr. Wybergh, Commissioner of Mines, and for long a distinguished servant of the Government, had dared to protest against Chinese serfdom, and was forced also to resign. Every day it became more clear that the Transvaal was to be no place for an Englishman. The white man's blood and the white man's treasure may have been spent to win it for the one-time flag of freedom, but the Englishman was not to make his home or earn his living upon the land. "We want no white proletariat," Lord Milner had said. But the magnates did not stop at merely coercing the press. Indignation meetings were held at Cape Town and Kimberley, and they employed men to break them up at 15s. per head. At a meeting at Johannesburg, held by the African Labour League, it was arranged that a proposal should be put to the vote deploring the importation of Asiatics, and protesting against the action of the Government, and demanding a referendum in the colony. At this meeting several men were present, paid by a certain Mr. B. of Johannesburg to create a disturbance. Their efforts were so successful, they shouted so long "You want the Chinese," that the meeting became an uproar, and the speakers were unable to be heard. But all protests were unavailing and futile. All opposition was considered as a party move. The cry of "Yellow slavery" was attributed to shameless Radical tactics. The Liberal Party, it was said, would stoop to anything with which to besmirch the fair name of the Conservative Party. The Ordinance passed the House after having been debated at length. It has since been altered in some of its most important details, thereby emphasizing the fact that in permitting the question to be debated in the House the Government only regarded the discussion as a sham. But even in the Conservative Party there were men whose consciences pricked them over the Ordinance. One old respected member, who has recently died, declared privately on the day that the vote was taken that for the first time in his life he had voted against his conscience, at the urgent instance of the Conservative whips. He for one realized, when it was too late, that the introduction of the Chinese on the Rand was--as Mr. Asquith lately remarked at Leven--"a most gigantic and short-sighted blunder." CHAPTER III THE YELLOW MEN ON THE RAND "It must be admitted that the lot of the Chinese labourer does not promise to be very gay or very happy from our point of view" (extract from _The Times_). Experience has shown that it is not economical to employ Chinese under the only conditions in which public opinion will allow them to be used, that is, under semi-servile conditions. This was the experience of all other parts of the Empire, but it was the last thing to have any weight with the mine owners. Their one idea of economy was to get labour cheap. If you deduct 33 to 40 per cent. from the money that has to be paid in wages, that 33 to 40 per cent. is money saved--is money which will go to swell the dividends to an amount, so it had been estimated, of two and a half millions. The simplicity of this calculation should have given them pause. Financiers, at least, should be aware that nothing is so untrustworthy as the abstract profit and loss account. Men who had used figures to such good advantage should have understood that while on paper the difference between the price paid to the Chinese and the price paid to the white or black labourer was profit, in actual practice it would prove nothing of the sort. The mine owners have learnt this lesson by now. They have discovered that Chinese labour is an economical failure. But in the summer of 1904 they were all eagerness for the coming of the yellow man. To their imaginations these men were to be nothing better than slaves. They were to work as long as they wanted them to work at prices which they would settle themselves. Craftily-concocted laws enabled them to bring the same sort of brutal pressure to bear upon the yellow man as the slave owner of old brought upon the black man. He could be fined, flogged, driven, coerced by all means to tear the gold from the bowels of the earth at whatever rate the masters might wish. They had treated the black men pretty much as they liked. But the black men had the knack of dying in thousands under such treatment (thereby, as I have already noted, affording hearty amusement for gatherings of the Chamber of Mines), or of throwing up their work and going back to their native kraals. The Rand lord had not had complete control of the black man. Foolish people at home, influenced by what Lord Milner once called Exeter Hall sentiments, had insisted that the black man must possess those personal rights of liberty and freedom which, until recently, were given to all races who paid allegiance to the Sovereign of the British Dominions beyond the Seas. For the first time the mine owner was to have forty to fifty thousand men who were to live under strict surveillance in a sort of prison yard, who were to be absolutely at his mercy and at his will, who were to work every day of the week, Sundays included--the evangelizing enterprise of the Rector of St. Mary's, Johannesburg, did not seem to have run to indoctrinating the Rand lords or their slaves with the principles of the Fourth Commandment--who were to be forced into doing whatsoever their masters wished by all sorts of ingenious punishments and penalties. They of course forgot the all-important factor in this dream of theirs that a Chinaman will willingly consent to an arrangement which, as _The Times_ admitted, would make their lot neither very gay nor very happy. But none the less this was the spirit in which the Chinaman was recruited in China and first treated on his arrival. Quite the most frivolous of all the pledges given by Mr. Lyttelton on behalf of the Rand lords, was one in which he solemnly declared that to every Chinese labourer recruited from his native land the Ordinance would be carefully explained by the recruiting officer. I do not recollect that the House of Commons was moved to an outburst of Olympian mirth at this most ridiculous statement. If I recollect aright, the statement was received with that solemn British expression of approval, "Hear, hear!" "The Ordinance," said Mr. Lyttelton, "will be explained carefully to each labourer before he consents to embark for South Africa." Now, the Ordinance is a long and complicated document. It would be impossible to explain it to the most intelligent Chinaman in under an hour. Actually, it would probably take him a whole day to completely understand the sort of life he was going to lead on the Rand. For one man to explain the Ordinance to 40,000 of them would have taken about nine years. At the recruiting offices established in China for the purpose of obtaining these yellow slaves, it would have taken at least three years to make all the forty to fifty thousand Chinamen still working on the Rand to thoroughly understand the Ordinance. This was a _reductio ad absurdum_ argument, which one would have thought must have occurred to the minds of the Government, but if it did occur to them they kept it in the background with due solemnity. Seeing that the recruiting and sending over to South Africa of more than 40,000 Chinamen occupied less than a year, it is clear that this pretence of allowing the Chinaman to enter upon his engagement with the Rand lords with his eyes open was a pretence, and nothing else. But even if the simplest arithmetical calculation failed to convince the Government, their knowledge of human nature should have made them realize the absurdity of imagining that the recruiting of these men would be carried out on such principles. The recruiter, whether for the Army, or for any other purpose, is very much like a barrister with a brief. He has only to see one side of the argument; he has to close his mind firmly to all considerations other than the fact that it is his duty to get men for the particular purpose for which he is recruiting. Whoever found the recruiting-sergeant telling an embryo Tommy Atkins about the hardships of a life in the Army, of the punishments to which he renders himself liable, of the powers of a court-martial, and the like? He only tells him of the splendid chance he has of serving his King and country; of his handsome uniform; of the influence of that uniform on the female breast, and the like. I have met men who have recruited in South Africa for the Philippines, who have recruited in England for revolutionary committees for some of the South American republics, and I know that the one picture that these men do not paint to their recruits is the picture of their possible hardships. If the white recruiter acts like this to men of his own colour, how was he likely to act towards men of a different colour whom centuries of traditional prejudice led him to regard with contempt and dislike? I am convinced that ninety-nine out of every hundred of the Chinamen at present working on the Rand neither knew then nor know now the exact terms on which they were brought from their homes. Again, it is well known that the Chinaman has a hereditary dislike to forfeiting his freedom of action. However bad his Government may be, he has the same instinct for freedom as the white man in Great Britain. All the best authorities on China agree that he would never of his own free-will have consented to bind himself to the Rand lords on the terms set forth in the Ordinance. What happened, of course, was that the Chinese local authorities, when asked to assist in the recruiting of men for the Rand, made out a list of all the wastrels, semi-criminals and hooligans who kept their Governments in a state of anarchy and unrest, and forced these men to indenture themselves. In fact, the situation on the Rand is very much as if we had emptied our prisons and turned out all our thieves, murderers and hooligans loose on the veld. One cannot blame the Chinese Government for so acting. It is a proof rather that that ancient empire still retains, amidst a great deal that is bad and corrupt, a spirit of elementary justice. It would have been criminal to have sent Chinese citizens to the Transvaal. It was quite another matter to send batches of criminals. The ease with which men were recruited and shipped to the Transvaal seemed to confirm the Rand lords in their delusion that at last they had got hold of people who would increase their dividends for them without demanding rights and privileges. _The Times_ had called them masculine machinery. Lord Selborne had said that they would be crammed in loose-boxes and taken over. When at first the long procession of pigtails and blue shirts appeared at Johannesburg they certainly seemed to be so much masculine machinery, so much cattle to be crammed into cattle-trucks at one port and unshipped at another. But all delusions or illusions were soon destroyed. It was found that the Chinaman actually thought for himself; that he had a sense of fair play, and that he was not prepared to work like a horse for a shilling or so a day. The compounds in which these yellow slaves were herded together are pieces of land in close proximity to the mine, surrounded by a high fence, guarded by armed police. They look exactly what in fact they are--prisons, and nothing else. Hospitals have been erected in each of the compounds, and an ample supply of gods have been procured for the Chinamen, possibly as a set-off to the evangelistical zeal of the Rector of St. Mary's, for there is no knowing what a Chinaman might do if he became thoroughly inculcated with the doctrines of love and mercy which were preached in the Sermon on the Mount. The compound in other respects is very like a village. No one can go into this village unless he has got some special business or has obtained a permit. These restrictions serve a double purpose. They prevent the possibility of a white man or a white woman being insulted by the slaves, and also put a check upon that inquiry into the treatment of the yellow men which the Rand lords are moving heaven and earth to baulk. The huts in which labourers live are identical with those made for Kaffirs. They hold one or two, as the case may be. The labourers have to work day and night in shifts of eight hours. When it is time for a batch of labourers to begin their shift, they are herded together and marched off to the mine, care being taken to keep them quite apart from the Kaffirs and whites. At the pit mouth they are driven into the cage and dropped down into the bowels of the earth. When the cage is opened the Chinaman is driven out, and if he show some hesitation about leaving the cage, he is kicked out as if he were an animal. At least, that is the treatment to which they were at first subjected. Now, however, their treatment in the mine is hardly so severe. Indeed, it would not be too much to say that the Chinaman now does his share of the "kicking." For example, on September 23 last, the Chinese at the Lancaster Mine attempted to murder the skipman by placing a beam in the path of the descending skip--a collision with which, as a writer in the _Daily Mail_ lately pointed out, "would have sent the skip a drop of a thousand feet." The obstruction was noticed. When the skipman got out he was assaulted, but managed to escape. The white overseer at first felt that instinctive fear of and dislike for the Chinaman that is peculiar to all Englishmen. He was one man against hundreds. In the majority of cases he had been bitterly opposed to the introduction of Chinese labour. He realized by the restrictions that had been placed by the Ordinance on the Chinamen that they were feared, and, in turn, he feared them himself. It was his duty to see that they worked. It was his duty to make them work. Unable to speak their language, instinctively disliking them, he used the only means of asserting his authority which came to his hands: that was generally a boot or a crowbar. Physical fear is the power by which nearly all primitive communities are ruled. The white races look upon the Chinamen as belonging to a primitive community, forgetting that they are the children of a civilization thousands of years older than any that exists in Europe. The white man soon dropped trying to rule by force. The Chinaman showed him that he feared blows as little as he feared death. If he didn't want to work he wouldn't work, and showed that fear was not the basis of Chinese morals. Once in the mine the docile, tractable Chinaman of the Rand lords' dream did just as he liked, and continues to do just as he likes. When he leaves the compound he, perhaps, takes with him half a loaf of bread. When he feels hungry, he stops work, coils himself upon the ground, and takes his meal. Let the language of the white man be as terrible as he is capable of, let him rain blows upon the Chinaman's back, the Chinaman takes no notice, but continues his meal. When he has finished his bread he rolls a cigarette, and smokes in calm and indifferent quietness. If the Englishman remonstrates with him, John Chinaman replies, "Me get one little shilling. Me do plenttee work for me pay." And he speaks the truth. He does quite enough work for a shilling a day. There is a wide difference between what he considers sufficient work and what the Rand lords consider sufficient. There is the increase of two and a half millions which the cosmopolitan mine owner hopes to make by using the Chinaman as a slave, and which he never will make either with the Chinaman or the black man. He does his best, however. The idea that this heathen, whom he has brought over with so much difficulty, in the face of so much opposition, should actually refuse to work like a machine, but should have ideas about the time when he wants to eat, and should even demand a few minutes' quiet smoke after eating, drives him almost to the point of insanity. It is almost as bad as those white workmen, who have a mania for forming trade unions and require fair wages for fair work. In the face of this Chinese intractableness while working in the mines, the Rand lords have urged on the white overseers to force the Chinese to do their work. When the overseer points out that if he resorts to violence his life will not be worth a moment's purchase, he is met with the reply that it is his duty to see that the Chinaman does his work, and if he cannot do that they must find somebody else to take his place. Under this threat of dismissal, the overseer has had only one resource. He has had to raise up a race feud, from which he stands apart. The Kaffirs already hate the yellow man, realizing that they have deprived them of their work. The white overseer has fomented this racial animosity. When the Chinaman has proved recalcitrant and disobedient, when he has refused to do more than a certain quantity of work, the overseer turns the black man on to him to force him once again to his task. The result is bloodshed and murder of black men and Chinamen. It is the old problem of leading a horse to the water and trying to make him drink. The Chinaman has been dragged from his native land in the face of the opposition of the whole Empire to increase the dividend paying. But he won't hurry, he won't work too hard, and in the mine he will do, as I have said, exactly as he pleases. All illusions as to the Chinaman's capacity for hard work have vanished. Even Mr. S. B. Joel--one of the Rand lords--practically admitted as much in his speech at the annual meeting of the Johannesburg Consolidated Investment Company on November 23. With much reluctance, as may be imagined, the light-hearted "Solly" admitted that "the Chinese had not yet proved quite so suitable for underground work as natives"--but, lest this statement might affect the market price of the shares, the chairman of "Johnnies" expressed the hope that they would attain greater efficiency. No--the Chinaman does not work hard. It is true that he takes his employment seriously, and that what he does he will do well and with a certain efficiency. But he is not the masculine machinery or the cattle of Lord Selborne's imagination. He has enough intelligence to realize that he is the man who is wanted, and acts accordingly. If he works for a shilling a day he will only do a shilling's worth of work. He knows that he must be employed; nobody else can be got to do his job, and he acts, in fact, just as the Rand lords feared the white labourer would act. He won't be bullied into doing any more work than he wants to do. True, he forms no trade unions such as the white men form, but there is among all the Chinese a much more powerful weapon of opposition than the trade unions. Every Chinaman has his secret society, and these societies act together as one man. If the society decides to stop work, they stop work, and neither the fear of death nor the most callous or brutal treatment can move them from their purpose. He hates the white man with the same intensity as the white man hates him. If he can get the white man into any difficulty he will do so. His ingenuity for creating trouble is worthy of a better cause. With a sort of diabolical foresight he realizes exactly the complaints that will be showered upon the overseer's head by the masters of the mines. If the output falls, he knows that there will be trouble for the white man, so he stops work. He squats down and smokes cigarettes, realizing that by so doing he will be laying up a store of trouble for the overseer. To show how much the Chinaman is now the master of the situation on the Rand I may quote the following instance--On the night of October 24, the Chinese at the Jumpers Deep Mine refused to work until two of their compatriots, who had been arrested for an infringement of the mining regulations, were released. Every artifice was resorted to to get the stubborn Chinamen to resume their toil, but in vain. Eventually, the Government superintendent of the Chinese, acting under recently-extended powers, had forty of the head men arrested. Twenty of these were afterwards sentenced, some to two and others to three months' hard labour--sentences which probably moved to quiet mirth the parties most concerned, who could do that sort of punishment "on their head," so to speak. It has been said, of course, that the miners along the reef have always worked against the Chinese. It is not to be wondered at if they have. Nobody could reasonably blame them--except the Rand lords. But so far from this being true, the white miners have done their best to work with them. Even the chairman of the Chamber of Mines has confessed that the innumerable riots that have occurred down in the mines were not the result of the white men's machinations. The white man does his best, but under circumstances without parallel in the history of labour. He works always with the certain knowledge that at any moment he may be killed. To him the yellow terror is not a myth or the dream of fiction writers. He knows what it means. It is present with him every hour of his work. Down the mine in the stopes a white man has under him thirty or forty Chinese. If any grievance, real or imaginary, arose, the Chinese could turn round and take his life. He has no protection whatever. He has to stand by and listen as best he can to the insults heaped upon him by the children of the Celestial Empire; and insults heaped not only upon him but upon his womenfolk. He has to see that the work is done efficiently, or he is dismissed from his employment. But there is little wonder that his anger or fear gets the better of his discretion. It is bad enough that Chinamen are doing the work that should be done by white men, but it becomes even a greater scandal when the white men, who sacrificed so much blood and treasure for the Transvaal, should be insulted by these yellow slaves. The low-class Chinaman is probably the most bestial and degrading brute on this earth. He is intelligent enough, but his mind is as vile and unwholesome as a sewer. The bestial insults which he heaps upon the white overseers, and, indeed, upon every white man that he comes across, three years ago would not have been tolerated in any quarter of the British Empire. It is tolerated to-day in the Transvaal by the sanction of German Jews and un-British Gentiles. Lord Selborne, when the matter was brought to his notice, declared--"No wonder a white miner who has had such language said to him would fail to have roused within him feelings which would take a certain natural direction of satisfying themselves. But where has the Chinaman learnt this kind of language? he did not come here knowing it." Lord Selborne's implication was, of course, that the Englishmen, in their conversation in the presence of Chinamen, were accustomed to use this bestial talk. I don't pretend that the conversation of miners is always savoury. I am sure that the method of conversation in vogue in some of the Yorkshire and Lancashire factories would scandalize decent, quiet-living people, but such language on the part of the British workman is the result of his inability to express himself properly. What he says is said for emphasis. He does not, like a more educated man, add vigour to his conversation by making use of the endless variations of his mother tongue; he simply peppers his talk with epithets which in no way are used in their original meaning. If they were used in their original meaning, if the British workman really meant what he said, all the deadly sins in thought or in practice would be committed millions and millions of times a day. But the Chinaman is noted for his taste for all the most bestial vices which the imagination of man has ever conceived. What the miner may say in a coarse moment the Chinaman will commit without any hesitation. Lord Selborne asked where the Chinamen learnt this kind of language, and added that they did not come to the Transvaal knowing it. If Lord Selborne visited some of the treaty ports in China he would soon become aware that the Chinaman has added to his taste for committing all the vile and bestial vices, a knowledge of how to express these vices in all the vile and bestial language of Europe. As most of the criminal classes are to be found within the fringe of European civilization, and as, moreover, the Chinese Government has drafted, with a certain grim humour, a large number of the criminal classes into the Transvaal, I think the question as to where the Chinaman learnt his bestial language is answered equally as well as the statement, that he did not come to the Transvaal knowing it, is contradicted. This is the state of affairs in the mines themselves. But if these yellow slaves are intractable in the mines, they are even more intractable in the compounds. What they want to do that they will do, and not all the prisons and ingeniously-compiled penal laws can prevent them. They soon realized that if they wished they could be masters of the Rand. They foresaw that the Rand lord would be chary of using force, would hesitate to put into execution his slave-owning ideals, for fear of public opinion at home; that is to say, to put them into full force. But the Rand lords were not the type of men who would be chary of impressing upon the Chinamen in secret the full meaning of their position on the Rand. As it is the case in the mines, so is it the case in the compounds. The white man not only hates the yellow man, but fears him. He knows that at any moment he may be murdered, and with this fear in his heart has resorted to all sorts of brutality. The Chinamen can be flogged by law for almost any act. The Ordinance says that a Chinaman cannot leave the compound without a permit, and prescribes his life for him on absolute machine-like lines. The amended Ordinance of July 1904 says that he can be flogged in cases of assault with intent to commit any offence. Of course, an assault with intent to commit any offence might consist in hustling his neighbours in an attempt to escape from his compound, in pushing against the white overseer, in refusing to work. In short, the law was so ingeniously amended that the Chinaman could be flogged for anything. But the law was really not needed. The manager of the Croesus Mine admitted that when he considered a Chinaman wrong he had flogged him; that it might be against the law to flog him, but he had done so, and would continue to do so. And he was not only flogged for disobeying the regulations under which--knowingly, it is said--he had indentured himself, but for refusing to work. An Ordinance might substitute corporal punishment for imprisonment in the case of misdemeanours on the part of the Chinaman and so escape the title of slavery; but to force a man to work by corporal punishment is nothing but the essence of slavery. And yet these yellow men have been whipped to their work again and again. But flogging is no new thing on the Rand, nor is it confined to the Chinaman. The native knows the sjambok of the Rand lord well enough. "I well recollect," says Mr. Douglas Blackburn (lately assistant editor of the defunct Johannesburg _Daily Express_), writing to _The Times_ on November 4,--"I well recollect seventy-two boys being flogged before breakfast one morning in Krugersdorp gaol for the crime of refusing to work for £2 per month, after being promised £5 by the labour agent." While these facts are well known in Johannesburg, while there are many people who openly admit that they have thrashed the coolie, or ordered him to be thrashed for refusing to do sufficient work, the Rand papers, which are absolutely under the control of the mine owners, denied again and again that flogging took place. It was only Mr. Lyttelton's announcement that flogging must cease that at last compelled them to admit that flogging had taken place. Mr. Lyttelton had himself denied on several occasions that the Chinaman was flogged, and his command therefore that flogging must cease was quite as amazing to the members of the House of Commons as it was to the Rand lords. To anybody who has witnessed the development of Chinese slavery on the Rand, it is almost incomprehensible that there should be any people at home who deliberately refuse to believe that the Chinaman has been treated otherwise than as a human being, made in the image of God, with the rights that belong to all men of justice and freedom. The subject is as openly discussed, and regarded as a matter of fact on the Rand, as the Lord Mayor's Show. I cannot do better than quote from the now famous letters of Mr. Frank C. Boland to the _Morning Leader_. These letters show the development of yellow slavery in a nutshell, show how from flogging the yellow man to his work the Rand lords finally resorted to torture:-- "At the Nourse Deep severe punishment was meted out. Every boy who did not drill his thirty-six inches per shift was liable to be, and actually was, whipped, unless he were ill, and could show that it was a physical impossibility for him to do a day's work. A sjambok was used; it was laid on relentlessly by Chinese policemen, the part of the body selected being the muscles and tendons at the back of the thighs. Even the sight of blood did not matter. The policeman would go right on to the last stroke. Having been thus punished, the coolie would walk away; but after sitting down for a time the bruised tendons would refuse to work. Many of the coolies were sent to hospital to recover. "At a later date at this mine strips of rubber were substituted for a sjambok. This rubber, while causing very sharp pain, does not cut. "After a time the mine officials found that the coolies were not maintaining the monthly increase, and the management urged the Chinese controller to 'do something.' He refused to thrash the coolies unless they had committed some crime; and being informed by the manager that his policy would not suit, he gave two months' notice of his resignation. "Meanwhile, the management issued instructions, because of advice from England, that flogging should be stopped as far as possible, but asking that other forms of punishment should be substituted. "Thereupon certain forms of torture well known in the Far East were adopted. One of these was to strip erring coolies absolutely naked, and leave them tied by their pigtails to a stake in the compound for two or three hours. The other coolies would gather round and laugh and jeer at their countrymen, who stood shivering in the intense cold. "A more refined form of torture was to bind a coolie's left wrist with a piece of fine rope, which was then put through a ring in a beam about nine feet from the ground. This rope was then made taut, so that the unhappy coolie, with his left arm pulled up perpendicularly, had to stand on his tip-toes. In this position he was kept, as a rule, for two hours, during which time, if he tried to get down on his heels, he must dangle in the air, hanging from the left wrist. "Every mine has its lock-up for malingerers, deserters, and others. At the Witwatersrand the coolies are handcuffed over a horizontal beam. "The floor is of concrete, and they may sit down, but the beam is so far from the floor that it is impossible for any but exceptionally tall men to sit while handcuffed. They must therefore squat, and for a change raise themselves in a semi-standing posture. [Illustration: INSTEAD OF FLOGGING.] "When released, these prisoners stagger about until they regain the use of their legs; then they take their skoff and go below to work. "With the abolition of flogging, compound managers are now inventing other forms of punishment. In future, also, there will be an extensive system of fines, and food will be withheld. "Meanwhile, with all these methods of punishment, the coolies are still turbulent. Last Monday practically every boy on the Nourse Deep--seventy-five in all--was sent to gaol for seven days. This step is certain to foment trouble in the near future." It was this sort of inquisition that Great Britain had set up at the point of her bayonets. Well might the Australian Government say in their letter of protest--"Australia has been told that the war was a miners' war but not for Chinese miners, a war for the franchise but not for Chinese franchise. The truth, if it had to be told, would have presented a very different aspect, and would have made a very different appeal to Australia." It would, indeed, have made a very different appeal to the British public. Would there have been so much killing of Kruger with our mouths had we known that a white proletariat would not be wanted--in Lord Milner's words--that the white labourer was not to be allowed into the Transvaal because his trade unions would shackle the enterprise of the Rand lords; that yellow slaves would have to be introduced in the disguise of indentured labour; that these labourers would be whipped and tortured into doing their work? Had they known that on the Witwatersrand the average number of Chinamen flogged daily for one month was forty-two--Sundays included--would there have been so much Rule Britannia and music-hall Jingoism? It is quite true, of course, that had the British people accepted the principle of importing Chinese labour into the Transvaal it would be quite fair to blame, as Lord Salisbury was always so fond of blaming, the system for the cruelty that inevitably followed. But the British public have never accepted the principle of importing Chinese labourers into the Transvaal. They have always been deliberately opposed to it, as has every part of the British Empire. They are not to blame, therefore, for the state of affairs on the Rand. As to the insane flogging administered for an offence, it cannot be better described than by giving another quotation from Mr. Boland's letter to the _Morning Leader_. Here is the method of procedure:-- "A coolie is reported either by a white shift boss or by a head-man for an offence. He is called into the compound manager's office, charged, and given a fair trial (except where the compound manager does not know the Chinese language, and has to trust to his yellow interpreter). Then the sentence is passed by the compound manager--ten, fifteen, or twenty strokes, according to the crime. The coolie, with a Chinese policeman on either side of him, is taken away about ten paces. Then he stops, and at the word of a policeman drops his pantaloons, and falls flat on his face and at full length on the floor. One policeman holds his feet together; another, with both hands pressed firmly on the back of his head, looks after that end of his body. Then the flagellator, with a strip of thick leather on the end of a three-foot wooden handle, lays on the punishment, severely or lightly, as instructed. Should the prisoner struggle after the first few strokes, another policeman plants a foot in the middle of his back until the full dose has been administered. [Illustration: LAYING ON THE PUNISHMENT.] "In another form of flogging practised, a short bamboo was used. The coolie would strip to the waist and go down on his knees with his head on the floor. His castigator would then squat beside him, and strike him across the shoulders with lightning rapidity. The blows, though apparently light, always fell on the one spot, and raised a large red weal before cutting the flesh. During the first quarter of this year no fewer than fifty-six coolies were whipped, after 8 p.m. one evening, at the Witwatersrand Mine, the dose varying from five to fifteen strokes." In Mr. Douglas Blackburn's letter to _The Times_, from which I quoted just now, we are told that much of the resultant mischief was due to the incompetence and mismanagement of the men in charge of the compound. "I assert unequivocally," he says, "that most of the white interpreters and compound managers had not a working acquaintance with the Chinese language, and, therefore, frequently misunderstood the complaints and requests made to them by the coolies.... This is no place for detail, but the following incident, which occurred in my presence, may be accepted as typical and illustrative. A compound manager was examining the passes of a number of coolies. When we left the compound we were followed by two Chinamen who shouted and gesticulated violently, and clutched at the arm of the manager. I could see that he failed to understand them, for he shouted wildly in return, exhibited signs of great alarm, and eventually knocked them both down, called the guard, had the pair locked up, and later in the day he flogged them for insubordination. Next day he confided to me that he was in fault. He had inadvertently put the passes into his pocket and misinterpreted the clamouring request for their return into threats against himself. That manager is now seeking another engagement." The twenty thousand soldiers who went to their death fighting what they imagined was for their country, might well, instead of singing "God save the King" and the like, have marched to the battle-fields of the Transvaal and the Orange River Colony crying, like the old gladiators, "Ave, Croesus, morituri te salutant." [Illustration: CUTTING THE FLESH.] CHAPTER IV THE GROWTH OF TERRORISM When Mr. Lyttelton said that flogging must cease, flogging ceased on the Rand, and the Oriental methods of torture were adopted instead. But even this penal system--reminding one so strongly of the days of Stephen, when the wretched, tortured peasantry openly said that Christ and His saints slept, for Pity had veiled her face and Mercy had forgotten--had to be practised with great secrecy owing to the force of public opinion at home. These methods were, however, unavailing to check the growing insolence and insubordination of the Chinese slaves. No better idea of the condition of the Rand during the last few months can be gathered than from the new Ordinance, which was drafted at the beginning of last October. This Ordinance took the power of punishing the Chinese coolies from the hands of the resident magistrates and placed it in the hands of the inspectors, thereby giving the welfare of the Chinese slaves solely and entirely into the mercy of the Rand lords. Before, an attempt had been made to cloak the slave Ordinance with a pretence of law and justice as conceived by the British public. But the draft Ordinance of August put an end to this piece of hypocrisy. The superintendents and the inspectors of the Chinese, for all practical purposes the servants of the mine owners, were to be not only the judge and the jury, but the plaintiff. It conferred on the superintendents and inspectors jurisdiction, in respect of offences against the Ordinance, of a resident magistrate. Clause I states--"This power will be granted provided such offences are committed under the Ordinance and within the area of any mine or mine compound where such labourer resides. The fines to be inflicted in the case of conviction will be the same as those imposed by the magistrates under the existing laws, and on conviction the labourer's employer will be notified, and the amount of the fine will be deducted from the labourer's wages and paid over for the benefit of the Colonial Treasury." Another clause states that--"For the purpose of confining prisoners awaiting trial, it is provided that the employers of labourers shall erect a lock-up on their properties, which lock-up shall be deemed to be a jail." Again, in the event of labourers on the mines organizing a conspiracy, refusing to work, creating a disturbance, intimidating or molesting any person on the mine, the superintendent or inspector is empowered to impose a collective fine on the labourers. Insomuch as this new Ordinance once and for all destroys the myth with which Rand lords endeavoured to surround their slave-owning ideals, I consider it to be a decided improvement upon the original Ordinance, with its innumerable pleasures and pretences for the moral and spiritual welfare of the Chinamen. That unfortunate and much-deluded man the Colonial Secretary, once declared in the House of Commons that the Chinaman would have just as free access to a court of justice as any British subject. He certainly now-a-days possesses free access to a court, if not to a court of justice. Access is so easy to it that the court actually follows him wherever he goes, watches him while he works in the mine, watches him while he is in the compound, and is ready to punish and fine him, or to lock him up in the compound prison, without any of those old-fashioned formalities which, while they may embody the machinery of justice, are at least guarantees of its purity and disinterestedness. It would of course be very interesting to know how many of these fines have ever reached the Colonial Treasury. Armed with such extraordinary powers as these, it is highly probable that the Rand lords imposed through their superintendents and inspectors unlimited fines which, instead of benefiting the Colonial Revenue, merely reduced the wage bill. The last clause which I have quoted contains the phrase "organizing a conspiracy." A conspiracy, of course, is anything in the nature of a trade union. I don't say that this new Ordinance was not justified. I think it was fully justified. No efficiency can be obtained by half measures. The ablest political trimmers are incapable of serving both God and Mammon. If God is out of the question, a whole-hearted worship of Mammon is really better. In short, it would have been far more in the interests of the Transvaal if the Rand lords had from the first gone the whole hog and insisted on having Chinese slaves in name as well as in fact. The state of affairs in August last wanted extraordinary legislation. But, of course, this must not be held to justify Chinese labour. That was criminal. But once the principle of Chinese labour had been accepted by the Government on behalf of an unwilling and protesting nation, I fail to see how the unfortunate remnants of British subjects in the Transvaal could be properly protected without these measures. I don't see how, when once the Chinese had been brought into the country, the brutalities that have been committed could have been avoided. I think the superintendent and the inspector and the overseer should have the right to shoot men down in cold blood. I think the compounds should be surrounded by artillery. I think all the ideals of Russian autocratic rule should be brought to bear upon these men. The awful brutality with which they have been treated is justified. The superintendent, the inspector and the overseer should be forced to make a special study of the methods adopted by Hawkins and Magree. The British Government wanted Chinese labour to be introduced into the Transvaal, and if they had been efficient and sensible they should have accumulated in their Ordinance the wisdom of all the slave-owning traditions of centuries. But from an unbiassed perusal of the Rand press one would have imagined that all these extraordinary measures were unjustified. The statements that the Chinese were committing outrages, were insolent, were bestial, which have from time to time appeared in the British press, were referred to by the Rand press as "more Chinese lies," "Chinese canards," and such headings. They persistently impressed upon their readers that the Chinese were leading an industrious, idyllic life, that they were treated with kindness and humanity by the overseers, that no happier community ever existed on the face of the earth than the 40,000 odd Chinamen in their compounds on the Rand. Of course, they only kept up this pretence for a time. It was impossible for long to pretend to be a newspaper at all and yet deny facts which were personally known to the majority of their readers. The object of this extraordinary legislation was, of course, that the Chinese preferred to go to prison rather than pay fines. At the beginning of August there were more than one thousand Chinamen in jail undergoing various terms of imprisonment, rather than deduct from their shilling a day, the amounts they were called upon to pay for disobeying the laws laid down in the Ordinance. The amended Ordinance now forced them to pay by withholding from them a portion of their wage equal to the amount of the fine. It has been found useless, in fact, to pretend that other than a reign of terror pertains in the Transvaal. The Chinamen have broken loose, and only their prompt deportation can prevent a very grave crisis. Neither fines nor floggings have any terror for them, and from their earliest years they have been accustomed to regard death without a semblance of fear. I will relate some of the more notorious instances in which these yellow slaves have figured in the last year. The list includes, murder, rape, robbery with violence, and that class of criminal assault with which we deal in England under the Criminal Law Amendment Act. While working in the mines the Chinaman does exactly what he pleases. The overseers dare not interfere. Their policy of putting the black man on to the yellow man has resulted in murder. The Chinaman has a short way with any white or black man who tries to interfere with his sense of liberty. He kills the man. Every Chinaman belongs to a secret society, and when he has determined to kill a white or a black man he reports his decision to the society. He knows that the deed which he meditates will be rewarded by his own death: but for this he cares nothing. All his preparations are made beforehand. His secret society probably consists of from four to five thousand members. All these members contribute something like sixpence a-piece to make up a sum, say of £100. When this amount is collected, it is sent over to his wife and family in China. Having thus made all the necessary provision for his wife and children, the Chinaman perpetrates the deed. He is then arrested, sentenced and hanged. And he meets his end with a stoical indifference, quite content that he has secured his revenge and set his worldly affairs in order. In the face of such sentiments compulsion is futile. On Wednesday, September 13, a gang of Chinese coolies working at the Geldenhuis Deep Mine decided to take a holiday. The management of the mine were instructed to offer them extra pay if they would work. They refused, and took their holiday. They promised, however, that they would start their first shift at midnight on the following Sunday, September 17. When midnight on Sunday, September 17, arrived, they determined to keep their holiday up. The compound manager endeavoured to use force. The Chinese met force by force. The police were called in. The riot at that juncture had reached a most alarming state. The police were ordered to fire: they obeyed, killing one Chinaman and wounding another; but not before the compound manager had been attacked and somewhat seriously injured. Finally the Chinamen were driven to their work. On the same Sunday the utter uselessness of the compound system was proved. One hundred Chinamen bolted from the French Rand Mine. Somebody, it is supposed, had spread among them the report that the Boers were enlisting coolies at £4 a month to fight the English. In vain has the number of police in the Witwatersrand district been increased. Gangs of deserters are wandering about the country murdering and looting. "Last night," wrote a young South African policeman to his parents in England, "I captured six Chinamen who had run away from the mines. They are giving a lot of trouble--5000 of them started rioting last week, and 100 foot police and 200 South African Constabulary had to go to stop them, and a nice old job we had. They threw broken bottles and stones when we charged them. Some of our fellows were very badly cut. The Chinamen also made dynamite bombs and threw them at us, and we had to shoot into the crowd to drive them back. We aimed low and wounded a good many of them. They are nasty devils to tackle, and always show fight when there are a lot of them together. The six I captured were trekking across the veld. I chased them on horseback and they ran on top of a kopje and commenced to roll rocks down. I managed to get a shot at one with my revolver: the bullet struck him on the wrist. Then they all put up their hands and surrendered. I managed to get some niggers working in the mealie patch to escort them back to our camp. The niggers were very proud of themselves. When they passed through the other native kraals I think if I had not been there the Kaffirs would have assegaied them. They hate the Chinamen like poison." These are the sort of incidents that occur daily. All the measures taken by the Government and the mine owners to prevent desertion have proved ineffective. The country around the Witwatersrand Mines has taken upon itself the aspect of the whole of the colony during the late war. Mounted constables with loaded revolvers organize drives. The whole district is patrolled, and every effort is made to bring back the deserters to the compounds. But as soon as one lot has returned another escapes. Every day you may see a mounted policeman riding down towards the law courts, followed by a string of Chinese deserters. The Johannesburger lives in a daily state of terror. He rarely meets a Chinaman without immediately seeking the protection of the police and insisting on an inquiry being held then and there, as to whether the man has a permit to be at large in the Golden City. Writing on October 2, the Johannesburg correspondent--one L. E. N.--of a London morning paper gives a graphic account of the wonderful City of Gold at that date. "Gold of the value of over £20,000,000 a year," he says, "is extracted from that stretch of dusty upland called The Reef.... But look closer. The white workers on the mines carry revolvers; the police are armed with ball cartridge and bayonet; camped yonder at Auckland Park is a mobile column of mounted men ready to move against an enemy at a moment's notice; the country folk on the other side of the swelling rise are armed to the teeth, and live at night in barricaded and fortified houses." What a beautiful commentary on life as it is lived--under the British flag--in the commercial and political hub of the great sub-continent! The Boers, who through their political organization the Het Volk have refused to take any active part in the management of the country, determined with a sort of grim humour, since the British sought to destroy the corrupt Government of their late President, they shall be allowed to mismanage the country as they will, have been led to break their political silence to petition the Government for more protection. At a meeting held at Krugersdoorp at the beginning of October, they decided to forward a resolution to the Imperial Government requesting that the importation of Chinese coolies should be discontinued, and those already in the country should be repatriated. Regret was further expressed at the danger to life and property, and it was pointed out that the policy of not allowing the Boers to carry firearms prevented them from properly protecting the lives of their families. [Illustration: GOOD SPORT.] General Botha did not exaggerate the dangers which resulted from the importation of Chinamen, and he voiced the common sentiment of Boer and Briton when he asked that a Commission should be appointed to investigate the treatment of the Chinese coolies, and ascertain the cause of the disturbances. The mine owners' press informed the public that there are very few cases of desertion; that when any number of Chinamen do desert the South African Constabulary deal with them efficiently. They are hunted down, rounded up, and brought in by their pigtails for trial. At the trial they are convicted, or were before the amendment of the Ordinance in August last, and locked up. Any one going through the Transvaal will see hundreds of these Chinese convicts working in large batches on the roads. White men are placed in charge of these convicts, and when the repairing and macadamizing of the roads is not done to their liking, the Chinamen are flogged, and flogged in the open. They are subjected to every kind of brutal treatment; and it is probable that almost as many desert from the convict prisons as desert from the slave compounds. In "C" Court, Johannesburg, on October 3 (or 4, I am not sure of the exact date), before Mr. Schuurman, several Chinese labourers were prosecuted for wandering from the mines in which they were employed, without possessing the necessary permission. They all pleaded guilty, and were fined £1 each. When asked what excuse they had to offer, three of them said they were homesick, and were on their way to China; two others stated that they had only gone for a short walk, and were close to the mine when arrested. The policeman, however, declared they were twenty-five miles from the mine. A few of the accused stated that they were ill-treated, and consequently deserted. The magistrate sapiently advised them that in such a case, instead of absconding, they should complain to the representative of the Labour Importation Association when he called at the mine. Under the new regulations, sixty-five Chinamen, including an alleged professional robber, were arrested on October 18. A Johannesburg correspondent describes them as "a band of 450 coolies of bad character." What has Lieut.-Colonel W. Dalrymple, the Rand mining man who lately at Tunbridge Wells denounced the "infamous lies" which were circulated in this country about the Chinese labour question--what, I repeat, has Lieut.-Colonel Dalrymple to say to _that_? From the same telegram I learn that the measures which are now being taken to prevent desertions are proving effective. The roll-call of October 8--I am now quoting the immaculate Reuter--"showed 278 absentees, and during the following week 245 were captured and brought back to work. Last night," adds the correspondent, meaning the night of October 17, "nine coolies attempted to raid a homestead in the Krugersdoorp district. The farmer fired through a window, and shot one Chinaman dead; the others fled." I commend these statements, together with those quoted hereafter, to the earnest attention of the editor of a certain yellow-covered weekly journal, devoted to the interests of South Africa--the organ of the Rand lords in London--which persistently pooh-poohs the "yellow slavery" cry. Meanwhile gangs of escaped Chinamen are wandering over the country spreading terror everywhere. The Boer farmer goes to bed at night in his lonely farmhouse on the veld as if he were still at war with Great Britain. Long hidden rifles are brought out from the hay-ricks and other hiding-places and got ready. Windows are boarded up, doors are double locked. Every preparation is made to warn off the ever expected attack of the yellow desperadoes. At the beginning of October two homesteads in the Boksburg district were attacked by a party of Chinese, who attempted to gain an entrance by breaking in the back doors and windows. In both cases, however, the farmers had made every preparation for such an attack, and fired on the marauders, one of whom was wounded in the chest and another in the abdomen. The remainder made off. A similar outrage occurred in the middle of November. A lonely farmhouse near Germiston, occupied by an Englishman and his wife, was attacked by a band of Chinese, who were armed with crowbars and stones. The farmer opened fire, seriously wounding one of the Chinamen in the jaw, and the rest decamped without entering. The injured man was captured, but the whereabouts and identity of the others were not discovered. In Johannesburg the talk is of nothing but murders and assaults by gangs of ten or fourteen escaped labourers. House after house away on the veld has been broken into and looted, and the inhabitants murdered if they showed any signs of resistance; they have indeed in some cases been murdered without showing any sign of resistance at all. Quite recently the Legislative Council of the Transvaal has re-amended for about the tenth time the Ordinance. It has proposed to offer £1 a head for the recapture of these yellow hooligans, an amendment which would have placed the very much-bepatched Ordinance on a level with the laws that prevailed in the Southern States of America before the abolition of slavery. It is charged, however, with that strange spirit of hypocrisy which has characterized all the proceedings of the Rand lords into a reimbursement to the capturer of his out-of-pocket expenses. This of course is only another way of offering £1 for every recaptured Chinaman, for it may be taken for granted that the capturer's expenses will always include the wear and tear of horseflesh and moral damages and other matters which can only be estimated in the abstract. According to the schedule of fees payable in respect of the capture of Chinese deserters, which was published early in October, they ranged from 1s. per mile for one or two arrests to 3s. for eight or more. Here is a letter from another member of the South African Constabulary to his people at home which emphasizes the state of affairs which exist at present on the Rand. "The Chinese have been causing a lot of trouble. There was a whole family murdered about a month ago. Several places have been broken into. Last Sunday there was a storekeeper murdered about ten miles from where I am staying. We have orders on no account to go out on patrol without a revolver. The people are seeking police protection, and are frightened out of their wits. I believe it is as much as a South African Constabulary man's life is worth to be seen at some places on the Rand in uniform. I am determined that if I meet any Chinamen, and they show fight, I will shoot the first one dead." This is the spirit abroad--a spirit which every right-minded man must regard as the inevitable result of the criminal action of the Government in sanctioning the Chinese Labour Ordinance. Here is another case which has never been reported in the press:-- At Germiston railway station twelve Chinamen were waiting on the platform for a train. A white woman happened to pass by, and as she passed the Chinamen hurled some bestial insult at her. One of the railway officials immediately called a policeman, who tried to take the offending Chinaman into custody. He was promptly knocked down. Three more policemen were hurried to the scene. These met with like treatment, and even when two other comrades came to their assistance they were utterly unable to effect the arrest. After twenty minutes' violent fighting, during which the gang of Chinamen were absolutely unhurt, six policemen were taken on stretchers to the hospital. Here are two or three more instances taken at random from the "Butcher's Bill" of a Johannesburg correspondent, whose letter appeared in the _Daily Mail_ a few weeks ago:-- "_Sept. 5._--Chinese attack Kaffirs in the Lancaster Mine. They throw one Kaffir in front of a train of ore, so that he is cut to pieces. A second Kaffir dies of his injuries. "_Sept. 8._--Homestead at Rand Klipfontein attacked and looted, and £150 in money taken. The Chinese try to fire the house by throwing a fire-ball through the window. "_Sept. 16._--Band of Chinese rush a Kaffir kraal at Wilgespruit, on the West Rand. Native woman's head nearly severed. Chinese armed with knives 2 feet 6 inches long, made by a Sheffield firm. "_Sept. 18._--Riot Geldenhuis Deep. Compound manager assaulted. Mounted police attacked by 1500 coolies armed with drills, stones, bottles, etc., and forced to fire their revolvers. One Chinaman killed and a number wounded." And so on and so forth. One more instance to show to what length the Chinamen will go. A gang of the breed employed at the Van Ryn Mine, where there had previously been a number of disturbances, struck work and attacked the whites underground. A white man pulled the signal cord, and police, galloping up, descended the shaft and saved the whites. The ringleaders were arrested, and, adds the correspondent somewhat ingenuously--"This phase of attacks underground is disquieting." From the adjacent colony of Natal, too, come words of complaint about Chinese stragglers; and it is significant in this connection that "over a thousand rifles" were issued to the farmers in the Transvaal at the end of September last. These are facts which Mr. Reyersbach, of Messrs. H. Eckstein & Co., would be well advised to put in his pipe and ponder. Of course the immediate cause which leads to the Chinese committing the above-recorded acts of violence is the result of bad treatment. The murder of Mr. Joubert in the Bronkhorst Spruit Mine--for which, on November 20, four Chinamen were executed in Pretoria jail--who received some fifty stabs before succumbing, was due to starvation. The men wanted to find food. They were not allowed to eat apparently, and so, maddened by ill-treatment, overwork, and starvation, they committed murder. Perhaps the most tragic part of the whole business is that one cannot completely blame them for such an awful act. They have grown to hate the white man. It is small wonder. There are now nearly 50,000 Chinamen on the Rand, and in the breasts of all these men there seems to have been imbued a hatred and detestation of the white man. It seems almost as if these slaves considered it fair game to commit any outrage, however brutal, on white men and white women whenever the opportunity occurs. They are treated outrageously themselves. They get little justice from magistrates, so it is small wonder that they are indulging themselves in a sort of blood carnival of revenge. Discussing this question the other day with a representative of the London journal _South Africa_, Dr. Corstorphine seriously declared that the difficulties attendant on the Chinese labour question had been magnified out of all proportion to the main facts. "We must expect to find a few black sheep amongst the Chinese," sagely observed the doctor. Ye gods!--a _few_. It would be interesting to know what constitutes a "few" in the mind of the worthy geologist. Dr. Corstorphine would probably indignantly deny the existence of yellow slavery on the Rand. But possibly he would admit its existence under another name, just as Sir Edward Grey did at Alnwick the other night. Addressing his constituents, Sir Edward said he had never said that the working of the mines by the Chinese in South Africa was slavery; but the question he would put to those who said it was not, would be--"Was it _Freedom_?" That is a question that I would put to Dr. Corstorphine, Mr. Fricker, Mr. E. P. Mathers, and others of their kidney. If Chinese labour on the Rand isn't slavery, what is it--is it _Freedom_? I pause for a reply. CHAPTER V THE YELLOW TRAIL The mark of the yellow man is upon the Rand. He has set his seal upon the country, and it is to be seen in a hundred things. Johannesburg was never an exactly heavenly place. A gold centre attracts all the evil passions of men--draws to it, like the lodestone draws the needle--every species of adventurer and world vagabond. President Kruger knew how to deal with the cosmopolitan hordes that thronged the streets of the "Gold-Reef City." He put a check upon the importation of undesirables, and always remembered before all things that the Transvaal belonged to the Boer people and not to the cosmopolitan. The British Government might well have taken a leaf from his book. But they have failed to do so. Instead of making the interests of the Briton paramount, they have deliberately allowed the Rand to be overrun by every type of Continental adventurer. So Johannesburg, up to the summer of 1904, was never exactly peopled by a moral, law-abiding population. The fierceness of competition, the keenness to make money rapidly, seems to electrify the sunny atmosphere of the Rand, and to produce a community that knows no law. But since the summer of 1904 the Rand has suffered a change which at one time was thought impossible; it has changed for the worse. To the wild life in the mining city has been added the degrading vices of the Orient. The Chinaman has brought with him all the worst vices of life in a treaty port. Opium dens and gambling hells, in spite of the most careful police surveillance, have sprung up. The yellow man has made his name a terror. He has murdered, raped, robbed, and committed every offence against law and morality. He has literally terrorized--and still terrorizes--the Rand. The plutocrat Jew walks the familiar streets in a state of trepidation; the Boer farmer sleeps with a rifle by his side, and his farm house is surrounded by spring guns and alarums. The life of no white man is safe, and the honour of no white woman. "The Chinese reign of terror continues on the Rand," cabled the Durban correspondent of the _Daily Chronicle_ on November 1. "The latest outrage is that perpetrated by a gang of coolies, who attacked a house at Benoni, injuring its occupant, Mr. Vaughan, and wounding his wife with a razor. They ransacked the house and stole the plate." These are some of the men whose praises were sung by Sir George Farrar at a political meeting at the Nigel--and whose work as miners, he declared, had proved "a great success." A "great success," perhaps, for the Rand lords, but at what a terrible cost to the community of the Witwatersrand! The _South African News_ of Cape Town has rendered yeoman service to the cause of those who are opposed--and their name is legion!--to the Chinese labour question. The ridiculous contentions of the Rand lords have been exposed again and again by the Cape Town journal, whose fearlessness in grappling with the subject has been in marked contrast to the majority of its contemporaries in the sub-continent, and has earned, as it has deserved, the thanks of the thinking portion of the community. Commenting on October 4 on the continuance of the reign of terror on the Rand, "as it was bound to continue," the _South African News_ puts the case with unmistakable plainness;--"Unless the Chinese are confined in such a way as the mine-owners themselves consider fairly describable as slavery, they are a menace to the public. Probably slavery would mean further outrages; it is clear that torture of various kinds has been allowed on the Rand, and it is far less clear that this is not the real cause of some of the excesses which have shocked South Africa. Either we must have slavery and exasperation, or we must have our people exposed to the danger of murder, outrage and robbery; or we must demand the expulsion of the Chinese, and the turning down of a disgraceful page in South African and English history which has brought good to no one, and only serves as another indication of the strength to which avarice will lead men in attempting to bend nature into the service of their own greed." It was understood that the only conditions under which Chinese labour could be introduced to the Rand was a system by which they were kept apart, under lock and key, from the rest of the population. But this system has broken down. Hordes of Chinese, as I have shown, are running over the country. The utter futility of the compound system is proved by the fact that as many as thirteen Chinese laundries have been broken up by the police in one week, only for others to take their place. It was recognized by the Government that the Chinaman must not be allowed to be a competitor. This was one of the reasons of herding him with his fellows like cattle in a pen. But the Chinaman broke loose. With Asiatic unconcern he sets all the rules of the Ordinance at defiance, and calmly sets up a laundry in the town, caters for custom, carries on his business just as if he were a free man and not a yellow serf, until some frightened cosmopolitan sees him in the streets, and in a state of fear demands that the nearest policeman shall see whether the creature has a permit or not. John Chinaman, who, of course, has no permit, is thereupon arrested, his laundry business comes to an abrupt close, and he starts once again his task of gold grubbing for a shilling a day. The amended Ordinance of August last contained this clause-- "It is provided that labourers being in possession of gum, opium, extract of opium, poppies, etc., shall be liable to a fine on conviction of £20, or in lieu thereof of imprisonment for three months, with or without hard labour." This ominous clause was rendered necessary by the steadily increasing growth of opium dens. Twelve months before, some few weeks after the arrival of the first batch of Chinamen, the Government had passed what was known as the Poison Ordinance. The object of this Ordinance was to regulate the sale of opium. It provided that only registered chemists and druggists might sell opium, and that every package of the drug must be labelled with the word "Poison." Of course, this was ridiculously inadequate, and it was soon found that more stringent measures must be taken. It was decreed, therefore, that opium could only be sold to persons known to the seller, and on an entry being made in the poison-book. These further restrictions were found perfectly futile. The sale of opium increased enormously. At a meeting of the Transvaal Pharmacy Board, the secretary of the board read his report on the poison-books of the chemists in Johannesburg. It transpired that an examination of the books of one chemist had disclosed the following sales of opium on various dates in July and August last--336 lbs., 18 lbs., 28 lbs., 7 lbs., 31 lbs., 48 lbs. All this had been sold to Chinamen for smoking purposes. One lot was said to have been sold under a medical certificate, but the doctor concerned denied all knowledge of such certificate. The chairman of the board said, that while it was gratifying to know that only three out of sixty-eight pharmacies along the Rand carried on traffic in opium, the ugly fact remained that two of these chemists had imported during August two tons of Persian opium for smoking purposes, and an examination of their books disclosed that only a few pounds were unsold. In vain have the authorities attempted to put an end to this drug habit. Recommendations have been made by the Pharmacy Board that any chemist secretly supplying the Chinese with drugs should be sent to prison, without the option of a fine. As if one evil were producing another evil, it has been proved that not only are the Chinamen demoralizing the Rand, but the Rand is demoralizing the Chinamen. The majority of the Chinese labourers have been drawn from the north of the Celestial Empire, where very little opium is used, on account of the poverty of the people. The comparatively large salaries which these labourers are now receiving enables them to indulge their inherited taste for the drug to their hearts' content. But in addition to this sale of opium by chemists on the Rand, opium dens have sprung up all over the place. As soon as the police stamp them out in one quarter they reappear in another. They are accompanied, of course, by the usual gambling hells. These, too, the police endeavour to suppress. All the money that they find is impounded; heavy fines are exacted. But instead of decreasing they increase. The most dangerous vice of the Orient is thus thriving luxuriantly upon the favourable soil of the Rand. One cannot blame the Chinaman for drugging himself. It is difficult even to blame him for the outrages that he commits. The opium habit, of course, is a step towards other habits. If the Chinaman merely went to the opium dens in his off hours, drugged himself, slept his celestial sleep, and then returned to his labours prepared to work as hard as any cart-horse, the Rand lords would be the last persons to forbid him these indulgences. But the opium habit is demoralizing and degrading. It excites passions almost beyond control. I have already pointed out that Mr. Lyttelton promised in the House of Commons that the Chinaman should be allowed to take his womenfolk with him if he wished, and a great point was made of the fact that the morality of the Chinamen would be well looked after. No risks were to be taken. The Archbishop of Canterbury had to be satisfied upon the point before he made his regrettable necessity speech--"Show me that it brings about or implies the encouragement of immorality in the sense in which we ordinarily use the word, and, I am almost ashamed to say anything so obvious, I should not call the so-called necessity worth a single moment's consideration. In such a case there could be but one answer given by any honest man. The thing is wrong, and please God it shall not take place." The Most Reverend Primate should be satisfied by now that the system deliberately set up in the Transvaal has brought about and encouraged immorality. The Chinaman is always a frugal feeder, yet the strength of his passions is notorious. There is no necessity to go back into the past moral history of the Chinese race to contradict this statement. Gangs of escaped labourers have attacked farm houses on the veld, and where they have found no men, or where the men have been overpowered, they have committed all the most bestial assaults known upon the women and children. One white woman was known to have been found raped, and dead. It is not safe for any decent or respectable white woman to go near a Chinaman. The way he looks at her is sufficient to raise the most murderous thoughts in the mind of any white man present. A deputation of miners asked Lord Selborne for protection against the Chinamen, stating that the way in which they spoke to and looked at white women was intolerable, and pointed out further that, unless steps were taken to protect the white population, the most horrible crimes would be committed. That warning has proved true. Lord Milner has called the sentiment, which has arisen in the breasts of nearly all Britons, of loathing for the introduction of Chinamen into the Rand, Exeter Hall sentiment. It possibly is the sentiment of Exeter Hall, but it is to be hoped it is the sentiment also of all decent people who believe in virtue and morality, and who still cherish a fine chivalrous ideal of woman. The Government have again and again declared that the protest of the Opposition in the House of Commons was dictated purely by party considerations--that Chinese labour was a good stalking horse. That people really were concerned about the welfare of Chinamen on the Rand they refused to believe. As a matter of fact it is really the Government that are blinded by partisanship; they see everything through a false medium. What they do not see falsely in the Transvaal they do not see at all. For it cannot be that they really are in favour of retaining on the Rand 50,000 Chinamen who commit the most loathsome outrages on the white population. It is almost passing belief that they should blind themselves to the fact that the womenfolk of the Transvaal are absolutely unprovided with any adequate protection against these hordes of Chinamen. Every day, as has been shown, desertions grow more numerous, and with every Chinaman that escapes the terror increases. No steps have been taken for the protection of his morals. Not even the most human elementary step of letting him bring with him his wife has been taken. And but few steps have been taken to protect the white population. The most ordinary commonplace foresight has been wanting. The carnival of lust and blood now going on in the Transvaal could have been prevented. It was bad enough to introduce Chinese labour at all into the Transvaal. The case becomes more damnable when they are introduced without those restrictions which had been promised. "I am opposed," said Herbert Spencer, "to the importation of Chinese labour, because if it occurs one of two things must happen. Either the Chinese must mix with the nation, in which case you get a bad hybrid, and yet if they do not mix they must occupy a position of slavery." The British Government, at the dictation of the Rand lords, attempted to make the Chinaman occupy a position of slavery, failed to completely establish this system, and is allowing the Chinamen to mix with the population. Thus we shall have in the Transvaal the two evils which Herbert Spencer raised his voice against. We have already slavery; we shall certainly have a bad hybrid population. The degrading influence of the Chinaman is shown in Johannesburg. White women are actually marrying them. They are even mixing with the black races. The Transvaal was bad enough before, when merely thronged with the scouring of Europe. But it will be a thousand times worse before the last Chinaman is repatriated. In a morning paper of November 2 I read that Mr. Lyttelton, the Colonial Secretary, in a letter to Mr. George Renwick, M.P., defends the action of the Government in regard to the employment of Chinese labour. He refers to the demand for it in the South African colonies, and says--"The opinion to which we came was based upon evidence taken from many sources. That it was correct is borne out by the fact that we have received not a single petition from the Transvaal for the revocation of the Ordinance." Let not Mr. Lyttelton lay such flattering unction to his soul. If it be true, as he states, that the Imperial Government have so far not received a single petition from the other side against the Chinamen, he need only _wacht een beitje_--wait a bit--as they say in South Africa. The petitions will follow. By and by they will be thick as leaves in Vallombrosa. Does Mr. Lyttelton never read the daily papers? Is he unaware, for instance, that at a special meeting held at Krugersdoorp on October 10, a resolution was carried praying that an end might be put to the importation of Chinese, and that the Chinamen now on the Rand might be sent back immediately after the expiration of their contracts? Does he pretend to be ignorant of the fact that it was announced at the time that this resolution would be sent to the Imperial Government through Lord Selborne? I cannot believe it. Let Mr. Lyttelton note that the correspondent from whose message I quote, significantly added--"_If this way of protesting has no result, it is intended to send a deputation to England to discuss matters regarding the Chinese question._" Verily, it would seem that nothing short of a measure of the kind will stir the conscience of Christian England to an appreciation of the intolerable state of affairs now being endured in South Africa by those whose lot is cast in proximity to the yellow man! CHAPTER VI THE EFFECT OF CHINESE LABOUR. PROMISES AND PERFORMANCES The introduction of Chinese indentured labour to the Transvaal has been a complete failure--(1) Financially, (2) Socially, (3) Politically. The slave-owning ideals of the Rand lords has made the Transvaal a hell. It has not even made it a paying hell. Every security connected with the Rand industry has decreased enormously. It is estimated that the loss of capital runs to many millions of pounds sterling. It cannot be said in excuse that this is the result of general commercial depression throughout the Empire, for almost every other kind of security, except Consols, has considerably appreciated in value. Certainly the record monthly output of gold has long been passed. More gold has been produced each month than was ever produced before, even during the pre-war period. But these record outputs mean nothing. Even at 1s. 6d. a day the Chinese labourer has been proved to be an expensive luxury. He costs nearly 50 per cent. more than the Kaffir. The expenses of nearly every mine where Chinese labour has been employed have gone up; the expenses of every mine where Kaffir labour is employed have gone down. Mr. F. H. P. Cresswell had something pertinent to say on this topic in the admirable address on the Chinese labour question which he delivered the other day at Potchefstroom. Dealing with the argument that white labour was prohibitively expensive, and that in order to work low-grade mines coolies must be employed, the indefatigable fighter of the yellow man observed-- "I have picked out at random a number of mines, and I find that the mine showing the best results, the only one showing other than very bad results with coolies, is the Van Ryn Mine. This mine in the June quarter of 1904 was working at a cost of 24s. 5d. per ton, and milled 30,000 tons in that quarter; they were then using native and, I believe, no unskilled whites at all. A year before that they were milling 24,500 tons, at a cost of 28s. 2d. per ton, with 1,000 natives. In the June quarter of 1905 it worked at a cost of 21s. per ton, and milled 60,000 tons. In that quarter it was using some 2,000 coolies." Here is an instructive list which was compiled by the _Pall Mall Gazette_ on September 8 last:-- MINES WITH CHINESE LABOUR EXPENSES GOING UP June 1905. Avge., 1904. s. d. s. d. Durban Roodepoort Deep 28 2 27 5 Geldenhuis Deep 22 11 19 1 Glen Deep 24 0 20 8 Nourse Deep 28 9 26 7 Rose Deep 21 9 17 2 Jumpers Deep 27 9 23 0 MINES WITH KAFFIR LABOUR EXPENSES GOING DOWN June 1905. Avge., 1904. s. d. s. d. Ferreira Deep 21 7 26 5 Crown Deep 19 3 20 2 Langlaagte Deep 22 2 20 9 Ever since the beginning of the war, we seem to have been watching in a bewitched trance for the coming of the boom. Some people described Johannesburg as the enchanted city waiting for the spell to be removed for the boom to come. It has never come; and it never will come as long as Chinamen are employed to do the work that can be done by Kaffirs or white men. When the incurable idleness of the Chinaman and his cost of keep is added to that 1s. 6d. a day, he is dearer than the black man or the white man. The Rand lord was anxious to procure cheap labour and subservient labour. The white man could not be employed because he would have held the management of the country in the hollow of his hand, have formed trade unions, and insisted on proper wages and proper treatment. Enough black men, if time had been given, would have worked at the mines even at the reduced wages paid by the Rand lords. On this point, too, Mr. Cresswell, from whose Potchefstroom speech I quoted just now, had something instructive to say. In dissecting the official records, he observed-- "They show that between June 1904 and the end of last August--the last month for which statistics are available--the number of natives on the producing mines of the Rand had increased by 19,000, or an average increase of 1,355 a month. Does any man here for a minute really believe that if no Chinese had come here at all the gentlemen controlling the mines would not have done exactly the same from June 1904 to August 1905, as they did from June 1903 to June 1904? Does any one believe that in the latter period, as in the former period, they would not have managed to bring an average of a hundred more stamps into operation, and into the producing mines, for every 1,085 natives at least that they added to their force of native labour? If they had merely added on 100 stamps for every 1,085 natives, as they did up to June 1904, do you know how many stamps would have been working in August 1905? They would have had 6,503 stamps at work. Do you know how many they actually had at work? They had 6,845 stamps at work, or a paltry 342 stamps more than if no Chinese had ever been imported!" But the Kaffir could not be forced to work. There was nothing to prevent him from throwing up his employment when he had earned sufficient money and was returning to his kraal. The only chance, therefore, so the Rand lords argued, of acquiring the voteless and subservient labour that they wanted, was to get Chinese labour. The Chinaman is certainly voteless, but he has proved far from subservient--far less subservient than a Kaffir. Belonging to a more intelligent race, the child of an old though dormant civilization, he has known exactly how to deal with his masters. Of the gold extracted from the mines so much goes to wages and so much goes to dividends; the wages are spent in the country, the dividends are spent in Europe. Raise wages and you will render South Africa prosperous; lower wages and you will denude South Africa. The Chinese policy of so-called economy has ruined the small trader, and turned the main stream of South African gold to Park Lane, Paris and Berlin, with a thin stream to China. This country, which has given so much for the Transvaal, has benefited least by the gold mines. The Kaffir does nearly 50 per cent. more work than the Chinese coolie, and Mr. Cresswell has proved that for the actual work of mining it is better to employ a white man than a Kaffir. These are not fanciful deductions, but indisputable facts proved finally and conclusively. For almost two decades now the gold fields of South Africa have been the most potent force in English society, a force more for evil than for good. It is probable that we have lost more money in wars which are the direct result of the gold fever than we have ever made from the gold mines. If we were to estimate the cost of maintaining a large military force in South Africa, the financial effect of the unrest which existed in the pre-war period, the serious effect of the Jameson Raid on the money market, the £250,000,000 that we spent on the war, the millions that we have spent since in the work of repatriation, if we were to compare these figures with the amount of wealth extracted from the Rand, and made a simple profit and loss account, it is highly probable that we should find ourselves very considerably out of pocket. And yet, as if hypnotized by the glamour of gold, we continue to treat the mine owners as if they were some particularly favoured class. We continue to submit to their dictation, which has proved so ruinous in the past, and we deliberately disregard the voices of the whole Empire in their favour. Such a policy is neither good sense nor good business. The introduction of Chinese labour into the Rand on the top of all these grave financial and economical failures cannot be distinguished for a moment from madness. It would seem, indeed, that we were deliberately bent on destroying the Empire for the sake of the Jewish and un-British houses in Johannesburg. "He whom the gods intend to destroy they first make mad," is an ancient proverb, which seems strangely applicable to those gentlemen who are responsible for the management of our vast Empire. They say here in Britain that the stories of gangs of murderers roaming over the Transvaal are so many political fairy-tales, the result of party feeling, the usual bait for the hustings, the stalking-horse to bring into office one set of men and to throw out of office the other. They say that the objection of the British public to Chinese labour is a matter of hypocritical sentiment; that they really have none of those fine ideals which they pretend to; that they have no passion for liberty and freedom and the rights of man. Is not the Chinaman better off than he is in his own country? Such casuistry would justify the beating to death with the knout in this country of a black criminal, because in his own country capital punishment was carried out by the more cruel process of burying him alive in an ant-heap to be eaten by the ants in the heat of the African sun. It has brought terror and fear into the Transvaal. And terror and fear breed passions and vices which are a danger to every social community. It emphasizes the cruelty and cunning in a man's nature. It destroys in him that kindliness and sympathy--those "virtues of the heart," as Dickens used to call them--which in spite of all are still noble and fine sentiments to cherish. Professor James Simpson, of New College, Edinburgh, who lately visited South Africa with the British Association, takes the view, I see, that ere long the more evilly-disposed among the Chinese will have been worked out of their ranks, and the whole body will settle down to "strenuous, if automatic, labour." It is devoutly to be hoped that such will be the case, but up to the present there is nothing to indicate that it will be so. On the contrary, everything points to the fact that the Chinaman, emboldened by his successful efforts at checkmating the representatives of law and order, will perpetrate fresh outrages with increased impunity, and that the last phase of the yellow terror will be worse than the first. I had just written the foregoing when, happening to pick up an evening paper, the following Reuter message from Johannesburg, dated November 3, caught my eye:-- "CHINESE SECRET SOCIETY ON THE RAND. "_Johannesburg_, November 3. "Evidence given at the trial here of some Chinamen charged with being concerned in the disturbance at the New Modderfontein Mine, disclosed the existence of an organized secret society among the Chinese called the 'Red Door,' the object of which is the committal of crime. The members, who are all of bad character, are sworn to render each other assistance. The authorities are breaking up the society and repatriating the ringleaders." What has His Grace of Canterbury to say to this? I have seen in a recent election in England a poster evidently intended as a counterblast to the posters issued by the Opposition. It is a poster, in which Sir Henry Campbell-Bannerman is addressing an English miner, while in the distance two happy Chinamen grin pleasantly in the clean, well-laid-out mine. Says Sir Henry Campbell-Bannerman in effect, "My dear man, these men are robbing you of your labour." "Not at all," replies the white miner, "for every batch of these yellow men one white man is employed." This is intended as a defence of the statement made by Lord Milner on March 20, 1904, who then stated that he was prepared to stake his reputation on the estimate that for every 10,000 coloured labourers introduced there would be in three years' time 10,000 more whites in the country. In effect, the implication underlying this statement was, of course, that for every yellow man introduced, one white man would come into the country and find employment. Six months later--on September 5, 1904--the Colonial Secretary replied as follows, to a correspondent who wrote asking him whether it would be now advisable for a man to go out to the Transvaal. "Mr. Lyttelton," so ran the answer, "would certainly not advise any one to go out without a definite prospect of employment." So far from 50,000 white men finding employment in the Transvaal since the introduction of 50,000 Chinamen, the proportion is thousands below this number, and not even the poverty-stricken state of Poplar or West Ham can compare with the impecuniosity to be met with at every street corner of the Gold Reef City. There are thousands of men in South Africa who have been lured there by the prospects of the Rand in a daily state of destitution. The streets of Johannesburg are crowded with unemployed. The evil seeds of poverty and destitution have been scattered throughout the length and breadth of South Africa. Business in Durban is in a parlous condition. In Cape Town there are thousands of absolutely destitute men, women, and children who have to be provided for weekly out of funds now almost exhausted. Night after night these unfortunate wretches are compelled to sleep on the mountain slopes, whether it be winter or summer, and quite recently a man was found on one of the seats in the Public Gardens in such a state of starvation--for he had tasted nothing for five whole days--that he died an hour and a half after. This is the boasted prosperity which was to have come to the country through the introduction of Chinese labour. And yet Mr. Balfour writes to Mr. Herbert Samuel on November 22--_vide_ the correspondence in _The Times_--that he can see "nothing in the condition of things to induce the Government to reverse a policy which was recommended by an overwhelming majority in the Transvaal Legislative Council, with the approval of the great bulk of the white population."(!) Many attempts have been made to justify the pledge made by Lord Milner, that for every 10,000 introduced, 10,000 white men would find employment. This is a side of the question which was admirably put by Lord Coleridge in May last:-- The Government's policy seems to be that of the mine owner, or rather to serve that of the mine owner--to get labour as cheaply as possible, and, above all, to keep out the white man for fear he should grow independent. Mr. Lyttelton, speaking at Exeter on May 5, said:-- "The result of the introduction of Chinamen has been that 3000 white men are employed on the mines in addition to those that were employed before the introduction of that labour, and the result is that, in round figures, £500,000 has been received by British artisans." And so on. That is a completely misleading statement. I say, and I think I shall show, that the employment of Chinese has led to a decrease in the amount of white labour employed. Take the year from June 1903 to June 1904. The proportion of white men to Kaffirs during those twelve months remained practically stationary, at one in six, in round figures. On March 31, 1905, which is the date of the last Return we have, there were 105,184 Kaffirs working in the mines, and at the proportion of one-sixth there would have been 17,530 white men. But the number of white men employed at that date was only 16,235. Following that proportion, if the Chinese had not arrived we should have had at least 1300 or 1400 more white men employed than there are now. In addition to that there are over 34,000 Chinese employed not represented by a single white man, and Lord Milner does not hold out any hope that the proportion of white men to coloured labourers will in future be greater than one in fourteen. Crime and outrage are all that this degrading policy of Chinese slavery has brought to the country. There is an old text that says, "Be sure your sins will find you out." But rarely does it happen within the space of a year and a half, that a national crime meets with its reward. Immediately after the war one could not say that the Transvaal was peopled by a happy, industrious community, but it was a veritable heaven compared with the Transvaal of 1905; a veritable paradise of plenty. This has been the social effect of the importation of Chinese labour. The political effect is quite as serious. It has been said that the ultimate object of our rule in South Africa is the federation of all the states of South Africa into one commonwealth. It was the dream of Cecil Rhodes that South Africa should take her place among the commonwealths of the Empire. A constitution, such as exists in Australia at the present moment, was to be given to South Africa. The states of Cape Colony, Natal, the Orange River Colony and the Transvaal--all free, self-governing units--were to be welded together into one great self-governing Imperial unit. The introduction of Chinese labour in the Transvaal has rendered this impossible. Until these Chinamen are repatriated there will be no commonwealth for South Africa. In the first place, one of the essentials for such a federation would be that each state should be a self-governing colony. The mine owner knows, and the Government of Great Britain must know by now, that once self-government is given to the Transvaal, Chinese slavery would be at an end. Therefore the mine owners, who really "boss" the Transvaal, would take care to suppress any agitation in favour of self-government. As they refused the referendum so will they refuse the Boer and the Briton the right of free constitution. Hence the granting of responsible government to the Transvaal is deferred, and hence the federation of South Africa is postponed indefinitely. Again, Cape Colony would never consent to the federation of the Transvaal unless the Chinese labourers were repatriated. They have stated their opinion in no uncertain language. They would have no desire to enter into a partnership arrangement with a community which was hampered with such a grave social problem as Chinese labour. The Transvaal has done harm enough to Cape Colony, without adding this last straw to the load of evil which the gold mines of the Rand have bred for her. This is one of the Imperial political disasters resulting immediately from the importation of Chinese labour. There is another Imperial consideration even more serious. No one can read the protests sent to the Colonial Office by the great self-governing colonies that fought in the war, without realizing the gravity with which such a breaking away from the traditions of the Empire has been received by these colonies. Had we known it was to be war for the Chinese miners, the appeal made to Australia for men and arms would have had a very different effect. This is the substance of Australia's protest. Sentiment is a thing easily destroyed. Not even the Government, I think, can realize the indignation felt in Canada, Australia, and New Zealand by the Indentured Labour Ordinance. It should have been the policy of the Imperial Government to foster the tie that binds all the units of the Empire together. Mr. Chamberlain has voiced this opinion times out of number; our Imperial bards have sung it. The Government, which has always boasted that it was more Imperial than the Opposition, more wrapped up in the honour and the greatness of the Empire, has made this sentiment a commonplace in every election speech. And yet they have done more to destroy this bond than any other party in the state. Again, some attention should have been paid to the Dutch problem in the Transvaal. No attention was paid to it. We hear little now of the war. The Transvaal might have been ruled from the beginning by the British Government. Now and again the English papers mention casually the once familiar name of General Botha as having addressed the Het Volk. But the Dutch problem is never considered at all in England by the great men of the people. And yet it is a very vital and important question. Next to the native question it is, perhaps, the most vital question with which South Africa has to deal. Throughout South Africa the Boers are to-day the most thrifty, the most industrious, and almost the most agricultural section of the community. Of their ability in war we have had a long experience. Of their courage and patriotism we gained a knowledge at a great cost. They outnumber the English population in the Transvaal and Cape Colony. And South Africa will never be absolutely secured to the British Empire until the proportion of Boers to the total white population is reduced. It should have been the object of the Government, immediately after the war, to pack the Transvaal with Englishmen, to act as a counterbalance to the Boer population. This would have been a dangerous experience if there was no excuse for introducing such a large number of Englishmen. But the excuse was to hand. A splendid opportunity of reducing the population of the Boers to the total white population occurred at the re-opening of the mines. Increased use of white labour in the mines would have given to the Transvaal that preponderating majority of Britons which the safety of the Empire demands. The home Government did not take that opportunity, and South Africa has been left in exactly the same dangerous condition as she was after the war. Instead of performing this obvious duty to the country, the Government listened to the objections of the mine owners to swarming the country with white labour, upon the grounds that they would prove a disturbing element socially and politically, and agreed to the importation of the Chinamen. There is yet another grave political aspect of this deplorable problem. As the British people are apt to forget that the Boers outnumber the Britons in the Transvaal, so they forget, when considering the problem of South Africa, that there is a vast population of natives within our territory. These black tribes are utterly demoralized, and, it is recognized, by the war of the white man against the white man, and certain causes which could not have been foreseen, have increased the unrest and lawlessness. From Lagos to the Cape the same story has been told for the last two years: that the black man is growing restive under the white man's rule, that the white man is losing rapidly that superstitious authority which up till then he had always carried with him. The cause of this is the utter failure of the Germans to bring the war in Damaraland to a successful conclusion. The continued successes scored by the Hereroes have undoubtedly set aflame the ambitions of the black tribes throughout the south-west coast and inland. In some cases it has been fomented and worked up by Mahommedan and Ethiopian missionaries. In addition to these disturbing elements the death of Lerothodi, the paramount chief of Basutoland, has increased the natives' restlessness. The spectacle of Chinese bands roaming the country, looting farms, killing white men and raping white women has added to these symptoms of native disaffection. A rising among the Basutos--which more likely than not would be followed by a general rising of natives throughout Swaziland, Zululand and the Transvaal--would engage all our strength to suppress. We should have to make use of the constabulary which is now with great difficulty keeping under control the Chinese labourers. It is not hard to imagine the terrible state of affairs that would result from such a rising. While we suppress the black man the Chinaman would be left unguarded and unpoliced free to desert and to commit outrages. Indeed, should the Chinaman rise with the black man the safety of both Briton and Boer would be in the gravest jeopardy. These are the deplorable risks which are being run by maintaining in the Transvaal some 50,000 Chinamen. Financially the Chinamen have been a failure, a very grave failure. Socially their importation has proved disastrous. Instead of bringing wealth they have brought stagnation. Instead of bringing employment for the white man they have brought destitution and abject poverty. In introducing them it was recognized that some system must be devised by which they could be prevented from mixing with the population. That system has failed utterly and completely. They were to have brought wealth; they were to have brought employment for the white man. All they have brought is chaos. All they have done is to increase the output of gold at a cost which has decreased instead of increasing the mining companies' dividends. They have spread a terror throughout the length and breadth of the Transvaal. Economically and socially the policy proposed by the mine owners and forced upon the Government has proved deplorable. Their introduction has been a grave Imperial error which has aroused in the great self-governing Colonies anger and indignation. It has already loosened the bonds which the common danger of war had tightened. Their continued stay in South Africa, and the continued introduction of more coolies has given rise to the possibility of danger that is awful to contemplate. The rising of the black man would leave the policing of nearly 50,000 Chinamen in the hands of a few white men. It is not too much to say that no greater sin against the ideals of the British people, no more vicious and ruinous policy, has ever been adopted. THE END _Richard Clay & Sons, Limited, London and Bungay._ MUSIC FOR THE CHILDREN! _NOW READY, BOOKS 1 to 12, of_ "Our Little Folks' Nursery Rhymes" _FOR VOICE AND PIANO_, Each containing Words and Music (old notation and tonic sol-fa), of +Seven Nursery Rhymes+, and Thirty New Pictures (20 pp. with coloured wrapper). Price 1d. each. By Post 1½d. each. The 12 parts, post free, 1/6. _Specially designed for School and Kindergarten use._ THE SCHOOLMASTER says:--"Daintily illustrated and clearly printed, each number contains seven old nursery rhymes. Words, pictures and music (piano and voice) all for one penny. Truly wonderful!" THE PEOPLE'S STANDARD PIANOFORTE TUTOR is the most up-to-date and comprehensive Work of its kind yet offered, and the largest Tutor ever published at +_ONE SHILLING_+. Easily and yet progressively arranged, the Tutor is so attractive in character, that by its aid the pupil's taste is Instinctively guided into a practical acquaintance with some of the most melodious examples of Modern and Classical Music. _68 pp. 1/- net By Post 1/3._ _Write for complete catalogue of copyright music at popular prices._ NEW & ENLARGED NOW READY. COMPLETING 10th EDITION THOUSAND Cloth. 2/-. Postage, 3d. MNEMONICS IN A NUTSHELL; or HINTS ON MEMORY TRAINING. By Rev. ARTHUR C. SIDEY. Invaluable to _Ministers, Students, Lecturers, Readers, Teachers_, and all who wish to improve their memory. _Extract from Introduction._ Mnemonics is the name applied to a system of rules and forms used to assist the memory. Among those who have from time to time revived the science are Drs. Pick and Grey--Appleby, Stoke and Fairchild. A careful perusal of the various systems leads one to the conclusion that in most cases, notwithstanding the genius displayed by the authors, they have failed to bring about the desired end. Usually, the complexity of the system, or the lack of simple demonstration, renders the whole thing an impenetrable mystery. The _modus operandi_ of the writer in this treatise is to lay before the student a series of memory helps which, _having been subjected to experimental practice_, he believes will prove highly satisfactory. Common-sense is the basis of this work, and is also the key by which the reader will be successful in gaining a useful knowledge of "Mnemonics in a Nutshell." R. A. EVERETT AND SON, Publishers and Colonial Agents 10 and 12 Garrick Street, London, W.C. LUND'S BLUE ANCHOR LINE OF FAST PASSENGER STEAMERS Between +ENGLAND+, +SOUTH AFRICA+ and +AUSTRALIA+. Conveying H.M. Mails between South Africa and Australia. The steamers of this Line sail from London once a month, taking first and third class passengers for +LAS PALMAS (GRAND CANARY)+, +CAPE TOWN+, +ADELAIDE+, +MELBOURNE+ and +SYDNEY+. On the homeward voyage the steamers also call at +DURBAN (NATAL)+. Through bookings to and from W. AUSTRALIA, QUEENSLAND, NEW ZEALAND. ROUND-THE-WORLD TOURS. _The first class accommodation is situated amidships, on upper and promenade decks. The cabins are exceptionally large and all have port-holes. 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55606	----	Internet Archive (University of California Libraries) Transcriber's Notes: 1. Page scan source: Internet Archive https://archive.org/details/mandarinsfan00hume (University of California Libraries) [Illustration: Front Cover] POPULAR NOVELS BY FERGUS HUME Author of "The Mystery of a Hansom Cab," etc. ============================ In Crown 8vo. pictorial cloth. Price 6s. each. THE RED WINDOW Second Impression "For a skilfully conceived plot, succession of stirring incidents and series of surprises, not one of Mr. Fergus Hume's books is surpassed by 'The Red Window.' ... Is the best book of the kind issued this season."--_Newcastle Daily Journal_. THE YELLOW HOLLY Third Edition "A story of thrilling interest."--_To-Day_. "An exciting detective story."--_Academy_. A COIN OF EDWARD VII. Third Edition "A clever detective story. The book holds one spellbound to the end."--_Yorkshire Herald_. THE CRIME OF THE CRYSTAL Third Edition "Mr. Fergus Hume once more shows his skill in weaving an intricate plot which holds the reader enthralled until the last line. If this book were judged upon its merits it should obtain a popularity even greater than 'The Mystery of a Hansom Cab.'"--_Court Circular_. THE PAGAN'S CUP Third Edition "For the lover of mystery the author of the 'Mystery of a Hansom Cab' has prepared a feast in his new book. The story is beyond doubt enthralling, and will in every case be read at a sitting."--_Glasgow Herald_. THE RED-HEADED MAN Third Edition "Is perhaps the best piece of work that Mr. Fergus Hume has given us since he wrote 'The Mystery of a Hansom Cab.' The plot is very ingenious. Devoid of suspicion of padding, brightly and smoothly written, Mr. Fergus Hume's latest tale contains not a single dull chapter."--_World_. "A highly ingenious and well-constructed tale."--_Scotsman_. SHYLOCK OF THE RIVER Fifth Edition "Quite the most brilliant detective story Mr. Hume has given us since he made such a remarkable hit in 'The Mystery of a Hansom Cab.'"--_Literary World_. THE MASQUERADE MYSTERY Third Edition "Is as good as, if not better than, 'The Mystery of a Hansom Cab.' ... It is an excellent story."--_World_. ============================ In Crown 8vo, Cloth, 2s. 6d. Cheap Edition A MARRIAGE MYSTERY "Is ingeniously put together.... Mr. Hume's new book is good of its kind."--_Athenæum_. "The plot is very clever and well worked out."--_Vanity Fair_. ============================================================== London: DIGBY, LONG & Co., 18 Bouverie Street, Fleet St., E.C. THE MANDARIN'S FAN BY FERGUS HUME AUTHOR OF "THE MYSTERY OF A HAMSOM CAB," ETC. _SECOND EDITION_ LONDON DIGBY, LONG & CO. 18 BOUVERIE STREET, FLEET STREET, E.C. 1905 [Illustration: Frontispiece] "Well, sail in. We're ready for the play." CONTENTS CHAPTER. I. THE ADVERTISEMENT II. DR. FORGE III. MISS WHARF AT HOME IV. RUPERT'S SECRET V. CONCERNING THE FAN VI. BURGH'S STORY VII. THE WARNING VIII. THE BEGINNING OF THE BALL XIV. THE END OF THE BALL X. A MYSTERIOUS CASE XI. THE CANTON ADVENTURE XII. AT THE INQUEST XIII. THE WILL XIV. A MYSTERIOUS LETTER XV. THE ROTHERHITHE DEN XVI. THE FAN MYSTERY XVII. A DISAPPEARANCE XVIII. A SURPRISE XIX. A VISITOR XX. THE MANDARIN EXPLAINS XXI. WHO IS GUILTY? XXII. AFTER EVENTS XXIII. THE CHASE XXIV. THE FULFILLED PROPHECY THE MANDARIN'S FAN THE MANDARIN'S FAN CHAPTER I The Advertisement One July evening in the first year of the present century, two gentlemen were seated on the terrace of the mansion, known as Royabay. A small rose-wood table was placed between the deep arm-chairs, and thereon appeared wine, coffee, and a box of cigars. The young host smoked a briar and sipped coffee, but his guest, very wisely, devoted himself to superlative port and a fragrant cigar. Major Tidman was a battered old soldier of fortune, who appreciated good quarters and made the most of civilised luxuries, when other people paid for them. He had done full justice to a dinner admirably cooked and served, while Ainsleigh, the master of the feast had merely trifled with his food. Now, the wary Tidman gave himself up to the perfect enjoyment of wine, cigar and the quiet evening, while his host restlessly changed his position a dozen times in ten minutes and gloomed misanthropically at the beautiful surroundings. And these were very beautiful. From the moss-grown terrace shallow steps descended to smooth lawns and rainbow-hued flower-beds, and solemn pines girdled the open space, wherein the house was set. And under the radiance of a saffron coloured sky, stood the house, grey with centuries of wind and weather, bleaching sun and drenching rains. With its Tudor battlements, casements, diamond-paned and low oriel windows, half obliterated escutcheons; its drapery of green ivy, and heavy iron-clamped doors, it looked venerable, picturesque and peaceful. Tennyson sang in the Palace of Art of just such a quiet "English home the haunt of ancient peace." On the left, the circle of trees receded to reveal the majestic ruins of an abbey, which had supplied the stones used to construct the mansion. Built by the weak but pious Henry III., the Norman-French name Boyabbaye (King's Abbey) still designated the house of the courtier who had obtained the monastery from another Henry, less pious, and more prone to destroy than to build. The country folk had corrupted the name to Royabay, and its significance was almost lost. But the owner of this fair domain knew its meaning, and loved the ancient place, which had been in the Ainsleigh family for over three hundred years. And he loved it the more, as there was a possibility of its passing away from him altogether. Rupert was the last of the old line, poor in relations, and poorer still in money. Till the reign of George the first the Ainsleighs had been rich and famous: but from the time of the Hanovarian advent their fortunes declined. Charles Ainsleigh had thrown in his lot with the unlucky Stewarts, and paid for his loyalty so largely as to cripple those who succeeded him. Augustus, the Regency buck, wasted still further the diminished property he inherited, and a Victorian Ainsleigh proved to be just such another spendthrift. Followed this wastrel, Gilbert more thrifty, who strove, but vainly, to restore the waning fortunes of his race. His son Markham, endeavouring to acquire wealth for the same purpose, went to the far East. But he died in China,--murdered according to family tradition,--and on hearing the news, his widow sickened and died, leaving an only child to battle with the ancestral curse. For a curse there was, as dire as that which over-shadowed the House of Atreus, and the superstitious believed,--and with much reason,--that young Rupert as one of the Ainsleighs, had to bear the burden of the terrible anathema. Major Tidman knew all these things very well, but being modern and sceptical and grossly material, he discredited such occult influence. Expressing his scornful surprise, that Rupert should trouble his head about such fantasies, he delivered his opinion in the loud free dictatorial speech, which was characteristic of the bluff soldier. "Bunkum," said the Major sipping his wine with relish, "because an old monk driven to his last fortifications, curses those who burnt him, you believe that his jabber has an effect on the Ainsleighs." "They have been very unlucky since," said Rupert gloomily. "Not a bit of it--not a bit. The curse of Abbot Raoul, didn't begin to work,--if work it did, which I for one don't believe,--until many a long day after this place came to your family. I was born in this neighbourhood sixty and more years ago," added the Major, "and I know the history of your family. The Ainsleighs were lucky enough till Anne's reign." "Till the first George's reign," corrected the young man, "so far as money goes, that is. But not one of them died in his bed." "Plenty have died in their beds since." "But have lost all their money," retorted Rupert. "It's better to lose money than life," said Tidman evasively. "I'm not so certain of that Major. But you should talk with Mrs. Pettley about Abbot Raoul's curse. She believes in it." "And you Ainsleigh?" Rupert shrugged his shoulders. "We certainly seem to be most unlucky," said he, declining to commit himself to an opinion. "Want of brains," snapped the Major, who was one of those men who have a reason for everything, "your people wasted their money, and refused to soil their hands with trade. Such pig-headedness brings about misfortune, without the aid of a silly old fool's curse." "I don't think Abbot Raoul was a fool," protested the host mildly, "on the contrary, he is said to have been a learned and clever man. Aymas Ainsleigh, received the abbey from Henry VIII., and burnt Abbot Raoul in his own cloisters," he nodded towards the ruins, "you can see the blackened square of grass yonder, as a proof of the curse. Herbage will not grow there, and never will, till the curse be lifted." "Huh," said the Major with supreme contempt, "any chance of that?" Rupert smiled. "A chance that will never occur I fear. The curse, or prophecy, or whatever you like to call it----" "I call it rubbish," interpolated the sceptic. "Well doubting Thomas, it runs like this,--rude enough verse as you will see, but you can't expect a doomed man to be particular as to literary style," and Rupert recited slowly:-- "My curse from the tyrants will never depart, For a sword in the hands of the angel flashes: Till Ainsleigh, poor, weds the poor maid of his heart, And gold be brought forth from the holy ashes." "I spare you the ancient pronunciation Major." Tidman filled another glass with wine, and laughed scornfully. "I expect the old monk made up the second line to rhyme with ashes," he said expanding his broad chest. "I've heard that rubbishy poetry before. But haven't the Ainsleighs always married poor girls?" "Some did, but then they had money. It must be a poor Ainsleigh to wed a poor girl to fulfil the third line. My father and grandfather were both poor, but they married rich brides." "And what became of the cash?" "It went--I don't know how--but it went." "Gold turns to dry leaves in the hands of fools," said Tidman sagely, "there's some sense in the old fairy tales. But the fourth line? how can you get gold from ashes?" Young Ainsleigh rose and began to pace the terrace. "I'm sure I don't know," he said, "that's the curse. If I marry Miss Rayner, I certainly fulfil the third line. She is poor and I am a pauper. Perhaps when the enigma of the third line is solved by such a marriage the fourth line will be made clear." "I shouldn't hang on to that poetry if I were you, Ainsleigh. Let some one else solve the third line, and the fourth also if he likes. My advice to you is to marry a dollar heiress." Rupert looked savage. "I love Miss Rayner, and I marry her, or no one." Tidman selected another cigar carefully. "I think you are wrong," said he decisively, "you have only a small income it's true, but you have this grand old place, a fine old name, and you ain't bad-looking. I guess Miss Jonathan of N'Yr'k would just jump at you." "I love Olivia Rayner," repeated Ainsleigh doggedly. "But the obstacles my dear Don Quixote," argued the Major lighting the cigar, "you are poor and she, at the most, will inherit only a few hundreds a year from that aunt of hers. And that mass of granite Miss Wharf, don't like you, nor does her companion, the Pewsey cat." "Why do you call her a cat--the harmless creature." "Because she is a cat," said Tidman sturdily, "she'd scratch if she got a chance for all her velvet paws. But she hates you as old Miss Wharf does. Then there's Lady Jabe--" "Oh heavens," said Rupert and made a wry face. "You may well say that. She's a bullying Amazon of uncertain age. But she'll do her best to catch Olivia for her nephew Chris Walker." "Oh he's a nice enough fellow," said Rupert still pacing the terrace. "I've got nothing to say against him, except that he'd better keep out of my way. And after all Olivia would never marry a clerk in a tea merchant's firm." "But he's nephew to Lady Jabe." "What of that. She's only the widow of a knight and hasn't a penny to leave him. Why should she want him to marry Olivia?" "Because Miss Wharf will leave Olivia five hundred a year. Lady Jabe will then live on the young couple. And see here Ainsleigh, if you marry Olivia with that income, you won't be taking to wife the poor girl mentioned in the curse." "Oh hang the curse," said Rupert crossly. "By all means," said Tidman serenely, "you didn't bring me here to talk of that did you?" "No. I want to ask your advice?" "I've given it--unasked. Marry a dollar-heiress, and let old Jabe make Olivia her niece-in-law. By doing so you will be released from your pecuniary difficulties, and will also escape the hatred of Miss Wharf and that Pewsey cat, who both hate you." "I wonder why they do?" "Hum," said Tidman discreetly. He knew pretty well why Miss Wharf hated his host, but he was too wise to speak, "something to do with a love affair." "What's that got to do with me?" "Ask me another," replied Major Tidman vulgarly, for he was not going to tell a fiery young man like Rupert, that Markham Ainsleigh, Rupert's father, was mixed up in the romance, "and I wish you would sit down," he went on irritably "you're walking like a cat on hot bricks. What's the matter with you?" "What's the matter," echoed Ainsleigh returning to the arm-chair. "I asked you here to tell you." "Wait till I have another glass. Now fire ahead." But Rupert did not accept the invitation immediately. He looked at the lovely scene spread out before him, and up to the sky which was now of a pale primrose colour. There was a poetic vein in young Ainsleigh, but troubles from his earliest childhood had stultified it considerably. Ever since he left college had he battled to keep the old place, but now, it seemed as if all his trouble had been in vain. He explained his circumstances to the Major, and that astute warrior listened to a long tale of mortgages threatened to be foreclosed, of the sale of old and valuable furniture, and of the disposal of family jewels. "But this last mortgage will finish me," said Rupert in conclusion. "I can't raise the money to pay it off. Miss Wharf will foreclose, and then all the creditors will come down on me. The deluge will come in spite of all I can do." Major Tidman stared. "Do you mean to say that Miss Wharf"-- "She holds the mortgage." "And she hates you," said Tidman, his eyes bulging, "huh! This is a nice kettle of fish." Rupert threw himself back in the deep chair with an angry look. He was a tall finely built young man of twenty-five, of Saxon fairness, with clear blue eyes and a skin tanned by an out-door life. In spite of his poverty and perhaps because of it, he was accurately dressed by a crack London tailor, and looked singularly handsome in his well-fitting evening suit. Pulling his well-trimmed fair moustache, he eyed the tips of his neat, patent leather shoes gloomily, and waited to hear what the Major had to say. That warrior ruminated, and puffed himself out like the frog in the fable. Tidman was thickset and stout, bald-headed and plethoric. He had a long grey moustache which he tugged at viciously, and on the whole looked a comfortable old gentleman, peaceful enough when let alone. But his face was that of a fighter and his grey eyes were hot and angry. All over the world had the Major fought, and his rank had been gained in South America. With enough to live on, he had returned to the cot where he was born, and was passing his declining days very, pleasantly. Having known Rupert for many years and Rupert's father before him, he usually gave his advice when it was asked for, and knew more about the young man's affairs than anyone else did. But the extent of the ruin, as revealed by the late explanation, amazed him. "What's to be done?" he asked. "That's what I wish you to suggest," said Rupert grimly, "things are coming to a climax, and perhaps when the last Ainsleigh is driven from home, Abbot Raoul will rest quiet in his grave. His ghost walks you know. Ask Mrs. Pettley. She's seen it, or him." "Stuff-stuff-stuff," grumbled the Major staring, "let the ghost and the curse and all that rubbish alone. What's to be done?" "Well," said the young man meditatively, "either I must sell up, and clear out to seek my fortune, leaving Olivia to marry young Walker, or--" "Or what?" asked Tidman seeing Rupert hesitating. For answer Ainsleigh took a pocket-book from the lower ledge of the table and produced therefrom a slip of printed paper. "I cut that out of 'The Daily Telegraph,'" said he handing it to the Major, "what do you make of it?" Tidman mounted a gold pince-nez and read aloud, as follows:-- "The jade fan of Mandarin Lo-Keong, with the four and half beads and the yellow cord. Wealth and long life to the holder, who gives it to Hwei, but death and the doom of the god Kwang-ho to that one who refuses. Address Kan-su at the Joss-house of the Five Thousand Blessings, 43 Perry Street, Whitechapel." "A mixture of the Far East and the Near West, isn't it?" asked Rupert, when the Major laid down the slip and stared. "Lo-Keong," said Tidman searching his memory, "wasn't that the man your father knew?" "The same. That is why I cut out the slip, and why I asked you to see me. You remember my father's expedition to China?" "Of course. He went there twenty years ago when you were five years of age. I was home at the time--it was just before I went to fight in that Janjalla Republic war in South America. I wanted your father to come with me and see if he couldn't make money: but he was bent on China." "Well," said Rupert, "I understood he knew of a gold-mine there." "Yes, on the Hwei River," Major Tidman snatched the slip of print and read the lines again, "and here's the name, Hwei--that's strange." "But what's stranger still," said Rupert, bending forward "is, that I looked up some papers of my father and learn that the Hwei River is in the Kan-su province." "Address Kan-su," murmured Tidman staring harder than ever. "Yes. It seems as though this had something to do with your father." "It _must_ have something to do with him," insisted Rupert, "my father found that gold-mine near the Hwei River in the Kan-su province, and Lo-Keong was the Boxer leader who protected my father from the enmity of the Chinese. I believe he sent my father's papers to England--at least so Dr. Forge says." "Forge," cried Tidman rising, "quite so. He was with your father. Why not see him, and ask questions." "I'll do so. Perhaps he may tell me something about this fan." "What if he does?" "I might find it." "And if you do?" asked the Major, his eyes protruding. Rupert sprang to his feet and took up the slip. "Wealth and long life to the holder who gives it to Hwei," he read: then replaced the slip in his pocket-book, "why shouldn't I find that fan and get enough money to pay off Miss Wharf and others and keep Royabay." "But it's such a mad idea?" "I don't see it. If it hadn't to do with my father it would be," said Ainsleigh lighting his pipe, "but my father knew Lo-Keong, and by the names Hwei and Kan-su, it seems as though the locality of the gold-mine had something to do with the matter. I'll see old Forge and try to find this fan." "Oh," said Tidman, a light breaking on him, "you think Lo-Keong may have given the fan to your father?" "Yes, and Forge may know what luggage and papers were sent home, at the time my father died--" "Was murdered you mean." "We can't be sure of that," said Rupert his face flushing, "but I'll find that out, and get hold of the fan also. It's my chance to make money, and I believe Providence has opened this way to me." CHAPTER II Dr. Forge Royabay was distant five miles from Marport, a rising watering place on the Essex coast. In fact so large was the town, and so many the visitors, that it might be said to be quite risen, though the inhabitants insisted that it had not yet attained the height it yet would reach. But be this as it may, Marport was popular and fashionable, and many retired gentlepeople lived in spacious houses along the cliffs and in the suburbs. The ancient town, which lay in a hollow, was left to holiday trippers, and these came in shoals during the summer months. There was the usual pier, the Kursaal, the theatre, many bathing machines and many boarding houses--in fact the usual sort of things which go to make up a popular watering-place. And the town had been in existence--the new part at all events--for only fifteen years. Like Jonah's gourd it had sprung up in a night: but it certainly showed no signs of withering. In fact its attractions increased yearly. Major Tidman was a wise man, and had not travelled over the world with his eyes shut. He had seen colonial towns spring up and fade away, and knew how the value of land increases. Thus, when he returned to his own country with a certain sum of money, he expended the same in buying land, and in building thereon. This policy produced a lot of money, with which the Major bought more land and more houses. Now, he possessed an avenue of desirable villa residences in the suburbs which brought him in a good income, and which, by reason of their situation, were never empty. The Major did not live here himself. He was a bachelor and fond of company: therefore he took up his quarters in the Bristol Hotel, the most fashionable in Marport. As he had shares in the company which built it, he managed to obtain his rooms at a comparatively moderate rate. Here he lived all the year round, save when he took a trip to the Continent, and, as the Bristol was always full of people, the Major did not lack company. As he was a good-humoured little man, with plenty of small talk and a fund of out-of-the-way information, he soon became immensely popular. In this way the crafty Major had all the comforts of home and the delights of society without bearing the burden of an establishment of his own. His sole attendant was a weather-beaten one-eyed man, who acted as his valet, and who knew how to hold his tongue. Sometimes the Major would walk up town and inspect his property with great pride. It was balm to his proud heart to walk up and down the spacious avenue, and survey the red brick villas smiling amidst trim gardens. Tidman's birth was humble,--his father had been a small tenant farmer of the Ainsleighs,--and he had started life without even the proverbial shilling. For many years he was absent from his native land, and returned to find fortune waiting for him on the door step. To be sure he brought a nest-egg home with him. Nevertheless, but for his astuteness in buying land and in building he would not have acquired such a good income. So the Major had some cause for self congratulation, when he paced up and down Tidman's Avenue. Two days after his dinner with Rupert Ainsleigh, the Major spick and span as usual,--he always looked as though he had stepped out of a bandbox,--was strutting up the Avenue. Half way along he came face to face with a withered little woman, who looked like the bad fairy of the old nursery tales. She wore a poke bonnet, a black dress and, strange to say, a scarlet shawl. Her age might have been about fifty-five, but she looked even older. With her dress picked up, and holding a flower in her hand, she came mincing along smiling at the world with a puckered face and out of a pair of very black and brilliant eyes. She looked a quaint old-fashioned gentlewoman of the sort likely to possess a good income, for it seemed that no pauper would have dared to dress in so shabby and old-fashioned a manner. Consequently it was strange that the gallant Major should have showed a disposition to turn tail when he set eyes on her. She might indeed have been the veritable witch she looked, so pale turned Major Tidman's ruddy face. But the old dame was not going to let him escape in this way. "Oh good morning," she said in a sharp voice like a saw, "how well you are looking dear Major Tidman--really so very well. I never saw you look younger. The rose in your button-hole is not more blooming. How do you keep your youth so? I remember you"-- But the Major cut her short. He had enough of flattering words which he guessed she did not mean, and didn't want her to remember anything, for he knew her memory extended disagreeably to the time when he had been a poor and humble nobody. "I'm in a hurry Miss Pewsey," he said twirling his stick, "good-morning ma'am--morning." "If you're going to see Dr. Forge," said Miss Pewsey, her black eyes glittering like jet. "I've just come from his house. He is engaged." "I can wait I suppose, Miss Pewsey," said Tidman bristling, "that is, supposing I am calling on the doctor." "Then you really are: not on account of your health I'm sure. I do hope you aren't ill, dear Major. We all look forward to you shining at the ball, which is to take place at the Hotel Bristol." "I may be there, Miss Pewsey. I may be there,--in fact," the Major flourished his stick again, "I am one of the stewards." Miss Pewsey clapped together a pair of small claws encased in shabby cotton gloves. "There," she cried in a shriller voice than ever, "I knew it. I said so to my Sophia. Of course you know I always call dear Miss Wharf my Sophia; we have been friends for years--oh yes, for years. We grew on one stem and--" "You'll excuse me, ma'am--" "Oh yes--I know you are so busy. But I was saying, that you can give me a ticket for my nephew, Mr. Burgh--" "The tickets are for sale at the hotel," said Tidman gruffly. "Yes, but my poor nephew is poor. He also has come from foreign parts Major as you did, and just as poor. You must give him a ticket--oh really you must." Miss Pewsey spoke with an emphasis on every other word, and between her teeth as though she was trying to prevent the speech escaping too rapidly. "Now, Major," she coaxed. "I'll see, ma'am--I'll see." "Oh. I knew you would." She clasped her hands again, "come and see my Sophia--dear Miss Wharf, and then you can give Clarence--that's my nephew's name, sweet isn't it?--you can give him the ticket. But don't bring _him_," added Miss Pewsey jerking her old head backward in the direction of Dr. Forge's residence, "he's there." "Who is there, ma'am?" demanded the Major with a start. "Why that horrid Mr. Ainsleigh and--" Miss Pewsey got no further. The Major uttered something naughty under his breath, and taking off his hat with a flourish, bowed his way along the road, pursued by the shrill injunctions of the lady not to forget the ticket. Tidman walked more rapidly and less jauntily than usual, and stopped at Dr. Forge's gate to wipe his red face, which had now assumed its normal colour. "By George," said the old soldier, "that woman will marry me, if I don't take care. She ain't safe--she shouldn't be allowed out. Pewsey--a cat--a cat--I always said so. Lavinia Pewsey cat, to Benjamin Tidman gentleman. Not if I know it--ugh--ugh," and he walked up the steps to ring the bell. While waiting, his thoughts went from Miss Pewsey to Rupert. "I thought he had gone to town about that fan business," said the Major fretting, "what's he doing calling on Forge without telling me," and Tidman seemed very much annoyed that Rupert should have taken such a liberty. True enough, he found young Ainsleigh sitting with Dr. Forge. The doctor was a tall lean man with sad eyes, and a stiff manner. He was dressed in a loose white flannel suit, in a most unprofessional way. But everyone knew that Forge had money and did not practise, save when the fancy took him. With his watchful grey eyes and sad face and lantern jaws, Forge was not a prepossessing object or a medical attendant to be desired. Also his hands had a claw-like look, which, added to his thin hooked nose, made him look like a hawk. He spoke very little though, and what he did say was to the point: but he was not popular like the Major. A greater contrast than this mummy and handsome young Ainsleigh, can scarcely be imagined. The Major came puffing into the room and looked around. It was a small apartment furnished with Chinese curiosities. Rice-paper painted in the conventional Chinese fashion adorned the walls: a many-tasseled lantern gay with colour, dangled from the roof, and in each corner of the room a fat mandarin squatted on a pedestal. The furniture was of bamboo, and straw matting covered the floor. A bookcase filled with medical volumes looked somewhat out of place in this eastern room, as did the doctor's writing table, a large one covered with papers and books, and strange looking Chinese scrips. The room was as queer as its owner, and the atmosphere had that indescribable eastern smell, which the Major remembered to have sniffed up at Canton under disagreeable circumstances. Perhaps it was the revival of an unpleasant memory that made him sit down so suddenly, or it might have been the cold grey stony eyes of Forge. "Well Major," said Rupert who looked handsome and gay in flannels, and who seemed to have lost his melancholy looks, "who would have thought of seeing you here?" "I came to ask Forge to keep the exterior of his house a little more tidy," said the Major with dignity, "the steps have not been cleaned this morning, and there is straw in the garden, while the shrubs and flowers are dying for want of water." Forge shrugged his thin shoulders, and nodded towards some egg-shell china cups and a quaint looking tea-pot. But he did not speak. "No," replied the Major to the silent invitation. "I never drink tea in the afternoon--" "Or at any time," said Forge in a melancholy way. "I know you of old. Ainsleigh, take another cup." "Not in the Chinese fashion," said Rupert smiling, "you drink it too hot for my taste and I like milk and sugar. But now I've told you about the fan, I'll leave you to chat with Tidman." "The fan," said Tidman sitting up as straight as his stoutness would let him, "ah yes--I forgot about that. Well?" "Well," echoed Rupert lighting a cigarette, "I called at the joss house in Perry Street Whitechapel, and a nice sort of den it is. A Chinaman, heard my explanation about my father's connection with Lo-Keong, and then told me that the fan had been stolen from that gentleman, who is now a Mandarin." "Lo-Keong was well on the way to the highest post when I saw him last," said Forge preparing a roll of tobacco, "he was much in favour at the court." "But I thought he was a Boxer," said Tidman, "and surely----" "Oh he gave up the Boxers, and curried favour with the Dowager Empress. That was seven years ago, when I was last in China. I met you there Tidman." Again the disagreeable recollection of Canton crossed the Major's memory, and he nodded. "What about the fan?" he asked Rupert again. "It's of great value," said Ainsleigh, "at least this Chinaman told me so. Lo-Keong is now a Mandarin, and is high in favour with the Dowager Empress--" "And consequently is hated by the Emperor," murmured Forge. "I don't know, doctor, I'm not up in Chinese politics. However, the fan was lost by Lo-Keong some years ago, and being a sacred fan, he wants it back. This Chinaman Tung-Yu--" "Oh," said the Major, "then you didn't see Hwei or Kan-su?" "Those are names of a river and a province," said the doctor. "I know," snapped Tidman, "but they were in the advertisement." "Tung-yu explained that they were used only for the purpose of advertisement," said Rupert, "but to make a long story short, I told him that I had seen the fan--" "You saw the fan," asked Tidman directing a side look at Forge. "A dream--a dream," said the doctor. "No," insisted the young man. "I feel sure I have seen that fan, I can't think where. Perhaps it is amongst my father's effects sent from China by Lo-Keong years ago----" "Twenty years ago," said Dr. Forge, "and Lo-Keong would hardly send his own fan. I remember the things coming. I came home immediately before. A Chinaman brought your father's papers and luggage to Royabay. He left them with your mother and went away." "Were you not with my father when he died?" asked Rupert, "I always understood you were." "No. I was at Pekin at the time. Your father and I were working the mine together, and I went about some imperial concessions. While there I heard that your father was dead." "Was he murdered?" asked Rupert earnestly. "I really can't say, Lo-Keong said that he died of dysentery, but he was always a liar. He wouldn't be so high in favour with the Court if he wasn't. Lying is a fine art in the Far East, and--" "Yes--Yes," said Tidman impatiently, "but what has all this to do with the fan?" "I think it's all of a piece myself," said Rupert, "and I intend to get to the bottom of it. I have seen that fan somewhere--but I can't think--I can't," he reflected and shook his head, "no. But I have seen it doctor, so its no use your shrugging your shoulders. I want to find it and get that five thousand pounds." "What?" cried the Major leaping up on his stout little legs. "Lo-Keong is willing to give five thousand pounds for the return of his fan," said Ainsleigh, who had walked to the door, "and I intend to earn it." "Against my advice," said Forge looking up oddly. Rupert laughed. "Oh you are afraid," he said smiling. "Of you, not of myself. I know what the Chinese are, and have studied the race for years. I know how to deal with them; but you will get into trouble if you meddle with this fan business." "And so I say," cried Tidman emphatically. "Why, what do you know of the Chinese, Major?" asked Rupert. "More than I like to think of," said the little man wiping his bald head. "I went out to China for a trip seven years ago and met with an adventure in Canton--ugh!" "What sort of an adventure?" "Ugh!" grunted the Major again, "don't talk about it. It makes me cold to think of it. The Chinese are demons. Forge got me out of the trouble and I left China never to set foot in it again I hope. Ainsleigh, if you want that curse of yours to be realised, meddle with the fan. But if you want to keep your life and your skin, leave the matter alone." "I'm going to get that five thousand pounds," said Rupert, obstinately, "as soon as I can recollect where I saw that fan. The memory will come back to me. I am sure it will. Doctor you won't help me." "No," said Forge decisively. "I advise you to leave the matter alone." "In that case I must search it out myself. Good-day," and Ainsleigh strolled out of the room, light-heartedly enough, as he whistled a gay tune. Major Tidman looked grimly at the closed door, and then still more grimly at the doctor, who was paring his nails. "Our young friend is ambitious," he said. Forge laughed gently. "You can hardly blame him. He wants to marry Miss Rayner and save his ancestral home, so I am quite sure he will search for the fan." "He won't find it then," said the Major petulantly. "Won't he?" questioned Forge sweetly, "well, perhaps not. By the way you want to see me Major. Mrs. Bressy tells me you called at least twice yesterday." "Yes. She didn't know when you would be back." "I never tell her. I like to take the old lady unawares. She is a Dickens' character, with a fondness for drink, and for taking things which don't belong to her. I always go away and come back unexpectedly. Yesterday I was in Paris. Now I am at Marport. Well?" The Major had contained himself with difficulty all this time, and had grown very red in the face. The colour changed to a lively purple, as he burst out. "See here Forge what's the use of talking to me in this way. You have that fan." "Have I," said Forge smiling gently. "Yes. You know well enough that the very fan--the jade fan with the five beads, was the cause of my getting into trouble in Canton. You got me out of the trouble and you asked me to give you the fan, when I thanked you." "And you refused," said Forge still smiling. "Well I did at first," said Tidman sulkily. "I risked my life over the beastly thing, and--" Forge raised a thin hand. "Spare yourself the recital. I know." "Well then," went on Tidman excitedly. "You asked again for it when you came home, and I gave it to you. Ainsleigh is quite right. He _did_ see the fan. I showed it to him one day before you arrived. I see he has forgotten, but any stray thought may revive his memory. I don't want him to have the fan." "Why not?" asked Forge shutting his knife with a click. "Because I want the five thousand pounds for myself. I'm not so well off as people think, and I want"-- "You forget," said Forge gently, "you gave me the fan." "And have you got it?" "I have," he nodded towards a cabinet of Chinese work adorned with quaint figures, "it's in there." "Give it to me back." "No. I think I'll keep it." "What do you want to do with it?" asked Tidman angrily. Forge rose and looked stern, "I want to keep it from Lo-Keong," he said savagely, "there's some secret connected with that fan. I can't understand what the secret is or what the fan has to do with it: but it means life and death to this Mandarin. He'd give ten thousand,--twenty thousand to get that fan back. But he shan't." "Oh," groaned the Major, "why did I give it to you. To think that such a lot of money should go begging. If I had only known what the fan was worth." "You knew nothing about it save as a curiosity." "How do you know," demanded the Major. Forge who had turned towards the cabinet wheeled round and looked more like a hawk than ever as he pounced on the stout man. "What do _you_ know?" and he clawed Tidman's plump shoulders. "Let me go confound you," blustered the Major, "what do you mean by assaulting a gentleman"-- "A gentleman." Forge suddenly released the Major and laughed softly, "does Benjamin Tidman, old Farmer Tidman's son call himself so. Why I remember you--" "Yes I know you do, and so does that infernal Pewsey cat." Forge suddenly became attentive. "Miss Pewsey if you please. She is my friend. I may--" Forge halted and swallowed something. "I may even marry her some day." "What," shouted Tidman backing to the wall, "that old--old--" "Gently my good Benjamin, gently." "But--but you're not a marrying man." "We never know what we are till we die," said Forge turning again towards the black cabinet, "but you needn't mention what I have said. If you do," Forge snarled like an angry cat and shot one glance from his gray eyes that made Tidman shiver: then he resumed his gentle tone. "About this fan. I'll make a bargain with you." "What's that?" asked the Major avariciously. "I'll show you the fan, and if you can guess it's secret, I'll let you give it to this Tung-yu or Hwei or Kan-su or whatever he likes to call himself." "But you don't want Lo-Keong to have the fan," said the Major doubtfully. Forge opened the cabinet slowly. "So long as I learn the secret he can have the fan. I want to ruin him. He's a devil and--ah--" he started back. "The fan--the fan--" "What is it?" asked Tidman, craning over Forge's shoulder at an empty drawer, "where is the fan?" "Lost," cried Forge furiously, and looked like a dangerous grey rat. "Five thousand pounds gone," moaned the Major. "My life you fool--my life," cried the doctor, "it is at stake." CHAPTER III Miss Wharf at Home The best houses in Marport were situated on the Cliffs. They stood a considerable way back and had small plots of ground before them cultivated or not, according to the taste of those who owned them. Some of these gardens were brilliant with flowers, others had nothing but shrubs in them, presenting rather a sombre appearance, and a few were bare sun-burnt grass plots, with no adornment whatsoever. A broad road divided the gardens from the grassy undulations of the cliffs, and along this thoroughfare, rolled carriages, bicycles, and motor-cars all day during the season. Then came the grass on the cliff-tops which stretched for a long distance, and which was dotted with shelters for nervous invalids. At one end there was a round band-stand where red-coated musicians played lively airs from the latest musical comedy. Round the stand were rows of chairs hired out at twopence an afternoon, and indeed, all over the lawns, seats of various kinds were scattered. At the end of the grass, the cliffs sloped gradually and were intersected with winding paths, which led downward to the asphalt Esplanade which ran along the water's edge, when the tide was high, and beside evil-smelling mud when the tide was out. And on what was known as the beach--a somewhat gritty strand,--were many bathing machines. Such was the general appearance of Marport which the Essex people looked on as a kind of Brighton, only much better. Miss Sophia Wharf owned a cosy little house at the far end of the cliffs, and just at the point where Marport begins to melt into the country. It was a modern house comfortably furnished and brilliant with electric lights. The garden in front of it was well taken care of, there were scarlet and white shades to the windows and flower boxes filled with blossoms on the sills. Everyone who passed remarked on the beauty of the house, and Miss Wharf was always pleased when she heard them envy her possessions. She liked to possess a Naboth's Vineyard of her own, and appreciated it the more, when others would have liked to take it. She had an income of one thousand a year and therefore could live very comfortably. The house (Ivy Lodge was it's highly original name) was her own, bought in the days when Marport was nothing but a fishing village. She knew everyone in the neighbourhood, was a staunch friend to the vicar who was high church and quite after her own heart in the use of banners, incense, candles and side-altars, and on the whole was one of the leading ladies of the place. She had the reputation of being charitable, but this was owing to Miss Pewsey who constantly trumpeted the bestowal of any stray shilling being by her patroness. Miss Wharf was a lady of good family, but had quarrelled with her relatives. She was a tall, cold, blonde woman who had once been handsome and still retained a certain portion of good looks, in spite of her forty and more years. She lived with her niece Olivia the child of a sister long since dead, and with Miss Pewsey, to whom she gave a home as a companion. But Miss Wharf well knew, that Lavinia Pewsey was worth her weight in gold owing to the way she praised up her good, kind, devoted, loving, sweet, friend. The adjectives are Miss Pewsey's own, but some people said that Sophia Wharf did not deserve to have them attached to her. The lady had her enemies, and these openly declared, as the Major had done, that she was a mass of granite. Other people, less prejudiced, urged that Miss Wharf looked after Olivia, who was a penniless orphan. To which the grumblers retorted that Miss Wharf liked someone to vent her temper on, and that the poor girl, being too pretty, did duty as a whipping boy. This was possibly true, for Olivia and her aunt did not get on well together. In her own way the girl looked as cold as Miss Wharf, but this coldness was merely a mask to hide a warm and loving nature, while Miss Wharf was an ice-berg through and through. However, on the whole, Sophia Wharf was well liked, and took care to make the most of her looks and her moderate income and her reputation as a charitable lady. And Miss Pewsey was the show-woman who displayed her patroness's points to their best advantage. The drawing-room of Ivy Lodge was a flimsy, pretty, feminine, room, furnished in a gim-crack fashion, of the high art style. The floor was waxed, and covered with Persian praying mats, the chairs were gilt and had spindle legs the settee was Empire, the piano was encased in green wood and adorned with much brass, the sofa was Louis Quinze and covered with brocade, and there were many tables of rose-wood, dainty and light, heaped high with useless nick-knacks. The walls of pale green were adorned with water-colour pictures, and many mirrors draped with Liberty silk. Everywhere were large bowls of flowers, miniatures of Miss Wharf at various times of her life, curiosities from China and Japan and the near East, and all sorts of odds and ends which Miss Wharf had collected on her travels. Not that she had been to the East, for the evidences of civilisation in those lands came from Dr. Forge and Major Tidman, but Miss Wharf had explored Germany, Switzerland and Italy and consequently had brought home cuckoo-clocks, quaint carvings, pictures of the Madonna, Etruscan idols and such like things with which every tourist loads himself or herself. The result was, that the drawing-room looked like a curiosity shop, but it was considered to be one of the prettiest drawing-rooms in Essex. Miss Wharf looked too large and too substantial for the frail furniture of the room. She had a double chin and was certainly very stout. Very wisely she had a special arm-chair placed in the window--from which she could see all that was going on,--and here she sat working most of the day. She was great on doing fancy articles for bazaars, and silk ties for such gentlemen as she admired, for Miss Wharf, old maid as she was, liked male society. The Major was her great admirer, so was young Walker, Lady Jabe's nephew. Sophia was not very sure of this last gentleman, as she shrewdly suspected--prompted by Miss Pewsey--that he admired Olivia. Rupert also admired Olivia and wanted to marry her, a proceeding which Miss Wharf objected to. Miss Pewsey supported her in this, for both women were envious of the youth which had passed from them for ever. But Miss Wharf had also another reason, which Miss Pewsey knew, but of which Olivia was ignorant. Hitherto Sophia had kept it from the girl but this afternoon in a fit of rage she let it out. The explosion did not come at once, for Lady Jabe was in the room drinking tea, and Miss Pewsey was flitting about, filling odd vases with flowers. Olivia sat on the settee very straight and very cold, looking dark and handsome, and altogether too splendid a woman for her aunt to tolerate. "Can't you do something?" said Miss Wharf turning her jealous eyes on the girl. "I should think you must be tired, twiddling your thumbs all day." "I'll do whatever you wish me to do," said Olivia coldly. "Then help Lavinia with the flowers." Olivia rose to do so, but Miss Pewsey refused her assistance in a shrill speech spoken as usual between her teeth and with an emphasis on every other word. "Oh no dear, dear, Sophia," cried Miss Pewsey, "I have just finished, and I may say that my eye for colour is better than Olivia's--you don't mind my saying so, darling," she added to the girl. "Not at all," replied Miss Rayner who detested the sycophant. "I never give the matter a thought." "You _should_ think," said Lady Jabe joining in heavily. She was a tall masculine-looking woman with grey hair and bushy grey eyebrows, and with an expression of face that suggested she should have worn a wig and sat on the bench. She dressed in rather a manly way, and far too young for her fifty years. On the present occasion she wore a yachting-cap, a shirt with a stand-up, all round, collar and a neat bow; a leather belt and a bicycling skirt of blue serge. Her boots and shoes were of tanned brown leather, and she carried a bamboo cane instead of a sunshade. No one could have been more gentlemanly. "You should think," added she once more, "for instance you should think of marriage." Miss Wharf drew herself up in her cold way. "I fancy that Olivia, few brains as she has, is yet wise enough not to think of marriage at twenty." "It would not be much good if I did," said Olivia calmly. "I have no money, and young men want a rich wife." "Not all," said Lady Jabe, "there's Chris----" "Chris is out of the question," said Miss Rayner quickly. "And pray why is he?" asked Sophia in arms at once. She never liked Olivia to have an opinion of her own. "Because I don't love him." "But Chris loves you," said Lady Jabe, "and really he's getting a very good salary in that Tea-merchant's office. Chris, as you are aware, Olivia, is foreign corresponding clerk to Kum-gum Li & Co. He knows Chinese," finished Lady Jabe, with tremendous emphasis. "Oh," Miss Pewsey threw up her claws, "how delicious to be made love to in Chinese. I must really ask Mr. Walker what is the Chinese for 'I love you.'" "Olivia prefers to hear it in English," said Miss Wharf, spitefully. "Quite so, aunt," retorted her niece, her colour rising, "but don't you think we might change the subject. It really isn't very interesting." "But indeed I think it is," said Lady Jabe smartly, "I come here to plead the cause of poor Chris. His heart is breaking. Your aunt is willing to----" "But I am not," said Miss Rayner quickly, "so please let us say no more about the matter. Mr. Walker can marry Lotty Dean." "But she's a grocer's daughter," said Lady Jabe, who was herself the widow of an oil-merchant, "and remember my title." "Lotty isn't going to marry you, Lady Jabe." "Nor Chris, if I can help it," said the other grimly. Miss Wharf was just about to crush Olivia with a particularly disagreeable remark, when the door opened and two gentlemen entered. One was Christopher Walker, a slim, boyish-looking young fellow, in that callow stage of manhood which sees beauty in every woman. The other, who followed, was Miss Pewsey's nephew. There was nothing immature about him, although he was but twenty eight years of age. Clarence Burgh was tall, thin, dark and had the appearance of a swashbuckler as he swaggered into the room. His black eyes snapped with an unholy light and his speech smacked too much of the Lands at the Back of Beyond, where he had passed the most part of his life. He was an expert rider, and daily rode a bucking squealing, kicking stallion up and down the road, or took long gallops into the country to reduce the fire of the unruly beast. Burgh was bad all through, daring, free, bold, and had a good deal of the untamed savage about him; but he was emphatically a man, and it was this virile atmosphere about him, which caused his withered aunt to adore him. And indeed Miss Wharf admired him also, as did many of the women in Marport. Clarence looked like a buccaneer who would carry a woman off, and knock her down if she objected to his love-making. Women like that sort of dominating lord of the world, and accordingly Mr. Burgh had nothing to complain of, so far as feminine admiration went, during his sojourn in Marport. But he had set his affections on Olivia, and hitherto she had shrunk from him. All the same, brute as he was, she admired him more than she did effeminate Chris Walker, who smacked of the city and of a feather-bed-four-meals-a-day existence. "Oh," squeaked Miss Pewsey, flying to the hero and clasping him round the neck, "how very, very sweet of you to come." "Hadn't anything else to do," said Clarence gracefully, casting himself into a chair. All his movements were graceful like those of a panther. "How are you Miss Wharf--Miss Rayner--Lady Jabe. I guess you all look like a garden of spring flowers this day." "But flowers we may not pluck," sighed Chris prettily. Burgh looked at him with contempt. "I reckon a man can pick what he has a mind to," said he drily, and then shifted his gaze to see how Olivia took this speech. To his secret annoyance, she did not let on, she heard him. "Will you have some tea, Mr. Burgh," asked Miss Wharf. "Thanks. It seems to be the sort of thing one must drink here." "You drank it in China didn't you?" asked Lady Jabe. Burgh turned quickly. "Who told you I had been in China?" he asked. "My nephew Chris. He heard you talking Chinese to someone." The dark young man looked distinctly annoyed. "When was that?" he asked Chris. "Two weeks ago," replied the other, "you were standing at the corner of the Mansion House talking to a Chinaman. I only caught a word or two in passing." "And I guess you didn't understand," said Clarence derisively. "There you are wrong. I am in a Chinese firm, and know the language. As a matter of fact I write their foreign letters for them." "The deuce you do," murmured Burgh looking rather disturbed; but he said no more on the subject, and merely enquired if the ladies were prepared for the ball at the Bristol which was to take place in six days. "I hear it's going to be a bully affair." "Oh charming--charming," said Miss Pewsey. "Major Tidman is one of the stewards. I asked him for a ticket for you Clarence dear." "I'll go, if Miss Rayner will dance with me." "I don't know that I am going myself," said Olivia quietly. "Nonsense," said her aunt sharply, "of course you are going. Everyone is going--the best ball of the season." "Even poor little me," said Miss Pewsey, with her elderly head on one side. "Huh," said the irreverent Clarence, "ain't you past hoppin' aunt?" "I can look on and admire the younger generation dear." "It will be a splendid ball," prattled Chris sipping his tea and devouring very crumbly cake, "the Glorious Golfers are going to spend a lot of money in decorating the rooms. I met Mr. Ainsleigh. He is going--a rare thing for him. He goes nowhere as a rule." Miss Wharf glanced sharply at her niece, but beyond a faint flush, she could detect no sign of emotion. "People who are as poor as young Ainsleigh, can't afford to go out," she said deliberately. "I think the wisest thing that young man could do, would be to marry a rich girl," and she again looked at Olivia. "He is certainly very handsome," said Lady Jabe pensively, "very much like his mother. She was a fine-looking woman, one of the Vanes of Heathersham." "I remember her," said Miss Wharf, her colour rising, "and I never thought she was good-looking myself." "Not to compare to you dear," said the sycophant. But this time Miss Pewsey made a mistake. The remark did not seem to please Miss Wharf. "I don't care for comparisons," she said sharply, "its bad taste to make them. I like Mr. Ainsleigh, but I don't approve of his idling." "He has never been brought up to do anything," said Lady Jabe. "Then he ought to turn his hands to making money in some way. That place is mortgaged and at any time may be sold. Then he won't have a roof over his head." "I have never met Ainsleigh," said Burgh musingly, "I guess I'd like to have a jaw along o' him. Wasn't his father murdered in China?" Miss Wharf became suddenly pale. "It is said that he was, but I don't believe it." "Then he's alive," said Clarence pertinaciously, and looking at her. "No. He's dead, but he died of dysentery, according to Dr. Forge who was with him when he died--somewhere in the north I believe." Burgh evidently stored this in his memory and looked keenly at the woman whose bosom rose and fell and whose colour came and went under his steady gaze. Miss Pewsey saw that the persistent look was annoying her patroness, and touched her nephew's arm gently. The touch recalled Burgh to his senses and he looked away. This time his eyes rested on Olivia. Her colour was high and apparently she had been listening with interest to the conversation. "Huh," thought the swashbuckler, "and it was about young Ainsleigh," and he stored this in his memory also. To make a sensation, which he dearly loved to do, Chris Walker announced that he would bring a distinguished visitor to the ball of the Glorious Golfers. "He's a Chinaman," said he pompously, "and was mixed up in the Boxer rebellion." None of the ladies seemed impressed, as none of them knew anything about the Boxers, or their rebellion. But Burgh looked up. "Who is he anyhow?" he demanded, compressing his lips. "A Chinese gentleman called Tung-yu." "What a very extraordinary name," said Miss Pewsey, and suddenly began to take a deep interest in matters Chinese. While she chatted with Chris who was willing to afford her all information. Burgh folded his arms and leaned back apparently thinking deeply. His face was not pleasant to behold. Olivia saw the evil look and shivered. Then she rose and was about to steal from the room, when her aunt called to her sharply. "Don't go Olivia I want to speak with you." "And I want to take my usual walk," said Lady Jabe rising and settling her collar, "Chris?" A tap on the shoulder brought the slim young man to his feet, and giving his arm to his masculine aunt the two departed. Burgh rose also. "I guess I'll make tracks also?" he said smartly. "Walker, you and I can have a yarn together, later." Miss Pewsey followed her nephew to the door. "Do you wish to ask young Mr. Walker more about Tung-yu?" she asked. Clarence wheeled round quickly. "What do you know of him aunt?" "It's such a strange name," simpered Miss Pewsey, looking very innocent, "and I am interested in China. You were out there a long time Clarence." "Amongst other places, yes. I hung round a bit." "Then you must tell me all about the natives," said Miss Pewsey, "I want to know of their robes and their fans and--" "Fans," said Burgh starting: but Miss Pewsey with an artificial laugh flitted back into the room, leaving him uneasy and non-plussed. He walked away frowning darkly. Olivia would have walked away also frowning, as she was indignant at the way in which her aunt had spoken of Rupert. But Miss Wharf gave her no chance of leaving the room or the house. Olivia had never seen her aunt so pale or upset. She looked as white as chalk, and controlled her emotion with difficulty. Lavinia Pewsey glanced at the two, guessed there was about to be a row, and glided away. She always kept out of trouble. "Now," said Miss Wharf when they were alone, "I want an explanation." CHAPTER IV Rupert's Secret Olivia was astonished to see the emotion of her aunt, for, as a rule Miss Wharf was cold and self-contained. The two had never got on well together, and the elder woman was undeniably jealous of the youth and superior good looks of the younger. But as Olivia owed bed and board to her aunt, she always behaved as well as possible to one who was very trying in many ways. It is only just to say, that Miss Pewsey made matters much worse by tale-bearing, and probably had she been out of the house, Miss Wharf and her niece might have got on better. But they could never have been congenial companions. The difference between their natures was too great. "Yes," said Miss Wharf throwing herself back in her seat, and feeling irritated by the silence of Olivia. "I want an explanation." "What about?" asked the girl seating herself opposite and folding her hands, which, Miss Wharf noticed with bitterness, were more slender and delicate that her own. "You know well enough." "If it's about Rupert"-- "There," snapped the aunt, "I knew you would guess. Yes it is about young Ainsleigh, and how dare you call him Rupert?" "Because I love him," said Olivia firmly, and looked directly into the cold blue eyes of her aunt. "Then you must put this love out of your head. You shall never marry him--never--never--never." "If I choose, and I do choose," said Olivia calmly, but with a fine colour. "I shall certainly marry him. I am of age--" "Yes, and a pauper." "Rupert would not marry me for my money." "He is wise; for you have none." "It is kind of you to speak to me in this way," said Olivia, "to remind me of obligations. I am aware that my parents died poor and left me a penniless orphan. I am aware that you took me in and educated me and--" "And acted like a mother to you," said Miss Wharf vehemently. "No. You never acted like a mother. With you, I have had a most unhappy life." "Olivia," the elder woman started furiously from her chair, "how dare you say that. Have I grudged you clothes or food. Did I not send you to a first-class school and--" "So far as material things are concerned you have done everything Aunt Sophia, and I thank you for what you have done--" "A fine way you have of showing it," scoffed Miss Wharf. "But a mother you have never been," went on Olivia calmly, "you have never given me a kind word; you speak to me before visitors as you should not do: you make me slave for you and run messages and talk of me to others as though I were a servant. What love have you ever shown me?" demanded Olivia, starting up in her turn, and also becoming excited. "I long for love. My heart yearns for it. I would like to be a daughter to you, but always you have kept me at arm's length. Aunt Sophia let me go. I can earn my bread as a governess, or as a typist. It will be better for us both." "No," said Aunt Sophia, looking as hard as stone. "I shall not let you go. If you have any gratitude in you, you will remain and help me to manage the house." "You have Miss Pewsey." "She is not a relative, you are." "And so you treat me worse than you do her. Well, Aunt Sophia, I am not ungrateful though you seem to think I am. I shall stop with you. I only ask for a little more consideration." "I give you every consideration. As for love, I cannot give it to you or to anyone. I gave all the love my nature was capable of feeling to Markham Ainsleigh, and he rejected my love. Yes, you may look astonished, but it was this man's father who broke my heart." "And that is why you don't want Rupert to marry me." "That is the reason," said Miss Wharf sitting down and growing more her calm stony self. "I was almost engaged to Markham Ainsleigh: but he saw Violet Vane and fell in love with her. He left me and made her his wife. Can you wonder that I hate the son of the woman who stole my love away from me?" "Rupert is the son of the man you loved----" "And of the man who cheated me. Look at my lonely life, at my starved heart. I hate the Ainsleighs--there's only one left but I hate him. And when I heard Markham was murdered in China I was glad--yes, very glad." "What an unforgiving nature you have." "I have every right to be unforgiving. Markham ruined my life. And do you think I'll let you marry Rupert--the son of that woman. No! Marry him, and I leave what money I have to Miss Pewsey." "You can if you like, Aunt Sophia. I don't want your money." "Reflect," said Miss Wharf violently. "I have a thousand a year. Half of that goes to a distant relative, and the remainder you shall have if you will give this man up. Five hundred a year is not to be thrown away." "I cannot give Rupert up," said Olivia firmly. "Think girl," pleaded Miss Wharf, her face becoming red and wrinkled with the violence of her passion, "there are other men who love you. Young Walker would make you a good husband, and Lady Jabe is most anxious for the match." "I like Chris," said Olivia, "and I have known him all my life. But I can't marry him. I want a master when I marry." "Then take Clarence Burgh," said Miss Wharf, "he will be your master." "No. He's a brute." "He's a man--much more of a man than Rupert Ainsleigh." "I deny that," said Olivia fiercely. "He is. Clarence has been all over the world. He has fought everywhere--" "So has Major Tidman. Do you advise me to marry him?" "He would make you a better husband than Rupert, old as he is. That young Ainsleigh is a dreamer. He is on the point of losing his estates, yet he sits at Royabay doing nothing." "He intends to do something, and save the estates." "Never. He is not the sort of man to work. Olivia if you will take Chris Walker, or Clarence Burgh for your husband I shall leave you five hundred a year. If you refuse I give you nothing." "I prefer nothing--and Rupert." "Then you shall not have him. I'll ruin him first." Olivia started. "You can't ruin him. You talk wildly." "Oh do I," sneered Miss Wharf, "that shows you know little of me or of my business. Listen. I bought up a mortgage on the Royabay estate. It cost me money which I could ill afford to pay away. But I bought it so as to ruin the son of that woman Vane who took Markham from me. I always intended to buy the estate, or at least to drive Rupert from the place, but if you will give him up, I shall forego my revenge. Now what do you say?" "Nothing," faltered Olivia, who had turned very pale. "I don't know what to say." "Will you give the man up." "I won't see him, if that will please you." "No. It doesn't please me. You must give him up, and engage yourself to Mr. Walker or to Mr. Burgh." "I cannot--I cannot--" said poor Olivia. Miss Wharf stamped her foot and bit her lip. "You are as obstinate as your mother was before you," she said savagely. "I shall give you one month to make up your mind, and that is very generous of me. If you surrender Rupert and choose one of the other two, I will not foreclose the mortgage and will leave you five hundred a year." "When can you foreclose?" asked Olivia anxiously. "By the end of the year. So it rests with you, if Rupert Ainsleigh leaves his home in six months or keeps it. Now you can go." Olivia Rayner was not a girl who would stand dictation. But for some reason or another she meekly bowed her head and went out, leaving Miss Wharf to calm down over her needle-work. The girl went to her own room, and lay down to think over the situation. What she thought or what plan she conceived, it is difficult to say; but she came down to dinner quite composed. Her aunt looked at her sharply, and Miss Pewsey with suspicion, but neither of them made any remark bearing on the storm. On the contrary Miss Wharf chatted about the ball and talked of her dress and even advised Olivia about her costume. "You will look very well in white," said Miss Wharf. "But not so lovely as my Sophia in pale blue," said Miss Pewsey with her usual emphasis. "I know you will be the belle of the ball darling Sophia." "I have been the belle of several balls in my time," said Miss Wharf good-humouredly. "And will be still," purred Miss Pewsey like the cat she was, "my dear nephew, said you were a rattling fine woman." "It sounds like one of Mr. Burgh's speeches," said Olivia with great contempt. She knew that the buccaneer loved her, and therefore disliked him the more. "Oh Olivia how can you," cried the little old maid, throwing up her hands, "when poor, dear, darling, Clarence worships the ground you walk on. He's got money too, and wants a wife!" "Let him marry Lotty Dean then." "That retired grocer's daughter," cried Miss Pewsey, drawing herself up, "no indeed. I may be poor, but I am of gentle blood Olivia. The Pewsey's have been in Essex for generations. My papa was rich and could afford to send me to a fashionable school when I met my own Sophia. But poor sweet papa lost his money and then--oh dear me." Miss Pewsey squeezed out a tear. "What sad times I have had." "You're all right now, Lavinia," said Miss Wharf stolidly, eating fruit and sipping port wine. "Yes dearest Sophia, thanks to your large and generous heart. I have no one in the world but you and Clarence. He is the son of my only sister, and has travelled--" "In China," said Olivia. Miss Pewsey narrowed her eyes and looked as though about to scratch. "In China, of course. But why do you make that remark, Olivia?" The girl shrugged her shoulders. "I observed that Mr. Burgh has not very pleasant recollections of China," she said deliberately, "he was not pleased to find that Mr. Walker could talk the language, and he was uncomfortable when the name Tung-yu was mentioned." Miss Pewsey bit her lip. "Do you know anything of Tung-yu?" "No. Why should I. All I know, is that Chris Walker says he will bring the man down here for the ball." The little old maid looked hard at the girl, but Olivia bore her scrutiny composedly. She wondered why Miss Pewsey stared so hard, and laid such emphasis on the Chinese name, but the matter slipped from her mind when she retired to her room. She would have wondered still more had she known that Miss Pewsey came up the stairs and listened at the door of the bed-room. Olivia had arranged to meet Rupert near the band-stand, as their meetings were secret because of Miss Wharf's dislike. Certainly the young man had come to the house, and Miss Wharf had received him with cold dignity: but when he showed a marked preference for Olivia's company, she gave him to understand that she did not approve. Henceforth Rupert stopped away from Ivy Lodge, and met Olivia at intervals near the band-stand. So Olivia, putting on a dark dress and a veil, slipped out of the house, and took her way along the brilliantly lighted front. She had often gone before and always had left her aunt and Miss Pewsey sitting in the drawing-room, Miss Wharf working and the companion reading the newspaper. Miss Wharf never by any chance looked at a newspaper herself, but left it to Miss Pewsey to cull the choice news for her delectation. So Olivia, feeling quite safe, stepped lightly along to where the crowd gathered round the stand. It was a perfect night and very warm, therefore many people were seated in the chairs and strolling across the grass. Olivia went to a certain corner, and, as she expected, found her lover. He was not in evening-dress, but for the sake of the meeting had assumed a dark serge suit. As she advanced, he recognised her and came forward taking off his hat. Then he gave her his arm and the two strolled to the far end of the green where they sat down under the fence which was round the flag-staff. There, removed from everyone, they could talk in moderately loud tones. "My darling," said Rupert, possessing himself of Olivia's hand. "I thought you would not come. You were late." "I could not get away before. Miss Pewsey watches me like a cat does a mouse, and with the same disposition to pounce, I expect." "She's a detestable woman," said Rupert angrily, "why can't she leave you alone?" "I don't know. Rupert, she wants me to marry her nephew." "What, that bounder who rides so furiously," cried Rupert fiercely, "you don't mean to say that he dares----" "Not in words, but he looks--oh," Olivia shivered, "you know the sort of look a man like that, gives you." "I'll twist his neck if he insults you." "Then Miss Pewsey would complain to my aunt and I should get into trouble. Oh, Rupert," she said softly, "I am so afraid." "Of that man. Nonsense." "No--of everything. I can keep Mr. Burgh off--" "Who is he?" asked Rupert jealously. "Miss Pewsey's nephew. I can manage him, bold as he is. But it is you I am afraid of. Listen," and Olivia told the young man what she had learned from Miss Wharf that afternoon. "She can ruin you," said the poor girl, almost crying, "and she will if she learns the truth." Rupert pressed the hand he held. "Why not tell her the truth," he said. "I'm willing to face poverty if you are." "Rupert, are you mad? If Aunt Sophia learned that we were married--hark, what was that?" and Olivia rose, and nervously peered into the shadows, "I thought I heard a noise." "It's nothing. Only some rats in the long grass within the fence. No one's about. They're all over at the band. But about our marriage, Olivia. Miss Wharf must learn sooner or later." "Yes. But you know I asked you to keep it quiet that I might not have trouble with her. It was selfish of me, for it would have been braver of me to have faced her anger and then have told all the world that we were married at that Registry Office. But I'm glad now I didn't. She would have ruined you." "She can't do anything till the end of the year." "But why didn't you tell me she held this mortgage?" "Well, I thought that before the end of the year I might manage to pay it and the other mortgages off. Then we could announce that we were married, and live at Royabay on what small income I have." "I don't mind about the income," said Mrs. Ainsleigh, for that Olivia secretly was. "I'd live on a shilling a day with you, darling. But aunt threatens if I marry you to cut me out of her will. She would do so at once if she knew the truth, and leave the money to Miss Pewsey." "Let her. I daresay that old maid has schemed for it. She's a wicked old woman that and worthy of her bounder of a nephew. Never mind about the money or the mortgage. Let us announce the marriage. I don't like the position you occupy. It is not fit that my wife should be exposed to the attentions of a cad like this Burgh." "Wait till the end of the year," said Olivia feverishly, "then you may be able to get money, to put things straight. It is best to keep the matter quiet now. Oh how I wish we had money Rupert." "I may be able to make it out of the fan?" "What fan?" asked Olivia looking at him. Rupert laughed. "I forgot you don't know." He took the slip of paper from his pocket-book and lighting a match he read the description of the fan. "I went up to the place," he continued dropping the lucifer, "and saw a Chinaman, Tung-yu--" "What," said Olivia starting, "why that is the man Mr. Walker is going to bring to the ball. He's a clerk in the firm of Kum-gum-Li and Company." "That's strange. I thought he was the keeper of the Joss house in Perry Street, Whitechapel. Humph! Does Walker know of the fan?" "I don't know. But he knows this Tung-yu, and I think, so does Mr. Burgh. He seemed much annoyed when he heard the name." "What about?" "I can't say. And Rupert. Mr. Burgh speaks Chinese--" "He must be very clever then for I hear it is a most awful language to get hold of. Was Burgh ever in China?" "Yes. He brought the fan from that place?" "Fan." Rupert turned round sharply, "what fan?" "The one you talk about," said Olivia innocently. "I recognised it at once from the description you read just now." "Are you sure," said Rupert much excited, for he never expected to hear of the missing fan from Olivia of all people. "Quite sure--positive. The fan is painted green on one side and the sticks on the other are overlaid with thin jade, so I suppose it gets its name from the mineral. Then it has a cord of yellow silk with four beads and half a bead, and----" "It is the same. Where did Burgh get it?" "I don't know. He says he brought it from China, and offered it to me. I refused it----" "I should think so," said Ainsleigh fuming, "well?" "Then he gave it to my aunt." "And has Miss Wharf got it now?" "I think so, but I have not seen it lately. I expect if she has, she will use it at the ball." "And Tung-yu who advertises, is coming to the ball," mused Rupert, "there doesn't seem much chance for me. I expect your aunt will make the money after all." "It won't be much. Who would give a large sum for that fan?" "Tung-yu will. He is ready to give five thousand pounds." "Oh," said Olivia with real regret, "and I refused it." "I'm glad you did," cried Rupert angrily, "I would rather everything went than that you should accept presents from that bounder. Well I fear my chance is gone Olivia. I'm ruined." "Dearest I will face the ruin with you," and in the shadows they kissed. CHAPTER V Concerning the Fan Rupert returned to Royabay in rather a melancholy frame of mind. He found himself in a very difficult situation, and there did not seem to be any chance of his extricating himself therefrom, now that Miss Wharf possessed the fan. It was strange that she should have received it from Clarence Burgh, and Rupert wondered how that dashing young gentleman became its owner. However, there was little use speculating on this. Miss Wharf had the fan, and probably she would keep it, unless the large sum of money offered by Tung-yu tempted her to do business. Ainsleigh wondered also, if the old maid had read the papers, and if she had seen the advertisement. "But what does it matter to me," said Rupert, as he turned up the avenue. "I won't get the money, and Miss Wharf will see me hanged first before she will let me make such a sum. While I am poor, she holds me in her clutches, and thinks by means of that mortgage to prevent my marriage with Olivia. What would she say if she knew that we were already married. I was wrong to consent to keep the affair secret, even though Olivia wished it. In any case Miss Wharf can do nothing, till the end of the year, and the truth is bound to come to her ears sooner or later. Then she will strike and spare not. I believe that's the motto of the Wharfs, and it fits her spiteful temper excellently." Then Rupert went on to reflect on what Olivia had told him of Aunt Sophia's romance with Markham Ainsleigh. The young man had never heard of it before, as he knew little of his father, who had gone to China, a few years after his heir was born. In fact Markham only waited till there was a male Ainsleigh to carry on the succession and to inherit what remained of the estates, and then steamed to the Far East to seek fortune. But fortune had proved unkind and the poor man had died--whether of dysentery or by violence, it is difficult to say. Some people said one thing and some another, but even Rupert did not know the truth. Dr. Forge, who had worked the mine in the Kan-su province along with Markham, knew the absolute truth, and he ascribed the death to dysentery, so Rupert, for the time being at all events, was willing to accept this explanation. He had no reason to doubt the loyalty of Theophilus Forge who had been a college chum of his father's. Thinking in this way and considering whether it would not be advisable to proclaim his marriage so as to release his wife from the odious attentions of Clarence Burgh, the young man arrived at the house. He was met in the hall by Mrs. Petley, who announced that Major Tidman was waiting to see her young master. Rupert nodded in an absent-minded way and was going to the library where the Major was kicking his heels, when Mrs. Petley caught him by the arm. "It's walking again," said Mrs. Petley, whose fat face was pale, "and say what you like Master Rupert, trouble is coming." She was a stout old dame with a red face suggestive of drink, a most unfair thing to be said of her as she drank nothing stronger than gin and water, one tumbler a night before retiring. But Mrs. Petley had been a cook in her early days; later on she assumed the position Rupert's nurse, and finally, having married Petley the butler, she became housekeeper of Royabay. She was a common vulgar old woman, but loyal to the core, and adored Rupert. When he had to dismiss the greater part of his servants he retained John Petley, and John Petley's wife, who continued to serve him faithfully and always hoped for better days. Mrs. Petley, being intensely superstitious, was always influenced by the appearance of Abbot Raoul whose walking was supposed to predict bad luck to the Ainsleighs. If the ghost did not appear Mrs. Petley was happy, but when it did she always prognosticated evil. And it must be admitted that Rupert usually had more trouble with his creditors when Abbot Raoul _did_ visit his old haunts. He seemed to be a most malignant spirit. But Rupert as an educated man, was not going to admit occult influence. "Nonsense Mrs. Petley," said he, shaking her off, "so far as trouble is concerned, Abbot Raoul might remain visible for ever. Am I ever out of trouble?" "No, that you ain't, worse luck. But this walking means something extra special as I said to John." "Where did you see the old beast, I mean Abbot Raoul of course." Mrs. Petley started. "Hush deary," she whispered looking round in a fearful manner, "don't speak evil of speerits. It may be round, and you might anger it. I saw it in the cloisters." "Near the place?" asked Rupert. "Aye, standing on the black square where its mortal body was burnt poor soul. It was pinting to a tree." "To what tree--there are plenty in the cloisters." "To the copper beech, as you might say Master Rupert. And angry enough he looked. I nearly fainted." "You should be used to the ghost by this time Mrs. Petley." "Ghosts is things custom won't help you with," said Mrs. Petley mysteriously, "they freeze your blood every time. Just as I was thinking of a good scream and a faint, it vanished." "Into thin air like the witches in Macbeth," said Rupert lightly. "Well it doesn't need Abbot Raoul to come and tell me trouble is near. I'm likely to have a good deal by the end of the year." "Oh Master Rupert what is it?" gasped the old woman. "Nothing I can tell you at present," said Ainsleigh carelessly, "I have a good mind to seek Abbot Raoul myself and see if he can't help me; but I'm not psychic as you are Mrs. Petley. I see nothing." "And a good thing too," said the ex-cook solemnly, "if I spoke to you it would be to make matters worse, though worse they can't be." "Oh yes they can," said Rupert grimly. "I may have to leave--" "Never," cried Mrs. Petley smiting her fat hands together. "Royabay can never do without an Ainsleigh within its walls." "It will have to content itself with Abbot Raoul, and I hope he'll jolly well frighten the creditors." "Drat them," said Mrs. Petley vigorously, "but Master Rupert why did it pint to the copper beech." "I can't say. Ask it when next you see it. But I must go to Major Tidman. He'll be angry if I keep him." Mrs. Petley tossed her head and snorted. "The idear of old Farmer Tidman's son, being angry with the likes of you Master Rupert. I mind him when he was a brat of a lad and--" "Yes--yes--but I must go," said Ainsleigh rather impatiently and left Mrs. Petley talking to the air. Major Tidman, whose ears must have burnt at the thoughts, which occupied Mrs. Petley's brain was seated in the most comfortable arm-chair he could find, and smoked a good cigar. He had a bottle of port and a glass before him, and apparently had made himself at home while waiting. "Hope you don't mind my making free with the wine-list," said Tidman, who looked rather uneasy, as he rose. "I've waited two hours." "What about?" said Rupert, throwing his cap down and sinking wearily into a near chair, "anything wrong?" "I am," said the Major, "all wrong my dear boy. You see in me a beast and a false friend." "Indeed. How do you make that out?" "I have been concealing things from you," said the Major ruefully, "and all to make money. I'm really getting avaricious, Ainsleigh," added the Major desperately, "and it's spoiling my character." "Well," said Rupert filling his pipe, and wondering what this out-burst meant, "Byron says that avarice is a fine old gentlemanly vice. If you have only that fault to blame yourself for, you are very lucky." "But I should have told you about the fan." Rupert blew out the match he had just lighted and sat up. "What's that about the fan?" he asked sharply. "I know something about it," said Tidman fortifying his courage with a glass of wine, "and I should have spoken the other evening after dinner when you read that advertisement. But I thought I'd get the fan myself and secure the five thousand pounds--though to be sure I didn't know what that Tung-yu would pay for it at the time." "No," said Rupert drily, "I told you that later. Well, Major, you haven't treated me quite on the square, but I forgive you. I expect neither of us will make money out of that fan." "No," said Tidman still more ruefully. "Forge has lost it." Rupert looked puzzled. "Forge? What do you mean? "Oh, this is part of my confession of trickery," said the Major rubbing his bald head. "You see Ainsleigh, I held my tongue when you read out about the fan, but I knew where it was all the time." "And where was it?" asked the young man staring. "Forge has it--or rather Forge had it," said the Major, and he related his interview with the doctor when Rupert had departed. "So you see," added the Major sadly "I'm punished for my wrong-doing. I'm very sorry, as I like you, Ainsleigh, and after all I'd be glad to see you make the money, though I'm not so well off myself as people think, and five thousand pounds would help me a lot. However, I hope you will think I have made amends for my momentary lapse from squareness by thus confessing." "Oh that's all right Tidman, But treat me openly for the future. How did you know that Forge had had the fan?" Rupert did not tell what he had heard from Olivia for the moment. He first wished to hear all that the Major had to say. Tidman had certainly acted wrongly, as he should not have taken advantage of Rupert's confidence, but now he apparently wished to behave properly and Ainsleigh put the Major's temporary deceit out of his mind. "I gave Forge the fan," blurted out the Major. "The deuce you did," said Ainsleigh looking puzzled. "And where did you get it?" "In Canton seven years ago," confessed Tidman, "I was travelling there for my health, and I had an adventure." "What was that?" But Tidman did not seem inclined to speak out. "I'll tell you on another occasion," he said with a shudder, "it was not a very pleasant adventure, and Forge, who was in Canton at the time, got me out of it. I stuck to the fan though." "Oh, so the fan was the cause of the adventure?" "Partly," admitted Tidman reluctantly. "I'll tell you later as I say," he wiped his forehead, "I can't tell you now, it's too awful. I got the fan though and Forge took a fancy to it. He asked me for it in Canton and I refused. He asked again in England and I gave it to him. He's had it all these seven years, locked up in that black japan cabinet with the gold figures--" "I know. Its in that Chinese room of his. Well?" "After you went away the other day I asked him to give me the fan back, as I wanted to get the money from Tung-yu. Forge refused, as he said the fan has something to do with a secret--" "Whose secret?" "Lo-Keong's secret. He is the real owner of the fan you know. Forge seems to hate Lo-Keong, and said the fan would get him into trouble." "But how--how?" asked Ainsleigh impatiently. The Major wiped his face again, "I don't know--I can't say. But Forge said there was a secret connected with the fan--" "You said that before," cried Rupert becoming exasperated. "I don't know what I am saying, and that's the truth," stammered Tidman becoming hotter and redder, "but Forge said if I found the secret he would give me the fan. He then opened the cabinet and found that the fan was gone." "What did he say?" "He turned as white as a sheet, and said that his life was at stake." Rupert rose to pace the room. The mystery of the fan piqued him, "I wonder what he meant by that?" he asked himself. "Something horrid if it has to do with the Chinese," said the Major, "you have no idea what brutes they are. But Forge thought that Mrs. Bressy, the old woman who looks after him, might have sneaked the fan, as she is fond of taking things and pawning them. But she swore she had never set eyes on it." "Wasn't the cabinet locked?" "Yes. That's the strange part, and Forge has the key on his watch-chain. The lock wasn't broken, and no other key would fit it, so how it was opened, is a mystery. But the fan's gone." "Quite so," said Rupert, facing the Major sharply, "and Miss Wharf has the very fan you speak of." Tidman fell back in his chair and gasped till he was purple in the face. "Wh--a--a--t," he drawled out. "Sophia Wharf?" "Yes. Olivia told me, when I explained how I wished to find the fan and make money. It seems that young Burgh----" "A detestable young cad," snapped Tidman. "I agree with you. He dares to admire my--to admire Olivia," said Rupert nearly letting his secret slip out, "and, to gain her good graces, he offered her this fan. She refused, and he then presented it to Miss Wharf, who took it and who has it now." "Oh," groaned the Major, "and it's worth five thousand. What luck some people have." Rupert shrugged his shoulders. "The luck will not come our way," he replied carelessly, "and to tell you the truth I don't much care. I expect Miss Wharf will sell the fan to Tung-yu." "But she doesn't know about his wishing to buy it?" "She may have seen the advertisement, and you know Tung-yu is coming to the ball at the Bristol." Major Tidman rose like a jack-in-the-box. "Who says so?" he asked. "Young Walker. Tung-yu is not the keeper of the Whitechapel Joss-house as I thought. He is a clerk in the firm of Kum-gum-Li." "Chris Walker also works for them," interpolated the Major. "Certainly, and he is bringing Tung-yu to the ball. I don't know why, and I don't much care," added Ainsleigh somewhat crossly. "I am about tired of this fan business. What will you do?" Major Tidman buttoned his coat. "I'm going straight to Forge," he said, "and I shall tell him that young Burgh had the fan. I know how he got it." "Do you, indeed," said Rupert yawning. "Yes. Miss Pewsey stole it from the cabinet." "Nonsense. Why should she do that?" "Because she's always about Forge's house. He told me that he might marry her--ugh," the Major sneered, "fancy marrying that old cat." "Different people have different tastes," said Ainsleigh coolly, "but if Forge is going to marry Miss Pewsey all the more reason she should not steal the fan." "But she did," insisted the Major. "I'm sure she stole it and gave it to that scamp of a nephew so that he might gain Miss Rayner's goodwill. You see, Miss Pewsey would like to see Burgh married to Olivia, as she--Miss Pewsey I mean--could then finger the five hundred a year Miss Wharf will leave her niece." "He had better be certain that Olivia will inherit the money first," said Rupert grimly, thinking of the secret marriage, "and Miss Pewsey hates Olivia." "She hates everyone," said Tidman shrugging his plump shoulders, "but she hasn't a penny to bless herself with, and when Miss Wharf dies she will be cast on the world. Even five hundred a year is a consideration to her, and if her nephew can secure that by marrying Olivia, why, all the better for Miss Pewsey." But Rupert shook his head. "If Miss Pewsey had that scheme in her head, she would be more friendly with Olivia," he said, "and she can set her mind at rest: Burgh will not marry Olivia." "He's a dangerous rival Ainsleigh." "Pooh. I can manage that young man and half a dozen like him. You don't think I'd give up the girl I love, to anyone, Tidman." "No," said the Major, looking at the frank brave face of his host, "but Burgh is unscrupulous, and will make mischief. However, perhaps Forge will deal with him for this fan business. When Forge learns that Miss Pewsey has stolen his fan, he won't marry her. I'll have the satisfaction of spoiling her plans at all events." "She seems to have a great many plans according to you," yawned Ainsleigh, "but frankly I think you have found a mare's nest. I don't believe anything will come of the matter. It's moonshine." Tidman marched to the door. "We'll see," said he determinedly. "I believe trouble is coming to you through young Burgh," and he departed. Rupert left alone lighted his pipe and thought of Mrs. Petley's fancy concerning the ghost. "If this is the trouble," said he to himself. "I don't mind. Burgh won't get Olivia unless over my dead body. As to this fan--pah!" But he little knew what disasters the fan would bring to him. Abbot Raoul's ghost was not walking for nothing. CHAPTER VI Burgh's Story Next morning Major Tidman was seated in his well-furnished room in the Bristol Hotel. From the window he commanded a fine view of the mouth of the Thames, of the pier, and of the picturesque lower town. But the view did not gain the attention of the Major, worthy as it was of his notice. He seated himself at the table which was spread for breakfast, and proceeded to make a good meal. Perhaps he did not eat so well as usual for the Major was worried, as was evident from the cross expression of his face. On the previous night he had gone to see Forge, and had told him how Miss Wharf became possessed of the fan. The doctor had listened to him quietly, but had refrained from making any observation, even when Tidman reminded him of his remark, as to his life being at stake. The interview had on the whole been unsatisfactory, and Tidman was not at all pleased. He wished to learn the truth about the fan. "There's some secret connected with it," muttered the Major, while he devoured buttered eggs rapidly, "and that secret means a lot of money. Five thousand pounds is worth having. I could buy that plot of waste land near the church and build an hotel there. I believe it would pay. Then there's Forge's life, which, as he says, hangs on the fan, though in what way I can't find out. If I got the fan, I might be able to get something out of him. I would make Forge and Tung-yu bid against one another, and perhaps I'd get even more than is offered. Ainsleigh can't say anything against me now, as I am acting quite square and above board. He's got no enterprise," thought the little man with some scorn, "or he'd get Olivia to take the fan from her aunt and make the money out of it. But if he won't, I will, so I'll see Miss Wharf to-day and try what I can do. I daresay I'd get it from her for a five pound note--that is if she hasn't seen the advertisement. She's keen after money, too--as keen as I am. Humph," added Tidman, filling himself a second cup of coffee. "I wonder why Tung-yu was such a fool as to tell Ainsleigh he was willing to give five thousand. Anyone, not knowing the value of the fan, would get it cheap. There's a mystery about it, and the mystery means money. I must get to the bottom of the affair. Forge is no good, as he is holding his tongue: even when I told him that Miss Pewsey stole it, he did not seem to mind. But he'll never marry her after this, so I've spoilt her chance of marriage, the cat. Though why Forge should marry an old fiend who is eighty, if she's an hour, I can't make out. But Forge was always secretive," ended the Major in disgust, and reached for the _paté-de-foi-gras_. His meal was interrupted by a smart young waiter, who intimated that a lady and gentleman wished to see the Major. Tidman was rather surprised at a call being paid at ten o'clock in the morning: but he was still more surprised, when at the heels of the waiter appeared Miss Pewsey and Dr. Forge. The latter looked much his usual self, hungry, dismal, and like a bird of prey: but Miss Pewsey had a colour in her cheeks and a fire in her black eyes, which made her look younger. It seemed that her errand was not a peaceful one. "To what am I indebted--?" began the courtly Major, when the little old maid cut him short with vinegary politeness. "Indebted," she said, standing very straight and stiff, and quite ignoring the chair placed for her. "Oh, indeed,--how very polite we are. Judas!" she snapped out the word with flaming eyes. "Oh, Judas!" "Really, Miss Pewsey----" "You'd like to see me in the dock would you?" cried Miss Pewsey tossing her head and trembling with wrath, "I'm a thief am I--oh you military fat Judas." "Did you come here to insult me?" asked Tidman growing purple. "If you put it in that way I did," sniffed the lady, "and also to ask plainly, what you meant by stating to my promised husband here, that I stole a fan from his cabinet?" Tidman changed from purple to scarlet. He had not reckoned on the doctor speaking to Miss Pewsey, and he turned a look of reproach on his friend. The doctor immediately took up the challenge, "I see you think I have been too free with my tongue," said he deliberately, "it is not my custom as you know. But I told you Major that I was engaged to Miss Pewsey, and I thought it only right that she should know the aspersions you have cast on her character." "A character," cried the lady, "which has stood the test of years and which stands deservedly high. I am a Pewsey of Essex," she added as though the whole county belonged to her, "and never before have I been accused of thieving--Judas," she shot out the name again, and the Major quailed. He saw that he was in the wrong, owing to Forge's betrayal, and had to make the best of it. "I am extremely sorry," he said apologetically, "quite a mistake." "Oh, indeed. A jury will give their opinion on that," sniffed the maiden. "No! No I beg of you----" "The damages will be laid at five thousand pounds." "The price of the fan," said Tidman starting. "What do you mean by that?" asked Miss Pewsey, her eyes glittering. "I mean, just nothing." "Oh yes, you do. Make a clean breast of it Benjamin Tidman. Oh, to think that the son of a farmer, who was almost a labourer, should dare to speak evil of a Pewsey of Essex. But the law--the law," said the irate lady shaking a thin finger, "and five thousand pounds." "Get it out of the fan." "Is it worth that?" asked Forge coldly. "You heard what young Ainsleigh said," answered Tidman as coldly. "Yes I remember; but we have not come about the price, but about your libel on this lady." "I apologise," said Tidman, seeing nothing else was to be done. "Apology isn't money," snapped Miss Pewsey. "Oh, if you want money, again I refer you to the fan." The Major was getting angry. He didn't very much care if Miss Pewsey did bring an action at the moment, though with saner thoughts he would have been horrified at the idea. "I apologise," said he again, "but I was misled by Dr. Forge." "How were you misled by me?" demanded Forge impassively. "You said you had the fan in your cabinet, and that it had been stolen. Mrs. Bressy swore she did not take it, and I thought--" "That I was the thief," cried Miss Pewsey shrilly, "oh how clever of you--how very, very clever. You thought that I got the key from the watch-chain of Dr. Forge where he always carries it, to open the cabinet and steal a fan, I knew nothing about it. I never even knew of the existence of the fan--there Judas," snapped the lady once more. "Then I was mistaken, and Dr. Forge was mistaken also." "I confess that I did make a mistake," said the doctor with a sad face, "but that does not excuse your libelling the lady I hope to call my wife. My memory is not so good as it was, and I fear that the drugs I take to induce sleep have impaired what memory I have left. I suffer from neuralgia," added the doctor turning to Miss Pewsey, "and in China I contracted the habit of opium smoking, so--" "Marriage will put that right," said the lady patting his hand. "I do not expect a perfect husband--" "I never knew you expected a husband at all," said Tidman injudiciously. "Ho," cried Miss Pewsey drawing herself up. She had been standing all the time, "another libel. I call Dr. Forge to witness it." "I really think Tidman you'd better hold your tongue," said the doctor gently, "but I must explain, that I quite forgot that I had parted with the fan. Yes. I received it from you, seven years ago when I brought you home after that adventure in Canton. Two years later I returned to China, to see Lo-Keong on business, and I took the fan with me. He received it." "No," said the Major shaking his bald head, "I can't believe that, Forge. You declared that you hated Lo-Keong and that the fan would harm you and him also." "I do hate the man," cried Forge looking more like a bird of prey than ever, "but I got a concession about a gold mine, by giving back the fan. I wanted the money more than Lo-Keong's life. As to my own life, it was in danger from the enemies of the Mandarin, who want the fan to ruin him. That was why I spoke as I did. Are you satisfied?" "Not quite," said Tidman who was puzzled, "how did the fan come to England again?" "My nephew Mr. Burgh will tell you that," said Miss Pewsey, "when he has administered the beating I have asked him to inflict." "Beating," shouted the Major snatching a knife from the breakfast table, "let that young whelp dare to hint such a thing, and I'll kick him round Marport." "Clarence is not the man to be kicked." "Nor am I the man to be beaten, I have apologised and that is quite enough. If you are not satisfied Miss Pewsey, you can bring your action and I'll defend it. Beating indeed," snorted Tidman, "I'd like to see anyone who would dare to lay a hand on me," and he looked very fierce as he spoke. "Very good," said Miss Pewsey in a stately manner, "if you will tell me all about the fan, I shall ask Clarence to spare you the beating." "Clarence can go to--" the Major mentioned a place which made Miss Pewsey shriek and clap her fingers to her ears. "I am not the least afraid of that cad and bounder--that--that----" "Libel again Major Tidman." "Pooh--Pooh," said Forge rising, "let us go Lavinia." "Not till I hear about the fan. For the sake of my dear Sophia who has the fan, I want to hear." "All I know, is, that the fan was advertised for----" "I saw the advertisement," said Miss Pewsey, "but I said nothing to dear Sophia, although I recognized the fan from the description in the newspaper. She never looks at the papers, and trusts to me to tell her the news." "So you kept from her a piece of news out of which she could make five thousand pounds." "Really and truly," said Miss Pewsey clutching her bag convulsively and with glittering eyes, "who says so--who pays it--who--?" "One question at a time," interrupted Tidman, now quite master of himself. "Tung-yu, the man Ainsleigh saw at the Joss House in Perry Street Whitechapel, offered five thousand pounds for the return of the fan. Ainsleigh saw the advertisement and--" "I know how he came to inquire about the fan," said Miss Pewsey, "Dr. Forge told me, but I did not know the amount offered." "Will you tell Miss Wharf now." "No," said Miss Pewsey very decisively, "nor will any one else. My Sophia's health is delicate and if she had a shock like that inflicted on her, she would die." "What the offer of five thousand pounds--" "The chance of being killed," said Miss Pewsey, "but I will leave my nephew Mr. Burgh to explain that Major Tidman. I accept your apology for thinking me a--but no," cried the lady, "I can't bring myself to pronounce the nasty word. I am a Pewsey of Essex. All is said in that, I think. Good morning, Major. My abstinence from bringing an action lies in the fact, that you will refrain from unsettling my Sophia's mind by telling about the fan. Good-morning. My Theophilus will we not go?" Before the Major could recover from the bewilderment into which he was thrown by this torrent of words, Miss Pewsey taking the arm of the melancholy doctor had left the room. When alone Tidman scratched his chin and swore. "There's something in this," he soliloquised. "I believe the old woman wants to get the money herself. By George, I'll keep my eyes on her," and the Major shook his fist at the door, through which the fairy form of Miss Pewsey had just vanished. Later in the day Tidman dressed to perfection, walked up the town twirling his stick, and beaming on every pretty woman he came across. The stout old boy was not at all appalled by the threat of Miss Pewsey regarding her buccaneering nephew's attentions. When he saw the gentleman in question bearing down on him, he simply stopped and grasped his stick more firmly. If there was to be a fight, the Major resolved to have the first blow. But Burgh did not seem ready to make a dash. He sauntered up to Tidman and looked at him smilingly, "Well met old pard," said he in his slangy fashion. "My name to you, is Major Tidman," said the old fellow coolly. "I guess I know that much. Can't we go a stretch along the lower part of the town?" "If there's any row to come off," said the Major, keeping a wary eye on the young man. "I prefer it to take place here. On guard sir--on guard." Clarence shrugged his shoulders and produced a cigarette. "Oh that's all right," said he striking a match. "I guess my old aunt's been at you. I'm not going in for any row--not me." "Just as well for you," said the Major sharply, "how dare you threaten me, you--you--" "Now I ask you," said Clarence, "if I have threatened you? Go slow. I guess the old girl's been piling on the agony. She's got old Forge to fight her battles. When I make trouble," added Clarence musingly, "it will be for a pretty girl like Olivia." "You can have your desire for a row by telling that to young Ainsleigh." "Huh," said Burgh with contempt, "I guess I'd lay him out pretty smart. I tell you, Major, I'm dead gone on that girl: but she treats me like a lump of mud." "And quite right too," said Tidman coolly, "you aren't worthy of her. Now Ainsleigh is." Clarence pitched away his cigarette with an irritable gesture. "Don't get me riz," said he darkly, "or I'll make the hair fly with Ainsleigh." "Pooh. He's quite able to look after himself." "Can he shoot?" demanded the buccaneer. "Yes. And use his fists, and fence, and lay you out properly. Confound you, sir, don't you think I've travelled also. I've been in the Naked Lands in my time, and have seen your sort growing on the banana plants. You're the sort to get lynched." "Oh, tie it up," said Burgh with sudden anger, for these remarks were not to his mind. "I want to tell you about the fan." "Why do you want to talk of that?" asked Tidman with suspicion, "I don't care a straw for the fan." "Oh, I reckon you do, Major. But you're well out of it. If you'd kept that fan there would have been trouble--yes, you may look, but if you'd held on to that article you'd have been a corpse by now." Tidman sneered, not at all terrified by these vague threats. "What do you mean by this drivel?" "Let's come to anchor here," said Clarence pulling up beside a seat in a secluded part, near the old town beach. "I'll spin the yarn." "About the fan," said the Major sitting promptly. "I confess I am curious to know how it came to England again, after Forge took it again to the Far East. Didn't he give it to Lo-Keong?" "So he says," said Clarence with a side-long look at his companion. "I don't know myself. All I know is, that I got it from a pirate." "From a pirate?" "That's so. I was in Chinese waters a year or so ago, and I reckon pirates swarm in those parts--" Tidman shivered. "Yes," he admitted, "I had an adventure myself in Canton with a pirate of sorts." "Old Forge told me something about it," said Clarence lighting a fresh cigarette, "but my yarn's different. I was out with some of the boys in Chinese water, and a pirate tried to board us. We were down Borneo way, looking out for a ruby mine said to be in those parts. My pals--there were two of them, and myself engineering the job--hired a boat and cut across to Borneo. The pirates tried to slit our throats and our Chinese crew tried to help them. But we used our Winchesters and six shooters freely, and shot a heap. The pirates cleared off and we brought our barky into port safe enough." "But about the fan?" "I'm coming to that. The Boss pirate was shot by me--a big six foot Northern Chinee, got up, to kill, like a tin god. He had this jade fan, and directed operations with it. When his pals cleared I found him as dead as a coffin and nailed the fan. It was pretty enough, but didn't appeal to me much. I clapped it away in my box, and when I reached England I offered it to Aunt Lavinia. She wants me to marry Miss Rayner, and said I should offer it to her, and cut out that aristocratic Ainsleigh chap. Olivia--ripping name, ain't it--well, she didn't catch on, so I thought I'd gain the goodwill of old Miss Wharf, and passed it along to her." The Major listened in silence to this story, which seemed reasonable enough. "Strange it should have come back to England, and to a small place like this, where Forge had it," he mused. "A coincidence I suppose. By the way did you see the advertisement?" he asked. "You bet I did, and it made me sick to think I'd parted with the fan. Leastways, it made me sick till I saw Hwei!" "You mean Tung-yu." "No, I don't. I mean the Chinee as calls himself Hwei, who put that advertisement in every newspaper in London, and the United Kingdom." "What, in everyone?" said the Major, "must have cost----" "A heap you bet. Major. Well I struck Hwei--" "That's the name of a river, man." "Maybe: but it's what this celestial calls himself. I struck him near the Mansion House, and knew him of old in Pekin I reckon, where we chin-chined over some contraband biznai. I spoke to him in Chinese--I know enough to get along on--and he told me he had come to this country about Lo-Keong's fan. I never said I'd got it, though by that time I'd seen the advertisement. I know Chinamen too well, to give myself away in that fashion. I pumped him, and learned that Hwei intended to scrag the chap who held the fan, so I concluded to lie low." "But he offered wealth to whomsoever gave it up." "Maybe. I don't know exactly how the thing figures out. I guess Hwei does the killing, and Tung-yu the rewarding. But you can take it from me, Major, that unless Miss Wharf gets rid of that fan she'll have her throat cut. So I guess, you must be glad you didn't handle the biznai," and Clarence puffed a serene cloud of smoke. "It's more of a mystery than ever," said the Major. And so it was. CHAPTER VII The Warning The idea that the end of the year would see him ruined and homeless was terrible to Rupert. Even if his home had been an ordinary house, he would have been anxious; but when he thought of the venerable mansion, of the few acres remaining, of the once vast Ainsleigh estates, of the ruins of the Abbey which he loved, his heart was wrung with anguish. How could he let these things depart from him, for ever? Yet he saw no way out of the matter, although he had frequent consultations with his lawyers. One day, shortly before the ball at the Bristol, he returned from town with a melancholy face. Old Petley ventured to follow his young master into the library, and found him with his face covered with his hands, in deep despair. "Don't take on so. Master Rupert," said the old butler, gently, "things have not yet come to the worst." "They are about as bad as they can be, John," replied Ainsleigh. "I have seen Mr. Thorp. It will take thirty thousand pounds to put matters right. And where am I to get it? Oh," the young man started up and walked to and fro, "why didn't I go into the law, or take to some profession where I might make money? Forge was my guardian, he should have seen to it." "Master Rupert," said the old butler, "do you think that gentleman is your friend?" "What makes you think he isn't, John?" Petley pinched his chin between a shaky finger and thumb. "He don't seem like a friend," said he in his quavering voice. "He didn't tell you or me. Master Rupert, how bad things were. When you was at college he should have told you, and then you might have learned some way of getting money." "My father trusted him, John. He was appointed my guardian by the will my father made before he left for China." "And Dr. Forge went with the master to China," said the old man, "how did the master die?" "Of dysentery, so Dr. Forge says." "And others say he was murdered." "Who says so, John?" "Well sir, that Mandarin gentleman sent your father's papers and luggage back here when your mother was alive. A Chinaman brought the things. He hinted that all was not right, and afterwards the mistress died. She believed your father was murdered." Rupert looked pensive. He had heard something of this, but the story had been so vague, and was so vague as John told it, that he did not believe in it much. "Does Dr. Forge know the truth?" he asked. "He ought to, sir. Dr. Forge came from China with a report of this gold mine up in Kan-su, and your father was all on fire to go there and make money. The mistress implored him not to go but he would. He went with Dr. Forge, and never returned. The doctor, I know, says that the master died of dysentery, when the doctor himself was at Pekin. But I never liked that Forge," cried the old servant vehemently, "and I believe there's something black about the business." "But why should Forge be an enemy of my father's?" "Ah sir," Petley shook his old head, "I can't rightly say. Those two were at college together and fast friends; but I never liked Forge. No, sir, not if I was killed for it would I ever like that gentleman, though it's not for a person in my position to speak so. I asked the doctor again and again to let me know how bad things were, when you were at school, Master Rupert, but he told me to mind my own business. As if it wasn't my business to see after the family I'd been bred up in, since fifteen years of age." "I'll have a talk with Dr. Forge," said Rupert after a pause, "if there is any question of my father having been murdered, I'll see if he knows," he turned and looked on the old man quickly. "You don't suppose John that if there was a murder, he--" "No! no!" cried Petley hurriedly, "I don't say he had to do with it. But that Mandarin--" "Lo-Keong. Why Forge hates him." "So he says. But this Mandarin, as I've heard from the Major, is high in favour with the Chinaman's court. If the doctor was his enemy, he could not go so often to China as he does. And since your father's death fifteen years ago, he's been back several times." "Well I'll speak to him, John." "And about the money, sir?" Rupert sat down again. "I don't know what to do," he groaned. "I can manage to stave off many of the creditors, but if Miss Wharf forecloses the mortgage at Christmas everyone will come down with a rush and I'll have to give up Royabay to the creditors." "Never--never--that will never be," said John fiercely, "why the place has been under the Ainsleighs for over three hundred years." "I don't think that matters to the creditors," said Rupert wincing, "if I could only raise this thirty-thousand and get the land clear I would be able to live fairly well. There wouldn't be much; still I could keep the Abbey and we could live quietly." "We sir?" asked the old man raising his head. Rupert flushed, seeing he had made a slip. He did not want to tell the old man that he was married, as he was fearful lest the news should come to Miss Wharf's ears and render his wife's position with that lady unbearable. "I might get married you know," he said in an evasive way. "Lord, sir," cried Petley in terror, "whatever you do, don't cumber yourself with a wife, till you put things straight." "Heaven only knows how I am to put them straight," sighed Rupert. "I say, John, send me in some tea. I'm quite weary. Thorp is coming to see me next week and we'll have a talk." "With Dr. Forge I hope," said old John, as he withdrew. Ainsleigh frowned, when the door closed. Petley certainly seemed possessed by the idea that Forge was an enemy of the Ainsleighs, yet Rupert could think of no reason why he should be. He had been an excellent guardian to the boy, and if he had not told him the full extent of the ruin till it was too late to prevent it, he might have done so out of pity, so that the lad's young years might be unclouded. "Still it would have been better had he been less tender of my feelings and more considerate for my position," thought Rupert as he paced the long room. While he was sadly looking out of the window and thinking of the wrench it would be to leave the old place, he saw a tall woman walking up the avenue. The eyes of love are keen, and Rupert with a thrill of joy recognised the stately gait of Olivia. With an ejaculation of delight, he ran out, nearly upsetting Mrs. Petley who was coming into the Library with a dainty tea. Disregarding her exclamation of astonishment, Rupert sprang out of the door and down the steps. He met Olivia half way near the ruins of the Abbey. "My dearest," he said stretching out both hands, "how good of you to come!" Olivia, who looked pale, allowed him to take her hands passively. "I want to speak to you," she said quickly, "come into the Abbey," and she drew him towards the ruins. "No! No," said her husband, "enter your own house and have a cup of tea. It is just ready and will do you good." "Not just now, Rupert," she replied, laying a detaining hand on his arm. "I can wait only for a quarter of an hour. I must get back." Rupert grumbled at the short time, but, resolved to make the most of it, he walked with her into the cloisters. These were small but the ruins were very beautiful. Rows of delicately carved pillars surrounded a grassy sward. At the far end were the ruins of the church stretching into the pines. The roofless fane looked venerable even in the bright sunshine. The walls were overgrown with ivy, and some of the images over the door, still remained, though much defaced by Time. The windows were without the painted glass which had once filled them, but were rich with elaborate stone work. This was especially fine in the round window over the altar. As in the cloisters, the body of the church was overgrown with grass and some of the pillars had fallen. The lovers did not venture into the ruined church itself but walked round the pavement of the cloisters under the arches. Doubtless in days of old, many a venerable father walked on that paved way. But the monks were gone, the shrine was in ruins, and these lovers of a younger generation paced the quiet cloisters talking of love. "My darling," said the young husband fondly, "how pale you are. I hope nothing is wrong." "My aunt is ill. Oh it's nothing--only a feverish cold. She hopes to be well enough to attend the ball to-morrow night." "I did not hear of it," said Rupert, "though Tidman generally tells me the news. I have been in London for the last few days." "So I see," said Olivia, and glanced at her fair stalwart husband in his frock coat and smart Bond street kit, "how well you look." Rupert appreciated the compliment and taking her hands kissed both several times. Olivia bent forward and pressed a kiss on his smooth hair. Then she withdrew her hands. "We must talk sense," she said severely. "Oh," said Rupert making a wry face, "not about your aunt?" "Yes. I can't understand her. She has shut herself up in her room and refuses to see me. She will admit no one but Miss Pewsey." Ainsleigh shrugged his shoulders. "What does it matter," he said, "you know Miss Wharf never liked you. You are much too handsome, my own. And that is the reason also, for Miss Pewsey's dislike." "Oh, Miss Pewsey is more amiable," said Olivia, "indeed I never knew her to be so amiable. She is always chatting to me at such times as she can be spared from my aunt's room." "Well, what is worrying you?" "This exclusion from Aunt Sophia's room," said Olivia with tears of vexation in her dark eyes. "I am her only relative--or at all events I am her nearest. It seems hard that she should exclude me, and admit Miss Pewsey who is only a paid companion." "I don't think it matters a bit," said Rupert, "hasn't your aunt seen anyone lately?" "No,--yes, by the way. She has seen her lawyer several times." "I expect she is altering her will." Olivia laughed. "She threatens to do so in favour of Miss Pewsey, unless by the end of the month I give you up, and engage myself either to Mr. Walker or to Mr. Burgh." Rupert grew very angry. "What a detestable woman," he exclaimed. "I beg your pardon, dear, I forgot she's your aunt. But what right has she to order you about like this? You are of age." "And I am married, though she doesn't know it. But I'll tell you the real reason, I am vexed I can't see my aunt. Can't we sit down?" "Over there," said Ainsleigh, pointing to a secluded seat. It was placed at the far end of the cloisters under a large oak. There were four oaks here, or to be more correct, three oaks and the stump of one. "That was destroyed by lightning when I was born," said Rupert, seeing Olivia's eyes fixed on this. "Mrs. Petley saw in it an omen that I would be unlucky. But am I?" and he fell to kissing his wife's hands again. "Really, Rupert, you must be more sensible," she said, in pretended vexation. "What a pretty tree that copper-beech is." "Yes! But do you see the blackened square?" "It is not so very black," said Mrs. Ainsleigh, pausing to dig the point of her umbrella into the ground, "there's hardly any grass on it, and the earth is dark and hard. Curious it should be so, seeing the grass is thick and green all round, I suppose this is where Abbot Raoul was burnt." "Yes. I've told you the story and shown you the spot many times," said Rupert, slipping his arm round her waist. "Dearest," she whispered, "I was too much in love, to hear what you said on that point. And remember, all my visits to the Abbey have been secret ones. My aunt would be furious did she know that I had been here, and I often wonder that Pewsey, who is always watching me, has not followed me here." "If she does I'll duck her in the pond for a witch," said Rupert, and drew his wife to the seat under the oak, "well, go on." "About my aunt. Oh, it's what Major Tidman told me. He's been trying to see Aunt Sophia also. Have you heard what Mr. Burgh told the Major about that horrid fan?" "No. You forget, I have just returned from town. What is it?" Olivia related to Rupert the story which Clarence had told the Major. "So you see," she ended, "this man Hwei wants to kill any one who has the fan, and Tung-yu desires to reward the person who brings it back." "It seems contradictory," said Ainsleigh thoughtfully, "and if Hwei put in the advertisement it is strange that Tung-yu should have received me in the Joss-house mentioned in the paper. Well?" "Well," said Olivia rather vexed, "can't you see. I want my aunt to know that she is in danger and get rid of that horrid fan." "Pooh," said her husband laughing, "there's no danger. Hwei can't kill an old lady like that for the sake of a fan she would probably sell for five shillings." "She wouldn't," said Olivia with conviction. "Aunt Sophia has taken quite a fancy to that fan. But she ought to be told how dangerous it is, Rupert." "Or how lucky," said Ainsleigh, "let her sell the fan to Tung-yu for five thousand pounds and then she can let Hwei kill Tung-yu." "But would he do so." "I can't say. On the face of it, it looks as though these two were working against one another, seeing they propose to reward the owner of the fan in such different ways. Yet Hwei, according to Burgh, put the advertisement in and Tung-yu received me. I don't understand." "Well, don't you think I should tell the whole story to my aunt?" "Yes. Go in and see her." "Miss Pewsey won't let me, and my aunt refuses to admit me. I sent in a note the other day saying that I wished to speak very particularly, and she sent out another note to say that she would not see anyone till she was well. The note was kind enough in Aunt Sophia's cold way, but you see----" "Yes! Yes! Well then let Tidman see her." "Rupert, how annoying you are. She won't see anyone but Miss----" "Miss Pewsey. Well then, tell her the story, and she can repeat it to your aunt. Though, by the way," added Ainsleigh, "Burgh may have told Miss Pewsey about it already." "Yes," said Olivia, her face brightening, and rising to go away, "but I'll ask Miss Pewsey to tell Aunt Sophia herself." As they walked towards the ruined entrance, Mrs. Petley's bulky form appeared in the archway. She threw up her hands. "Sakes alive, Master Rupert, come off Abbot Raoul's burning-place." Ainsleigh, who was standing on the square of blackened ground, obeyed at once, and drew Olivia away also. "I forgot," he murmured. "Forgot what?" asked Olivia. "Why miss," said the old housekeeper, "don't you know it's said that if an Ainsleigh stands there, some trouble will befall him before the year's end, You're not an Ainsleigh miss, but Master Rupert--well there--oh sir, how can you be so foolish. The tea's ready sir," and Mrs. Petley, with this prosaic ending trotted away. "She doesn't know that you are an Ainsleigh," said Rupert kissing his wife, "pah. Don't think of that foolish superstition. Come to--" "No, Rupert," said Olivia, planting herself firmly against the wall, "you know I said a quarter of an hour. It's half an hour we have been talking. I must get back." The young husband urged, implored, scolded, cajoled, but all to no effect. Olivia made up her mind to go, and go she did, Rupert escorting her to the gates. "You are very unkind," he said. "I am very sensible," she replied, "I don't want to disturb my new relations with Miss Pewsey. She has such power over my aunt that it is necessary I should keep on good terms with her. Now, Rupert, you must not come any further." "Just along the road." "Certainly not. All the gossips of Marport would talk. Good-bye. I won't be kissed again. Someone may be looking." Ainsleigh muttered a blessing on anyone who might be about, and shook hands with his wife just as though they were strangers. Then he remained at the gate till she turned the corner. There, she looked back and Rupert threw her a kiss. Olivia shook a furious sunshade at him for the indiscretion. "The silly boy," she said to herself as she went along, "if anyone saw him, there would be a fine story all over Marport." CHAPTER VIII The Beginning of the Ball So this was the position of affairs immediately before the ball given by the Glorious Golfers at the Bristol Hotel. Miss Wharf possessed the fan, and two Chinamen were searching for it. Hwei intended to secure it by murder, and Tung-yu by the milder means of honourable purchase: but why the two, with such contradictory intentions, should work in unison, as appeared from the advertisement, Rupert could not understand. However, he had so much trouble himself that he dismissed the matter from his mind. There was little chance of his benefiting by money from the one Chinaman, or of being murdered by the other. And he presumed that Olivia would instruct Miss Pewsey to tell Miss Wharf about the fan, even if she did not see her personally. And while Miss Wharf was ill and safe in her house, Hwei could not get at her in any way. Moreover, as Burgh in his interview with Hwei near the Mansion House, had held his tongue, the man would not know where the fan was. The ball was the best of the Marport season, as the Glorious Golfers were a body of young men with plenty of money and a great love of amusement. The vast apartments of the Bristol were thrown open, and decked with flowers; an Irish Band,--The Paddies,--was engaged from London, and many people came down from the great city to be present. It was a perfect night when the ball was held, and the terrace on the first floor of the hotel, or to speak more properly the balcony, was thronged with people. It looked very pretty, as it was filled with tropical ferns and plants and trees, illuminated with Chinese lanterns and made comfortable with numerous arm chairs, and plenty of small marble-topped tables. Between the dances, people finding the rooms too warm, came out to walk in the night air. There was no moon, but the night was starry and warm, and a soft luminous light was reflected on sea and land. Standing under the great fern-trees and amidst the fairy lights, the guests could survey with pleasure the vast waste of water stretching towards the clear horizon, and see the long pier glittering with innumerable lights. Needless to say, the terrace was much frequented by amorous couples. Within, the ball-room, gay with flowers and draperies, with a waxed floor and many electric light in coloured globes, looked very pretty. The band was hidden behind a lofty floral screen, and played the latest seductive waltzes, interspersed with inspiriting barn-dances and quaint cake-walks. The women were lovely, and the dresses perfect, so the young men enjoyed themselves not a little. Rupert was present, looking handsome in his evening dress, but rather flushed and anxious. He was not sure if Miss Wharf would come, in which case Olivia would not be present. And, if the old maid did recover sufficiently to make her appearance, she would perhaps refuse to allow him to dance with the girl. However Miss Wharf did appear though at a somewhat late hour. She was gowned in pale blue and looked very handsome, if somewhat stout. Olivia's dark beauty revealed itself in a primrose-hued dress, and Miss Pewsey looked more like a witch than ever in a black frock glittering with jet. This was the gift of Miss Wharf, as poor Miss Pewsey would never have been able to indulge in such extravagance. At the back and in attendance on the Ivy Lodge party, were Clarence Burgh and Dr. Forge. The buccaneer looked picturesque and dashing as usual and was dressed very quietly for one of his flamboyant tastes, though he showed to disadvantage beside the perfection of Rupert's garb. Forge wore a suit which might have been made for his grandfather, and which fitted his lank form ill. The doctor looked less his cool self, than was usually the case. His parchment face was flushed and his melancholy eyes glittered as they roved round the brilliant room. Rupert wondered if he was looking for Tung-yu, and glanced round the room himself to see if the Chinaman had arrived in Chris Walker's company. But he could not perceive him. Putting his fortune to the test, and having come to no open rupture with the lady, Rupert boldly walked up to Miss Wharf and offered his hand. She gave him rather a peculiar look and coloured a little. But to his secret satisfaction she received him very kindly. Olivia took her husband's greeting with a quiet smile, rather cold, as she knew well Miss Pewsey was watching her face. As to that lady, she hovered round the group like an ugly old fairy, about to weave the spell. "And where is the Major?" asked Miss Pewsey in her emphatic way, "surely he is present on this occasion." "I am sorry to say that the Major is laid up with a bad cold," said Rupert. "I have just been to see him. He is not coming." "A cold spoils his beauty," tittered Miss Pewsey, "dear me, how very vain that man is." "A cold has not spoilt Miss Wharf's beauty at all events," said Ainsleigh, seeing his way to a compliment. "I never saw you look so well," he added with a bow. "Thanks to Lavinia's nursing," laughed the lady. "Olivia can you keep still while that delicious music is playing. I'm sure Mr. Burgh--" "I think Miss Rayner is engaged to me," put in Rupert promptly. Miss Wharf tapped him on the shoulder with the very fan, about which there had been so much talk. "No I can't spare you," she said amiably. "I want to chat with you. Olivia?" The girl exchanged a look with her husband and saw that his eyes were fastened on the fan. Resolved to give him a chance of talking to her aunt about it, she moved away on the arm of the buccaneer to join in the whirling throng. Forge offered his arm to Miss Pewsey, not to dance, but to escort her on to the terrace, and so it came about that aunt Sophia and Rupert were left alone in a quiet corner of the room. Miss Wharf cast a side glance at the young man and seeing how handsome and gay he was, she heaved a sigh. Perhaps she was thinking of his father whom she had loved dearly, but if so, the emotion was only momentary, for she compressed her lips and drew herself up stiffly. "Mr. Ainsleigh," she said, "you never come to see me now. How is that?" "I thought you did not wish to see me," said Rupert frankly. "Oh yes I do. Your father was an old friend of mine, and for his sake I wish to be kind to you." Rupert saw that she was unaware that he had met Olivia secretly, and had heard the story of the early romance. It was not wise, he thought, to bring up the subject, so he met her on her own ground. "You can be very kind to me if you wish," he said casting a significant glance on Olivia who floated past with Burgh. Miss Wharf followed his gaze and frowned, shaking her head. "No," she said severely, "you must give up the idea of marrying Olivia." "I can't do that," replied Rupert, thinking of his secret marriage, "and I don't see why you should refuse to let me love her." "I can't prevent that," snapped Miss Wharf, "love her as much as you choose, but as another man's wife," and again she looked oddly at Rupert, who wondered what she meant. "What an immoral remark," he said, "perhaps you will explain." "Mr. Ainsliegh I will be frank with you," said the lady calmly, "you have no money, and are liable to lose Royabay. I hold a mortgage it is true and by the end of the year I can foreclose; but that, I shall not do if you give up Olivia. If I foreclose, you know well enough that your other creditors will come down on you, and you will lose all. I hold the scales," added she significantly. "I see that well enough Miss Wharf, but many things may happen before the end of the year." "You mean that you will get the money to pay me and others?" "I might even mean that," answered Rupert coolly, "and if I am a bad match, I don't think Mr. Burgh is a better. I have at least a position and a clean name." "What do you know about Clarence Burgh?" she asked quickly. "Nothing, save that he is an adventurer, Miss Wharf. He comes from nowhere, and swaggers about Marport as if it belonged to him. He has no recognised position and he is not a gentleman." "Oh but he is, and I want him to marry Olivia." "And thus you would condemn Olivia to misery. She loves me--" "A girl's love," said Miss Wharf coolly, "she'll soon get over that. Mr. Burgh is Lavinia's nephew, and I have promised Lavinia that Olivia shall be his wife." "Why in heaven's name?" asked Rupert angrily, "he has no money." "Oh yes he has, and may have a chance of getting more. Lavinia has been a good friend to me for years and years--all my life in fact, Mr. Ainsleigh. I owe much to her, and I intend to repay her. Her heart is set on this match and Olivia must marry Clarence." "Olivia shall not." "Olivia shall. I set my will against yours Mr. Ainsleigh." "You'll find my will is stronger," said Rupert coolly. Miss Wharf gave a short laugh. "Try," she said curtly; then her hard eyes softened and her cold manner grew warmer. "Don't let us quarrel," she said gently. "I wish you well, and would give you anything save Olivia--" "Which is the only thing I want." "How rude of you to call Olivia a 'thing,'" said the woman lightly, "you may make up your mind that if you marry her, I shall leave my money to Miss Pewsey." "Do so. I don't want your money." "Five hundred a year is not enough," sneered Miss Wharf, "but I may have more. What do you say to five thousand--" "Oh," interrupted Rupert coolly, "so Olivia has told you about the fan--or perhaps Miss Pewsey." "It was Olivia. I believe Clarence Burgh told her. This fan," Miss Wharf unfurled the article, "means five thousand pounds--" "Or a cut throat," said Rupert quickly. "Pah! how foolish you are, as though such a thing could happen in England. Were we in China I admit that I should be afraid to keep this fan; but as it is I am perfectly safe. See here, Mr. Ainsleigh," she added bending towards him, "if you will give up Olivia I will give you this fan and you can get the money to pay off your creditors." "No," said Rupert at once. "I need thirty thousand, not five. And even if you were to give me the thirty thousand I need, I would not sell Olivia for that sum." "Look at the fan first," said Miss Wharf and gave it to him. Rupert's nerves thrilled as he took the dainty trifle in his hand. So much had been said about it, so much hung on it, of the meaning of which he was ignorant, that he could not look at it without feeling the drama it represented. Balzac's remark about killing a Mandarin in China to obtain a fortune, occurred to his mind. This fan dainty and fragile, might cost the life of such a Mandarin. It all depended into whose hands it fell. The fan was exactly as the advertisement described. On one side the pale green sticks were enamelled and smooth; on the other thin slivers of jade covered the wood, and were inscribed in quaint Chinese characters in gold. The handle was of gold, and therefrom hung a thick cord of yellow silk, with four beads and half a bead thereon. Three beads and the half one were of jade, but the remaining ball was of jasper. What these might mean Rupert could not understand, but apparently they were connected with the secret of the fan, whatever that might be. Certainly, whatever its significance, the secret dealt with the life of Lo-Keong, with the life of Dr. Forge, and with the life of Miss Wharf, seeing she now possessed the article. All the time Rupert furled and unfurled the fan, admiring its beauty, she kept her cold eyes on him. "Think," she whispered, "five thousand pounds may gain you a few months respite--you may be able to save the Abbey." Rupert shook his head. "If I lose Olivia I don't care about keeping Royabay. It can be sold up and I'll go abroad to the Colonies to work for my living." "Without Olivia." "No. With Olivia. Nothing will buy her from me." Miss Wharf finding all her arts fail, snatched the fan from him, and bit her lip. Her eyes flashed, and she seemed on the point of making some remark, but refrained. "Very good, Mr. Ainsleigh," said she. "I'll see what I can do with Olivia. You have ruined her." "What do you mean by that, Miss Wharf." "You'll find out my friend," she replied clenching the fan fiercely. "Oh, I am not so blind, or so ignorant as you think me." Ainsleigh turned crimson. He wondered if by any chance she had heard of the marriage, and it was on the tip of his tongue to put a leading question to Miss Wharf, when Chris Walker came up. He was not alone. With him was a small Chinaman with the impassive face of the Celestial. Tung-yu--as Rupert guessed he was--wore a gorgeous yellow gown, with a kind of blue silk blouse over it. His feet were encased in thick Chinese shoes wonderfully embroidered and his pig-tail was down. Several ladies cast avaricious looks at these gorgeous vestments, and especially at the blouse, which was heavy with dragons woven in gold thread. In his thin yellow hand with long finger-nails, Tung-yu held a small ivory fan, and he stood impassively before Miss Wharf, not even casting a look at the fan in her hand, which he was prepared to buy at such a large price. "This is Mr. Tung-yu," said Chris boyishly. "He wants to meet you, Miss Wharf. He admires English ladies." "I fear I can't speak his language, Chris." "He can speak ours to perfection," said Walker. Tung-yu bowed politely and spoke in admirably chosen English. "I was at Cambridge," he said calmly, "and I know of your Western culture. If you will permit me, madam." He took a seat beside Miss Wharf. Chris, seeing his friend well established looked around. "Where is Miss Rayner?" he asked. "Oh there she is--the dance is over." And so it was. The dancers were streaming out on to the balcony and the room was almost empty. Burgh, with Olivia on his arm, came towards Miss Wharf, and Chris hurried forward to ask Miss Rayner for a dance. But quick as he was, Rupert was quicker. He had seen his wife dance with one admirer, and was not going to let her dance with another. "Miss Rayner is engaged to me," he said, and offered his arm with a defiant look at Burgh, to whom he had not been introduced. Burgh showed no disposition to let Olivia go, and scowled. But his eye fell on the Chinaman seated by Miss Wharf, and he suddenly moved away. It seemed to Rupert that the buccaneer was afraid. Chris remained to protest, but Ainsleigh ended the matter by abruptly taking Olivia out of the room. Miss Wharf frowned when she saw them depart and opened her mouth, as though to call Olivia back. But on second thoughts she contented herself with another frown and then turned to speak to Tung-yu. "I have heard of you," she said. "From my friend, Mr. Walker," said the polite Chinaman, "Oh yes, and from someone else, through a third party. I heard of your advertisement----" "What advertisement?" asked Tung-yu. "About this fan," and Miss Wharf waved it under Tung-yu's narrow eyes, which did not change their expression of indifference. "I do not understand, Madam!" The lady looked astonished. "Why. Didn't you advertise for the fan?" Tung-yu permitted himself to smile. "Who told you I did?" he asked. "Mr. Ainsleigh, who left just now, told a friend of mine, who told me," said Miss Wharf. "I understood you wished to possess this fan." "No," said Tung-yu indifferently, "the advertisement was placed in the paper, by a compatriot of mine called Hwei. He asked me to see anyone who called about it, as he was engaged. I saw Mr. Ainsleigh and told him what he told your friend. You must apply to Hwei." "And have my life taken," said Miss Wharf with a shudder. This time the Chinaman was not able to suppress a start. "I do not quite understand, Madam?" he reflected. "Oh, yes, you do, Mr. Tung-yu. Hwei would murder me to get this fan. I prefer to sell it to you for five thousand pounds." The Chinaman's face became impassive again, though his eyes looked surprised. "I assure you, this is quite wrong. Madam. My friend Hwei wants the fan, because it belongs to a Mandarin who received it as a gift from his dead wife. So dearly does this Mandarin prize it, that he is willing to buy it at any price." "Even five thousand pounds?" "I believe so. This Mandarin is rich." He turned his narrow eyes again on the lady. "Did the person who said that Hwei would go as far as crime, tell you the Mandarin's name?" "No. Who is the Mandarin?" "I fear I cannot tell you madam. Hwei did not tell me. If you like I will bring him to you." Miss Wharf hesitated. Her avarice was aroused by the hope of getting rid of a trifle for five thousand pounds but she did not wish to risk herself alone with a blood-thirsty celestial. "If you will come also," she said, hesitating. Tung-yu reflected. "Madam, I will be plain with you," he said gravely, "as I am here, I can act on behalf of my friend Hwei--but to-morrow." Miss Wharf tendered the fan. "Why not take it to-night and give me a cheque," she said quickly. "To-morrow," replied the Chinaman, rising and bowing politely, "I will call on you, if you will permit me. Mr. Walker will show me the way. I will then arrange to buy the fan at a price to which you will not object. Meanwhile--" he bowed again and gravely departed. Miss Wharf, rather annoyed and surprised by this behaviour, looked round for Miss Pewsey, to whom she was accustomed to tell everything. The little woman appeared at that moment pushing her way through the crowd in a state of excitement. "Oh, Sophia!" she said, throwing herself down. "Oh, Sophia." "What's the matter?" asked Miss Wharf coldly. "I might ask you," said Miss Pewsey, parrying the question, "you look so upset, my Sophia." "It is with pleasure then," said the old maid, dryly, "I have arranged to sell this fan to-morrow for five thousand pounds." "Oh," Miss Pewsey clasped her hand, "What joy; you will be able to add to your income. But, Sophia, I really can't keep it any longer. That Major Tidman----" "Well. What about him?" "Mr. Ainsleigh said he had a cold and was confined to his room. I went up to see, as I don't trust that Major a bit. He's so wicked. I went to his room, and peeped in. Sophia," added Miss Pewsey in a tragic manner. "He is not there--the room is empty!" CHAPTER IX The End of the Ball Miss Wharf looked at her excited little friend with an indulgent smile. "Really I don't see why you should trouble," she said with a smile. "Let the Major do what he likes." "He's up to some mischief," persisted the old maid, "and I'd like to find out what it is. He is supposed to be keeping his room, because of a cold, and I find he is not in. People with colds," added the lady, impressively, "do not go into the night air." "How do you know Major Tidman has?" "Because he would be at the ball, were he in the hotel. I shall ask Clarence to see what he is doing." "Why?" asked Miss Wharf, puzzled. "Because--oh, just because," replied Miss Pewsey, tossing her head in a sharp way, like the Red Queen in Alice's Adventures. "But the fan, dearest Sophia?--Can't I take charge of it?" Miss Wharf grasped the fan tighter. "No, certainly not. It is worth five thousand pounds." "And perhaps more," said Miss Pewsey. "Remember, dearest Sophia, that is the sum offered, but you might ask more. It is very important that this Mandarin should get the fan back. Dr. Forge told me." "Why is it important?" "Theophilus didn't tell me that, but he said that this Mandarin--I quite forget his queer name--would give even more than five thousand to get it back." "His emissary didn't seem very anxious to buy." "Oh, that is craft," rejoined Miss Pewsey, tossing her head. "The Chinese are very double, Theophilus says." "I don't think so, Lavinia. I would have sold this fan for a few pounds had I not known such a large sum was offered. Tung-yu is not a good business man, or else the Mandarin must be a millionaire." "He is--he is. I wish you would let me conduct the business, and _do_ let me take the fan?" "No, I shall keep it." "Sophia," said Miss Pewsey, solemnly, "that is dangerous. Rupert Ainsleigh hates you and needs money; he might kill you to get that fan, and sell it for five----" "Nonsense. I cannot be murdered in a house full of people like this. I know another Chinaman hints at murder--you told me so----" "Olivia told me to tell you," put in the little woman, quickly. "Well, Hwei isn't here, and I'll sell the fan to Tung-yu to-morrow." Miss Pewsey would have said more, but at this moment Dr. Forge approached, with a crooked elbow and a dreary smile. "Allow me to take you into supper, Miss Wharf." "Certainly," she rose and took the arm. "I am really hungry. Lavinia?" "I shall look for Clarence. I must find out what has become of Major Tidman," and the old maid hurried away while the doctor escorted Miss Wharf to the supper-room. Clarence was not drinking at the buffet, though his aunt went there to find him as the most likely place. Nor was he in the ball-room, although a new dance had begun. She could not see him in the card-room, but finally ran him to earth on the terrace, where he was leaning against a tree-fern with folded arms and with his wicked black eyes fixed on a couple some distance away. Miss Pewsey followed his gaze and her eyes also flashed, for she beheld Rupert talking with Olivia. Both their heads were bent, and they conversed earnestly. The little woman hated Olivia and detested Rupert, so the sight was gall and worm-wood to her. "Why don't you ask her to dance?" she demanded, touching her nephew's arm. "Because there would only be a row," he rejoined sullenly. "I feel inclined to spoil that chap's looks I can tell you." "Do you really love the girl, so?" "Yes I do. I'd give anything to marry her, and I shall too." "There's not the slightest chance. Ainsleigh will not surrender her I can tell you." "Then why did you make me waste that fan." "You didn't waste it on her," said Miss Pewsey coldly, "she refused to take it like a fool, and now Sophia has it, there is no chance of getting it back. Had I known the fan was of such value, you wouldn't have caught me advising you to part with it. If you knew what this Hwei said, why didn't you tell me the fan was valuable." "I did not see Hwei until I had parted with the fan," said Clarence crossly, "and we can do nothing now." "You are not so bold as Major Tidman," she whispered. "What's that?" asked the buccaneer sharply. "He's not in his room," rejoined Miss Pewsey in a low voice, "he pretends illness, to carry out his plan to get the fan." "How do you know that?" "Because Tung-yu is in the hotel. The Major will try and get the fan to sell it to him." "In that case he would have come to the ball and have seen Miss Wharf to get it from her." "No. He has some other plan. What it is I don't know. But I wish you would look round for him, Clarence, and watch him." "Bah! It's all stuff." Burgh turned to look at the sea and the pier and the luminous night. "I'm getting sick of this business," he went on discontentedly, "and but for the chance of gaining Olivia, I would bunk out on the long trail. There's a barky out there," he continued pointing to the right of the pier, "yonder--the one with the green light. I saw her anchor early in the afternoon--a kind of gentleman's yacht I fancy. She'd just do for me. I'd like to take a boat and pull out to her, and then get up steam for the South Seas. There's a clear path leads there, down channel," and he stared at the flickering green light which winked amongst many red ones. "You'll never get Olivia," said Miss Pewsey, in a sharp tense voice, "and you can go away as soon as you like. Meantime, look for Major Tidman and tell him I want him." Clarence lazily stretched himself, and moved off along the balcony. At the end there was a flight of shallow steps leading down to an iron gate which was open. Thence one could pass to the Esplanade and the beach, if so inclined. But the guests kept to the populous end of the balcony where the lights clustered. Near the stairs, there were hardly any lamps, and a screen of flowers curtained it off from the rest of the hotel. Clarence passed through this floral arch, and Miss Pewsey lost sight of him. Her eyes turned to the couple she hated, and she carelessly moved near them. No one noted her as the balcony was not so full, and she sat down behind a fern where she could hear without being seen by the two, she was spying on. Their voices were low, but hate sharpened Miss Pewsey's ears, and she listened intently. "My aunt is much more amiable to-night," Olivia was saying, "I suppose the chance of making five thousand pounds has appealed to her." "She gave me the chance of making it, provided I gave you up," said Rupert, "and she lost her temper with me because I declined." "Will you never be friends with her?" "I fear not, while Miss Pewsey is in the way," said Rupert. "Olivia, it is that woman who makes all the mischief." "I think it is," replied the girl with a weary smile, "but she seems to have a kind of hypnotic power over my aunt--" "What do you mean?" "Aunt Sophia has bad headaches and Miss Pewsey sometimes hypnotises her to send away the pain." "Miss Wharf is foolish to allow her to do such a thing. That little woman is no more to be trusted than her scamp of a nephew is." "Well it doesn't matter," said Olivia, feeling in her pocket. "I want to talk about ourselves. See Rupert you wanted a silk tie the other day. I have knitted you one--red and yellow." Rupert took the tie and admired it in the lamp light. He would have kissed Olivia's hand after a few words of warm thanks, but she prevented him. "Someone might see and tell Aunt Sophia," she said hurriedly, "I should have given it to you the other day when I called at the Abbey, but I forgot, so I decided to give it to you to-night. It's rather awkward your having it now. Give it to me again." "No! I'll put it in my overcoat in the cloak room," said Rupert, rising, "but I must take you back to Miss Wharf, or she will be angry." "I wish this deception was at an end and I could be with you altogether," said Olivia rising with a sigh. It was at this moment that Miss Pewsey chose to come forward. She was furious at the way in which the couple spoke of her, but long habit enabled her to smooth her face to a treacherous smile. "Oh dear Olivia," she said. "I have been looking for you everywhere." "Does my aunt want me?" asked the girl calmly. "No. She is in the supper-room with Mr. Forge. But Mr. Walker--" "I don't want him," said Miss Rayner quickly, and with a change of voice. "Yes--yes," said Rupert in a low voice. "Go with her, and dance with Walker; it will prevent Miss Wharf being cross." "Very well," rejoined Olivia quietly: then turned to Miss Pewsey who smiled like a grotesque image. "Let us go to the ball-room." "Won't Mr. Ainsleigh escort us?" asked the old maid, blandly. Rupert bowed, and smothering his feelings, which always revolted at the sight of the woman, he walked beside the two to the ball-room. Miss Pewsey took Olivia's arm and chattered effusively all the time. At the door they met Chris Walker, who hurried up at once and asked for a dance. Leaving the two ladies with him, Rupert went towards the cloak room. Here to his surprise he saw Major Tidman clothed in a heavy fur coat, talking to Tung-yu. Tidman looked white and uneasy, but the Chinaman still preserved his impassive face. Rupert took no notice but simply nodded to the Major as he passed, pulling out the yellow and red tie as he did so. Tidman changed colour, apparently not pleased at being found talking to Tung-yu, and laughed uneasily. "That's a bright piece of goods Ainsleigh." "It's a present," said Rupert thrusting the tie into the pocket of his over coat. "I should think it would match your friend's dress." "Hush," said Tidman quietly, "he speaks English. He will hear," then he added aloud. "Let me introduce you to Mr. Ainsleigh, Tung-yu." The Chinaman turned and looked impassive enough. But his eyes had an enquiring look in their black depths. "Tung-yu and I met in Canton, where we had an adventure," said the Major, with a titter. "About that famous fan?" asked Rupert smiling. Tung-yu started and looked quickly at Tidman, who was again pale. "I don't remember about the fan," said Tung-yu, "did our friend find it in Canton." "No! No I never did," said Tidman hurriedly,--"that is Forge found the fan--" "And gave it to Miss Wharf. Quite so," replied Tung-yu blandly. "I see her to-morrow about the matter," then he bowed to Rupert and moved away slowly. "I thought you had a bad cold," said Rupert to Tidman, who was looking after the Chinaman with a scared expression. "Yes--yes--but that is better now," said the Major hurriedly, "so Miss Wharf is here, and has the fan?" "Yes, she offered to give it to me if I surrendered Olivia." "Refuse--refuse," cried Tidman hurriedly: he approached his lips to Ainsleigh's ears. "There is death in the air to-night." "Tidman," cried Ainsleigh starting away and staring. "Yes--yes--say nothing. I wish you hadn't mentioned about my having the fan. Tung-yu never knew--but it can't be helped. Ainsleigh, is there another Chinaman here to-night?" "I have seen none. Do you expect Hwei? If so we had better warn Miss Wharf. She has the fan and--" "No! No--say nothing. Don't touch the accursed thing." "How do you know it is accursed?" "I knew in Canton, and in a very unpleasant way. But I'll tell you my adventure to-morrow--yes I will--if nothing happens to-night." Rupert stared still harder. "What can happen to-night man alive?" "Nothing--nothing," said the Major hurriedly. "I'll get back to my room--you needn't say you have seen me. I--" "Just the man I want," cried a bold free voice, and Burgh's slim hand fell on the Major's shoulder. "Miss Pewsey asks for you." "For me. Any more trouble?" "I guess not. She wants to fuss round about your cold. Heaping coals of fire's the English of it." "Let her leave me alone," said the Major petulantly. "I'm quite well. I am going back to my room," and with a nod to Rupert, he marched out. Burgh looked after him with a smile and a shrug: then he turned to Rupert who was moving towards the door. "Can I speak with you?" he asked with a frown. "Not here Mr. Burgh," cried Ainsleigh, "this is not the place for a quarrel." "And why not," cried the other, advancing with clenched fists, "I--" "Keep your distance," said Ainsleigh sharply starting back on his guard, "the attendant is looking on," and he pointed to the man behind the counter who attended to the hats and cloaks. Burgh tossed him a shilling, "Go and get a drink," he ordered. "Stop where you are," commanded Rupert, "or I'll report you." But the man, who was a dissipated-looking waiter pretended not to hear this last remark, and disappeared from behind the counter. The two men were alone, and Burgh spoke first. "I guess I'm going to lay you out," said he, "on account of--" "Stop," said Rupert, "mention no names." "I'll mention what I like and Olivia--" Ainsleigh let drive before he could finish the word and in a second Burgh was sprawling on the floor. He rose with an oath and slipped round his right hand. "You draw a revolver and I'll break your neck," panted Rupert, "you bully, what do you mean by--" Burgh drew his hand away--perhaps he was afraid a shot would bring in others to see the fray. But he dashed again at the young man. A short struggle ensued, which ended in Burgh being thrown again. Then Rupert, disinclined for a vulgar row, walked away. He stopped at the door to give his antagonist a bit of advice. "You touch me again," he said, "and I'll hand you over to the police after giving you a good thrashing. It's what a bully like you deserves. And if you dare to speak to Miss Rayner I'll make Marport too hot to hold you." When Rupert vanished, Burgh raised himself slowly and with an evil smile. "Perhaps the place will be too hot for you my fine gentleman," he said savagely, and began to think. Meanwhile Rupert went to the ball-room and saw that Olivia was dancing with Dr. Forge. Chris Walker told him that Miss Wharf had gone on to the balcony for the fresh air. Miss Pewsey was not to be seen or Rupert would have told her to look after her disreputable relative in the cloak-room. The young man thought he would go up to the Major's room and have a smoke, when he felt a light touch on his shoulder. There stood Tung-yu. "Excuse me sir," said the Chinaman in his excellent English, "I am your friend. Major Tidman and Dr. Forge are your enemies, and you have a third enemy in that young man Burgh." "But how do you know--" began Rupert. Tung-yu bent forward and whispered. "I know how your father died," he said softly and before Rupert could detain him, he vanished. But Ainsleigh waited but for a moment. The speech was so surprising, that he determined to learn more. At once he ran after the Chinaman but could not see him. In spite of his noticeable clothes, he was swallowed up in the crowd and Rupert plunged into the gay throng determined to find the man who could solve the mystery of Markham Ainsleigh's death. The night wore on and the fun became fast and furious. Towards twelve the guests began to depart, but many choice spirits declared they would keep the ball rolling till dawn. One of these was Chris Walker, who had imbibed more champagne than was good for him. While he talked excitedly Miss Pewsey came to him hastily. "Where is my dear Sophia?" she asked, "I can't find her, and with her delicate health it is time she was home in bed." "I have not seen her. Have you, Dr. Forge?" The lean doctor shook his head, "I have been in the card room for the last hour," he said, "and as Miss Wharf's doctor I assuredly say, she should go home, there's midnight," and as he spoke the strokes boomed from a tall clock in the hall. "Clarence, have you seen her?" asked Miss Pewsey of the buccaneer who had Olivia on his arm. "No! I've just been waltzing with Miss Rayner." "Then you Mr. Ainsleigh?" "I have been smoking on the balcony," said Rupert, who looked tired. "Oh, dear me," said Miss Pewsey wringing her hands, "I wonder if dear Sophia has gone to see Major Tidman. She is so kind-hearted and he is ill--at least he says he is. Did he tell you Clarence?" "I saw him only for a minute and he went back to his room I guess." "Then Sophia must have gone there," cried Miss Pewsey and hurried away. Olivia followed with Forge as she thought also, that her aunt ought to go home, and Clarence's attentions were becoming so embarrassing that she feared there would be trouble with Rupert. But soon, Miss Pewsey appeared again and said that Miss Wharf was not in the Major's room, nor was the Major there. Taking Olivia and Clarence and Forge, she went to search for the missing lady. Rupert lingered behind as he did not wish to come into contact with the buccaneer. The hunt proceeded for some time, and every room in the hotel was searched. But Miss Wharf could not be found. Finally everyone--for many of the guests were hunting by this time--, went out on the balcony. Miss Wharf was not there. "Oh, dear me," cried Miss Pewsey, "wherever can she be." The balcony was searched from end to end. Then one of the guests more venturesome, descended the steps. He gave a cry of horror. "Bring a light," he cried. Lights were brought and everyone rushed after them. Half way down the steps lay Miss Wharf--dead--strangled, and round her throat tightly bound was a yellow and red silk tie. CHAPTER X A Mysterious Case The murder of Miss Sophia Wharf at the Bristol Hotel ball, made a great sensation. She had been well-known in Marport, and her many friends were enormously excited that each and everyone of them had been acquainted with a person who had been--as one of them put it--done to death. Also the circumstances of the murder were most extraordinary. It seemed almost incredible that a popular lady should be murdered in so public a place; though many said, that the safety of the assassin lay in the very fact that he had chosen to commit his crime, a few yards away from a spot where many people were congregated. But who had killed Miss Wharf and why she was killed in so brutal a manner, no one could understand. When the local police heard of the assassination, an Inspector with two subordinates took possession of the hotel, and obtained from the manager a list of the guests present at the ball. As these amounted to something like two hundred, it seemed like looking for a needle in a haystack to search for the criminal amongst them. And many of them did not know Miss Wharf even by sight, so it was certain that the task of identifying the assassin would be one of enormous difficulty. And the question was asked on all hands. "What had taken the deceased lady down the little-frequented steps?" The fan was missing--Miss Pewsey noticed that, when she bent over the dead, but the story of the fan was not yet public property. According to custom the local police communicated with the Treasury, who placed the case in the hands of the Criminal Investigation Department, and thus it came about, that a plain clothes officer--in other words a detective--was sent down to Marport. This individual was called Rogers, and after paying a visit to the Superintendent of the Marport Police Office, he went to Ivy Lodge. Here, everything was gloomy and silent. The body of the unfortunate woman had been brought home, and was laid out for burial. Dr. Forge, who with others had been on the spot at the time of the discovery, examined the corpse, and asserted that the miserable woman must have been murdered just an hour, or half an hour previous. As midnight was chiming shortly before the discovery of the crime, it can be safely declared--and Dr. Forge did declare this--that Miss Wharf was strangled between eleven and twelve. When the corpse was found it was yet warm, Clarence haunted the Lodge and talked with his aunt, but Olivia kept to her own room. "Tung-yu did it of course," said Mr. Burgh decisively. "I reckon he came down to get that fan, and grudged giving so much cash for it. I surmise that he lured the old girl to those steps, and then slipped the silk string round her neck." "The silk tie," said Miss Pewsey whose eyes were very black and glittering, though red round the rims, from weeping. "How do you know it's a tie?" asked Clarence with a start. "I know," replied his aunt tightening her thin lips, "and I know to whom the tie belongs. But you say that Tung-yu?--" "Who else could have scragged the old girl aunt Lavinia. The fan's gone--leastways I didn't see it when we spotted the deader." Miss Pewsey nodded. "Yes, the fan is gone," she assented, "but if Tung-yu murdered dearest Sophia, he can easily be arrested." "Oh, I guess not," replied Mr. Burgh easily. "Tung-yu's no slouch, you bet, and didn't intend to lose his prize--" "The fan?" inquired Miss Pewsey. "Just so, the fan," replied Clarence imperturbably, "and he's on his way to China by this time." "Clarence?" Miss Pewsey rose, much excited; then calmed down. "I do not agree with you," said she firmly. "Tung-yu is innocent." "I'll lay a couple of dollars he isn't, Aunt Lavinia. Do you remember that yacht I pointed out to you last night. Well, t'was a steam deep-sea barky, two hundred tons, Lloyd's measurement I reckon--quite heavy enough to cut round the Cape into Chinese waters. Well, she arrived in the afternoon yesterday and after midnight she lighted out." "But how do you know Tung-yu was on board?" "Well, I only size that up," said Clarence musingly, "but it looks to me as though he'd engineered the job. 'Twould be easy I guess for him to have had a boat waiting for him. After he'd killed the old girl and annexed the fan, he could dance down those steps like a two year old and pick up the boat on the beach. Course it's all my fancy," added Burgh modestly, "but I guess I'm right." "I guess you're not," snapped Miss Pewsey in rather an unlady-like manner, and she rose to shake out her skirts. "I know who killed dearest Sophia," she added, wagging a lean finger at her nephew. "I know who possessed the tie, and I shall hand that man--" "Who the dickens is he anyhow?" "Rupert Ainsleigh," replied Miss Pewsey with a grim smile, and left the room, while the buccaneer stared, and then smiled. It was pleasant to think that his rival--as he considered Rupert,--should be in such straits and should be pursued by the vindictive hatred of Miss Pewsey, who would leave no stone unturned to bring about the conviction of young Ainsleigh. "Well," said the buccaneer with his hands in his pockets, "I guess I'm not taking a hand in this biznai, and it ain't lively round these quarters, I'll git." And this Mr. Burgh did. When he passed out of the front door, he brushed against a plainly dressed rubicund man with sharp grey eyes who glanced at him inquisitively. However, the stranger said nothing but proceeded to ring the bell. The maidservant who appeared took him into the drawing-room and carried a card to Miss Pewsey. The name thereon was, Orlando Rodgers, C.I.D. With this in her hand Miss Pewsey sailed into the drawing-room and looked at the comfortable creature who rose to greet her. "Mr. Orlando Rodgers, C.I.D.?" queried the little old lady. "Criminal Investigation Department," said the man in a cool voice, and with a sharp glance at the dry drab woman, "I'm in charge of the Wharf Murder Case, and have been sent down by the Treasury. As I have seen the Superintendent and can learn nothing likely to throw light on the subject, I have come to you--a relative?" "No," answered Miss Pewsey sitting down, in a rigid way. "I am the companion of the late Miss Wharf. Her only relative, down here at all events, is Miss Olivia Rayner." "Can I see her?" "I think not--at present. She is in her room weeping. Though why she should display such grief I can't understand," added Miss Pewsey spitefully. "It's natural in a relative, miss," said the detective looking hard at the withered little face. Miss Pewsey laughed in a shrill manner, and spoke between her teeth more than ever, emphasising every word as usual. "Oh, dear me, no," said she. "Miss Wharf and Olivia never got on well. The girl hated her aunt, though dearest Sophia--Miss Wharf, you know, sir--brought her up, when she hadn't a shilling or a friend in the world." "To whom have I the honour of speaking?" asked Rodgers wondering how much of this spiteful speech was true, and seeing plainly enough that the speaker was no friend to the niece. "I am Lavinia Pewsey," said that lady, "and for years I have been the cherished friend and dearest companion of Sophia. We were at school together, and were--as I may say--like two cherries on one stalk. Anything I can do to avenge her death will be done." "Punishment by the law, doesn't come under the head of vengeance!" "It comes under the head of hanging, and I'll be glad to see the rope round his neck." "Of whom are you talking?" asked Rodgers phlegmatically. "Of the man who killed my dearest friend." "Oh. I understood from the Superintendent that the affair was quite a mystery." "Not to me," snapped Miss Pewsey, "Rupert Ainsleigh strangled her to get the fan." "What fan?" asked the detective taking out his note-book, "and who is Rupert Ainsleigh?" Miss Pewsey spread her skirts and folded her hands together in a prim way. "I shall tell you all," she cried, "and please take down all I say. I am prepared to make this statement in a law court." "Well," said Rodgers moistening his pencil, "you may have to. Now this Mr. Ainsleigh?----" "Of Royabay, a few miles from Marport," said Miss Pewsey, "quite one of the old families. A nice come down for the Ainsleighs, for the last of them to die on the gallows." "He is not there yet," said Rodgers dryly, "and may I ask you to speak in a more reasonable way. I see you don't like the man." "I hate him," Miss Pewsey drew a long breath, "and I hated his father before him, to say nothing of his mother, who was a cat." "Then your evidence is prejudiced, I fancy." "Never you mind, Mr. Orlando Rodgers," she replied sharply, "take down what I say, and then you can sift the matter out for yourself. My Sophia was murdered to obtain possession of a fan----" "What fan?" asked Rodgers again. Miss Pewsey smiled, and calmly detailed all she had learned from Dr. Forge concerning the fan. "You can ask my nephew, Clarence Burgh, about these things also," she ended, "and Dr. Forge, and Mr. Christopher Walker, who brought the Chinaman Tung-yu to the ball, and----" "Wait a bit," interrupted the detective, "it appears to me from what you say," he ran a quick eye over his notes, "that the suspicion points to these Chinamen you mention. They advertised, and they wanted the fan. Now Hwei--as I hear from you--was not at the ball, but Tung-yu was. Therefore Tung-yu----" "Didn't do it," said the little woman. "I don't pretend to understand why Hwei offered death and Tung-yu money for the possession of the fan; nor do I know why this Mandarin, whatever his name may be, is so anxious to get possession of the article. But I know that the fan is gone and that Tung-yu, who did not intend murder, hasn't got it." "Then who has?" "Rupert Ainsleigh. He went up about the advertisement and knew all about the fan. I believe he killed my Sophia, and got the fan, so as to sell it for five thousand to Tung-yu--" "But a gentleman of property wouldn't--" "A gentleman of property," snorted the old maid smoothing her dress, "why he's head over ears in debt and will lose Royabay before the end of the year on account of the foreclosure of a mortgage. He'd have done anything to get money, and five thousand pounds is not a small amount." "This is all very well: but I don't see how you connected Mr. Ainsleigh with the crime." "By means of the silk necktie," said Miss Pewsey with a triumphant smile, and related how Rupert had received the scarf from Olivia, "if he is guiltless how came his silk tie round the throat of Sophia?" Rodgers was shaken by this piece of evidence. "It looks queer I admit," he said: then added, "I understand that Mr. Ainsleigh is an admirer of Miss Rayner." "He wants to marry her, and she is in love with him," said Miss Pewsey, "which is an additional reason for the crime." "I don't understand." "You're not a sharp man," said the old woman tranquilly, "don't you see that as Miss Rayner inherits dearest Sophia's money, she will get the mortgage also. Then with that, and the five thousand pounds Mr. Ainsleigh would be free from his money-troubles. Well," she added sharply, as the detective rose, "what do you say?" "Nothing at present. Give me the address of Dr. Forge who, I believe, examined the body, and of your nephew and Mr. Ainsleigh." Miss Pewsey did this with alacrity and accompanied Rodgers to the door. "Don't spare him," she said venomously, "he's guilty and he shall hang," and she shut the door herself. "What a spiteful woman," mused Rodgers, leaving Ivy Lodge, "her story is so very explicit that I am inclined to doubt it. She wants this young man scragged. Why?" He could find no answer to this question, but went on his way to see Clarence Burgh. His interview with the buccaneer was brief, Clarence related the story of the yacht, and set forth his theory of Tung-yu. "Mind," said he, "I don't like Ainsleigh, as he's trying to run the girl I want to hitch long-side of. But I guess he didn't scragg the old girl." "You speak fairer than your aunt," said Rodgers dryly. Clarence heaved up his right shoulder, "Huh," said he, "if you go by woman's jaw, you'll get on the shoals. Tung-yu scragged the old girl, you bet, and he's on his way to China in that yacht." "Well, we'll see if we can't stop the yacht. She must coal somewhere. What is her name?" "The Stormy Petrel," said Clarence, "I got that out of a boatman, who was rowing about her yesterday." "Did he see any Chinaman on board?" "No. He didn't see anyone. There didn't appear to be anyone about, or else they were at tea," concluded Clarence ungrammatically. "Humph," said the detective, noting the name of the yacht, "do you know anything of the silk tie?" "No. Aunt Lavinia says it belongs to Ainsleigh, but I never saw it till it was round the throat of the old girl. I should like to think he put it there," said Clarence pleasantly, "for I want that chap out of the way; but I believe Tung-yu's the man." "Perhaps he is. Have you a copy of that advertisement?" "No. But I reckon Ainsleigh has. Ain't you going to see him?" Rogers nodded. "Straight away. And I thank you for what you have told me. You want him hanged I presume." "Well no I reckon not. He's in my way, but I can lay him out on my own, without the lynching biznai." "You are fairer than your aunt," said the detective once more. "Go slow. She's only an acid-drop, and you can't size her up, just as an ordinary girl. She was crazy on Markham, the father of this young Ainsleigh, and----" "And proposes to hang the son to avenge herself on his father. A nice woman, truly. But it seems to me Mr. Burgh that if anyone killed Miss Wharf, Hwei is the man." "Might be. He wasn't at the ball anyhow. Tung-yu was." "But Tung-yu--as I understand from Miss Pewsey--intended to call the next day--to-day that is--and buy the fan for five thousand." "Huh," Clarence heaved up his shoulder again, "perhaps he thought he'd settle in another way. 'Day. I'll be along here whenever you like to call. I wish to see this biznai through, you bet." Rodgers departed, and sought out Rupert at Royabay. The young man was walking up and down the terrace smoking furiously. At the sight of the stranger he frowned and Rodgers noted that he looked worn and ill. "Might be money worries," thought the detective, "and it might be the other thing." However, he kept these thoughts to himself and merely detailed what he had learned from Miss Pewsey and set forth the accusation she brought against him. Ainsleigh heard the detective quietly enough, and smiled wearily when the explanation was concluded. "Miss Pewsey doesn't love me," he said quietly, "and would like to see me out of the way, so that Miss Rayner could marry her nephew." "I see," nodded Rodgers, "Miss Rayner will have the dead lady's money, and the nephew is poor." "I really don't know," replied Rupert coldly, "Mr. Burgh is a mystery to me. He comes from nowhere, though I believe he has been in China." "And knows what about the fan?" "I think so. At all events, young Walker declares that Burgh was talking to a Chinaman near the Mansion House. Burgh admits this, and also admits that the Chinaman was Hwei, who put in that advertisement. "I'm inclined to suspect Hwei himself," said Rodgers looking keenly at the worn face of the young man, "but this silk tie----" "It is mine, Mr. Rodgers. Miss Rayner gave it to me last night." "So Miss Pewsey says--on the balcony." "Quite so. Miss Pewsey was spying and saw the tie given. As the colours are rather pronounced, she could easily identify it. I took it to the cloak-room and placed it in the pocket of my overcoat." "And took it out again?" "No." Rupert rose and grew crimson, "surely you are not so unjust as to believe Miss Pewsey's malignant tale." "You may be sure, Mr. Ainsleigh, that I'll act fairly towards you," said the detective dryly, "but the tie having been used to strangle--" "I don't know how it came round her throat," interrupted Ainsleigh imperiously, "I placed the tie in my overcoat pocket--that was the last I saw of it, until I noticed it on Miss Wharf's dead body." "Did anyone else see the tie?" "Yes, Major Tidman?" "Who is he?" "A retired Army man--South American Army--who stops at Bristol Hotel. He is much respected here. I went to the cloak room, and found him talking to Tung-yu. Both, saw me place the tie in my coat." Rodgers sat up. "Oh," said he opening his eyes widely, "then Tung-yu saw you place the tie in the coat." "He did, but if you suspect he took it out again, I think you are wrong. He left the room and I exchanged a few words with Major Tidman." "What about?" "About this fan. Major Tidman told me to leave it alone. But of course I never intended to meddle with it. Miss Wharf had it, and she hated me too much to let me handle it, though she did give me the chance of making the money," said Rupert, with an after thought. "Eh, how was that?" "She offered to let me have the fan if I gave up my claim to Miss Rayner, whom she desired should marry Mr. Burgh, I refused." "Humph," said Rodgers again, "and how does Major Tidman come to know about the fan?" "I refer you to him for an answer." "And how did he come to know Tung-yu?" "I believe he met him in Canton," replied Rupert restlessly, "he had some adventure there--?" "Connected with this ubiquitous fan?" asked Rodgers sharply. "Yes. He promised to tell me the adventure to-day, but I had not seen him yet." "Humph. He may come after all. I'll call on this gentleman. At the Bristol you say. Quite so," Rodgers took a note. "Now then Mr. Ainsleigh, tell me how you came to go up about the advertisement?" Rupert related his father's dealings with Lo-Keong, and referred to the secret said to be connected with the fan. The detective heard him in silence, and appeared to be struck by his frankness. "I think it's one of the most complicated cases I ever had to do with, Mr. Ainsleigh, and will take a lot of searching into." "I hope you don't suspect me?" "Humph, the tie is, strangely enough, the rope used to strangle this woman, and you admit that it is yours. But Tung-yu saw you put it in your overcoat pocket, and he wanted the fan--" "For five thousand pounds remember. Hwei was the one who threatened to gain the fan, by killing." "Don't defend Tung-yu too much," said the detective dryly, "your position is not a pleasant one and--" "Do you mean to arrest me?" asked Rupert rising angrily. "Not at present. But no doubt at the inquest you can prove an alibi." Rupert turned away, "I can't," he said in a low voice, "I was walking outside smoking between eleven and twelve--on the beach." "That's a pity, Mr. Ainsleigh, I may have to arrest you after all. But who is this gentleman. Major Tidman!--quite so. Good-day Major." CHAPTER XI The Canton Adventure Major Tidman who was standing at the foot of the terrace stared at the man before him. "How do you know my name?" he asked, and looked towards Rupert for a reply. Mr. Rodgers produced a red silk handkerchief and wiped his face for it was noon and very warm. "A guess on my part," he answered, "Mr. Ainsleigh said you might come here, to tell him of your Canton adventure, and I fancied it might be you, Major Tidman." "I am not aware," said the Major loftily, "why you should interest yourself in my private affairs." "I interest myself in everybody's private affairs, when they have to do with murder," said Rodgers quietly. Tidman stared and gasped. "Then you are?"-- "The detective in charge of the Wharf murder case. I am glad to see you, sir," he laid a finger on Tidman's chest, "you have something to tell me no doubt?" "No," said the Major gasping again, "I have not." Rupert looked at him suddenly and the Major's small eyes fell before that direct gaze. "Let us go, into the library," said Ainsleigh tranquilly, "we may as well have a long talk before I am arrested." Tidman jumped. "Arrested," he cried staring. Something in his looks, made Rodgers take the cue thus offered, "I may have to arrest Mr. Ainsleigh for the murder," he said significantly. "But that's rubbish, why should he murder Miss Wharf?" "On account of the fan," put in Rupert grimly. "I'll never believe that--never," said Tidman vigorously. Rodgers looked at him sideways. "Well you see," said he in a cheerful voice. "Miss Wharf was strangled with a red and yellow silk tie, belonging to Mr. Ainsleigh." "I know, and I saw him place that tie in his overcoat pocket." "You say that. Quite so. Mr. Ainsleigh might have taken it out again." "No. He couldn't have done that. The attendant came back, and remained in the room all the rest of the evening." "How do you know that?" "Because I returned to the cloak-room to see if Mr. Ainsleigh was there. I learned from the attendant," said the Major volubly, "that Mr. Ainsleigh and Mr. Burgh had been fighting--" "Oh," said the detective, "so Mr. Burgh knew of the tie also?" "He did not," put in young Ainsleigh rapidly, "he came in, after I put the tie away. He insulted me, about--about a lady," said Rupert hesitating, "and I knocked him down twice." "Didn't the attendant interfere?" "No. Burgh threw him a shilling and told him to cut. I ordered the man to stay, but he obeyed Burgh. Then we had a row, and I went away." "Leaving Mr. Burgh in the cloak-room?" asked Rodgers shrewdly. "Yes. But he knew nothing about the tie. He could not have taken it. I am sure he didn't." The detective smiled in a puzzled manner. "Upon my word Mr. Ainsleigh, you defend everyone. First Tung-yu, now Mr. Burgh, who is your enemy." "I have so many enemies," said Rupert with a shrug, "Tung-yu told me that Burgh and Forge and Major Tidman were my enemies." "That's a lie on Tung-yu's part," chimed in the Major angrily. "I am not your enemy." Rupert turned on him quickly. "Prove it then," he said, sharply, "by stating that I was with you on the beach last night after eleven." "Oh, oh," cried Rodgers smiling, "so you can prove an alibi after all, Mr. Ainsleigh." "Yes," said Rupert shortly. "But I did not wish to speak, until I heard what Major Tidman had to say." Rodgers shook his head. "You have too nice a sense of honour," was his remark, "or else you are very deep." Rupert did not reply. His eyes were fixed on the Major's face, which changed to various colours. "You knew my father well Tidman?" "Yes. We were old friends--good friends," faltered the other. "Do you know how he died?" "No I do not." The Major wiped his face, "I can safely say I do not." "But you know he was murdered." The Major started. "Who told you that?" "Tung-yu, and you know Tung-yu, who might have explained the circumstances of my father's death to you." "He did not," said Tidman earnestly, "but I heard that Mr. Ainsleigh did die by violence. I don't know under what circumstances." "This is all very well gentlemen," said the detective, "but it does not help me." "It may help you, Mr. Rodgers. The murder of Miss Wharf is connected with this fan, and the Major can tell you about his Canton adventure which has to do with it also." Major Tidman turned grey and his face looked fearful, "I came to tell you, Rupert," he said trying to be calm, "but it won't help this man," he nodded towards Rodgers, "to find the assassin." "We'll see about that," replied Rodgers briskly, "let us go in and sit down. The fan is at the bottom of this business, and when I learn all about it, I may know how to act." The Major shrugged his plump shoulders and walked towards the open French window. When he passed through to the library, the detective and Ainsleigh followed. In a few minutes, they were comfortably seated. Rupert asked the two if they would have some refreshments, and receiving a reply in the affirmative, rang the bell. "Though mind you, Mr. Ainsleigh," said Rodgers, "this drinking a glass of wine doesn't stop me from arresting you, if I see fit." "You can set your mind at rest," said Rupert coldly, "I have no wish to tie you down to a bread and salt treaty. Some wine, Mrs. Petley." The housekeeper, who had entered, was as plump as ever, but her face looked yellow, and old, and haggard, and there was a terrified look in her eyes. In strange contrast to her usual volubility, she did not speak a word, but dropping a curtsey, went out. "That woman looks scared," said the detective, "She _is_ scared," assented Rupert, "we have a ghost here, Mr. Rodgers--the ghost of a monk, and Mrs. Petley thought she saw it last night." "Really," said the detective with good-humoured contempt, "she _thought_ she saw a ghost. What nonsense." "No, sir. It ain't nonsense." It was the housekeeper who spoke. Having seen the Major coming up the avenue, she knew that he would require his usual glass of port, and therefore had prepared the tray, while the conversation was taking place on the terrace. This accounted for her quick return, and she set down the tray with the jingling glasses and decanter as she spoke. "It was a ghost, sure enough," said Mrs. Petley, when the small table was placed before the three gentlemen, "the ghost of Abbot Raoul. I've seen him times and again, but never so plainly as last night. It was between eleven and twelve," added Mrs. Petley without waiting for permission to speak, "and I sat up for Master Rupert here. I took a walk outside, it being fine and dry, and like a fool, I went in to the abbey." "Why shouldn't you go there?" asked Rodgers. "Because Abbot Raoul always walks where he was burnt," replied Mrs. Petley, "and there he was sure enough. No moonlight could I see, but the stars gave a faint light, and he was near the square--the accursed square where they burnt the poor soul. I gave one screech as he swept past in his long robes and a cowl, and when I come to myself on the damp grass, he was gone. I hurried in and told Petley, who came out and searched, but bless you," went on the housekeeper with contempt, "he couldn't find a thing that had gone back to the other world--not he." "It was a dream, Mrs. Petley," said Rupert soothingly. "No, sir. Trouble is coming to the Ainsleighs, as always does when the Abbot walks. And this morning I went out and found this," and Mrs. Petley, fishing in her capacious pocket, produced a small stick which smelt like cinnamon. Round it was a roll of scarlet paper inscribed with queer characters. Rupert stretched out his hand to take it, but the detective anticipated him. "It's a joss-stick," said Rodgers. "I've seen them in the Whitechapel opium dens. Humph! Why should the ghost of an old monk use a joss-stick, like the Chinese?" Before anyone could reply, Mrs. Petley gave a cry, "I told you trouble was coming, Master Rupert, dear," she said with the tears streaming from her fat face, "and anything to do with that weary Chiner where your poor pa lost his life always do bring trouble. Oh, dear me," she put her silk apron to her eyes and walked slowly out of the room. "I must tell my John. He may be able to say what's coming, as he have a gift of prophecy, that he have." When Mrs. Petley closed the door after her, the three men looked at one another. "Do you believe in this ghost, Mr. Ainsleigh?" asked the detective, examining the joss-stick. Rupert did not give a direct answer. "I don't know what to believe, Mr. Rodgers. Our family traditions have always pointed to the walking of of Abbot Raoul before trouble, and it might be so. I have never seen the ghost myself, though." "Your ghost is a Chinaman," said the detective, tapping the stick. "But what would a Chinaman be doing in the cloisters?" "Ah. That's what we've got to find out. There was a yacht in Marport Harbour last night, which came at midday, and departed in a hurry after midnight. Burgh says he believes Tung-yu went away in her, after committing the murder." "Even if he did," said Rupert, calmly, "that does not show how the joss-stick came here, or why a Chinaman should be masquerading as a monk, for that, I take it, is your meaning." "It is. I believe there were other Chinamen on board that boat," was the detective's reply. "Perhaps this man Hwei came to the Abbey." "He might have come," said Ainsleigh, carelessly. "Or Tung-yu," went on Rodgers. "No," said the Major who had kept silent all this time, but had observed everything, "it was not Tung-yu's day." Rodgers turned on him. "What do you mean by that?" The Major settled himself more comfortably in his chair. "I'll tell you my adventure at Canton first," he said, "and then you may understand. I can't get to the bottom of the matter myself, for why Lo-Keong should have a private god of good luck is more than I can tell." The others looked at him, amazed at this queer speech. "What is this private god?" asked the detective. "I don't know, save that it is called Kwang-ho." Rupert started. "That was the god mentioned in the advertisement." "Yes, so it was," replied the Major, quietly, "but just you wait and hear my story. It may lead to something being discovered." "One moment, Mr. Ainsleigh. Show me the advertisement." Rupert rose, and going to the writing-desk took therefrom the slip he had cut from the paper. Rodgers read it, quietly. "I see. Here is mentioned the doom of the god, Kwang-ho." "Lo-Keong's private god of good luck," said the Major. "Are there private as well as public gods in China?" Tidman looked perplexed. "I can't say. I know nothing. Wait and hear what I can tell," he settled himself again and began to speak rapidly. "I was in Canton seven years ago," said he, "I had made my money here, and didn't intend to travel again. But Miss Wharf persuaded me to go to China, to see if I could find out why Markham Ainsleigh had been killed." Rupert looked astonished. "Why? she hated my father." "She loved him first and hated him later," said Tidman, quietly, "a fine woman was poor Miss Wharf. I was in love with her--" "I never knew that Tidman." "I was though," said the Major, "and Miss Pewsey hated me for being in love with her. I spoke badly of Miss Wharf to you Ainsleigh because I was angered with her--" "You called her a mass of granite." "And so she is," said the Major angrily, "she promised to marry me if I went to China and learned how your father came by his death. I did go, but I came back without learning more, than that he was murdered, so Miss Wharf refused to keep her promise. I believe it was that Pewsey cat's fault." "Well--well--go on," said Rodgers looking at his watch, "all this business is very round-about. I want to get on with my work." "This may have to do with it," said the Major smartly. "Well, I was in Canton, and intended to go up to the Kan-su province to make enquiries. I met Forge in Canton. He had just come from Pekin, and showed me round. He laughed at the idea that Markham had died by violence, and said it was dysentery." "So he always said," murmured Rupert, who listened intently. "And told a lie," retorted Tidman, "however I believed him, but all the same I intended to make enquiries at the mine of the Hwei River in the Kan-su province. But I stopped in Canton with Forge for a time, as he said he would go up with me. In some way, the fact of my trying to learn the truth about Markam's death got about." "No doubt Forge told it to others," suggested Rupert. "I don't know. I never got to the bottom of the business. But one day a half-starved Chinaman stopped me in the street, and told me he could explain, if I came with him. I went to a miserable house in a low part of the city. The man closed the door, and then drew a fan from his breast--" "The fan in question?" asked Rodgers making a note. "Yes--the very article. He told me that this fan would reveal the truth, and offered it to me." "For money?" "No. He refused to take a penny. He seemed anxious to get rid of the fan, and kept looking round everywhere as though he thought someone might be listening. I asked him how the fan could tell about the death, but all he said, was, that it could." "But in what way?" asked Ainsleigh, puzzled. "I really don't know," said the Major, with an air of fatigue. "I am telling you all I know. I took the fan and cleared, and got home safely enough. Then I hid away the fan--where it doesn't matter; but I have travelled so much that I always keep a secret place for money and valuables. I placed the fan there, though I really didn't know what to make of the matter. After a few days I came to my rooms to find that everything had been ripped open and smashed and searched--" "And the fan was gone," said Rodgers. "Not it. They--whosoever they were who searched, could not find my hiding place. Well, a day or two later, as I was walking along the street at night, I was seized up and gagged, and carried to some low Chinese house. There a Chinaman examined me, and asked me what I had done with the fan--" "What sort of a man was he?" asked Rupert, "would you know him again?" The Major looked doubtful. "Chinamen are all so alike," he said, "but this chap had only one eye, and was a villainous looking beast. He declared that he knew the first Celestial had given me the fan, and that he wanted it. I refused to give it up. He took out a knife, and said he would slice me up. Oh," broke off the Major looking grey and old, "however shall I forget that terrible moment, Ainsleigh. Do you wonder that I shudder to relate this adventure, and that I refuse to speak of it. I was in that miserable place, in the midst of a horde of Chinamen, bound and helpless, with a knife at my throat. I never did care for death," said Tidman boldly, "but to be cut slowly into slices, was more than I could stand." "Why didn't you give up the fan then?" asked Rodgers. "Because I made up my mind that slicing or no slicing, I wasn't going to be bullied by a lot of heathen devils. The position was awful, but I'm an Englishman, and I resolved to hold off to the last moment, I dare say I would have given up the fan after all, as the one-eyed brute began to cut me up, I lost a big toe--" "Oh," said Rupert, while Rodgers shook his head, "did this man cut a toe off?" "Yes--my big toe. I was about to give in, when suddenly a small Chinese boy dressed in red--queerly enough, as the Chinese don't go in much for that colour--appeared and said something. The one-eyed Chinaman scowled, and put his knife away. Then he cleared out with the boy and his other friends and I was left alone. Then with the loss of blood, and the pain of my toe I fainted." "No wonder," said Ainsleigh, "I don't blame you. Well?" "Well, then I came to my senses in my own room. Forge was with me and said that he had traced me to the hovel and had rescued me with the aid of the Canton police. He declared that I would have to leave Canton at once, or this one-eyed Chinaman would be after me. I agreed, and with Forge I went that very day on board a homeward-bound steamer. I thanked Forge for having helped me, and he asked if I would give him the fan as a reward. I refused, as I wanted to know how it could tell about Markham's death. Forge said that if I kept possession of the fan, the one-eyed Chinaman would track me to England and kill me. But I held out, till I got to Marport. Then I grew weary of Forge worrying me, particularly as he promised to do what he could to learn the secret of the fan, and help me to marry Miss Wharf. So he took the fan, and then, as you know, Ainsleigh, he took it out to China again, where it fell into the hands of a pirate from whom Clarence Burgh received it." "But how did it get from Dr. Forge's hands into those of the pirate?" asked Rodgers curiously. "I don't know; you can ask Forge. He lives here?" The detective took a note of the doctor's address. "That's all right," he said, "there's no doubt the poor lady was killed to procure this fan. Did you tell her of your adventure?" "No," said the Major with a shudder. "I merely said that I could not learn how Markham was killed and she refused to marry me. I did not care about speaking of the adventure. You know how the fan came into Miss Wharf's possession Mr. Rodgers?" "Yes," the detective nodded, "Mr. Burgh told me, but I'll have another talk with him. Humph. It seems to me that one of these Chinamen killed Miss Wharf, and that the tie was used to lay the blame on Mr. Ainsleigh here." "Well," said Ainsleigh drawing a breath, "I am glad to hear that you don't suspect me, but I can't think that Tung-yu stole the tie, even though he did see me place it in the coat." "I'll look after that cloak-room attendant," said Rodgers, making another note, "and he'll have to give an account of himself. But I don't see what this private god Kwang-ho has to do with the matter." "I can only tell you this," said Major Tidman, "I had a cold last night and stopped in my room. But I heard that Tung-yu was down the stairs, and, as I knew him in Canton, I went to have a look for him. He was a pleasant companion in Canton." "Did you tell him about the fan and your adventure?" "No, Ainsleigh, and I was annoyed that you should have let slip that I had such an adventure, I don't want to be mixed up in the matter. Tung-yu is nice enough, but if he has to do with the fan he is quite capable of turning nasty and making things unpleasant for me. But I mentioned about his advertisement, and how I came to know of it through you. He confessed that Lo-Keong had lost the fan and wished it back again, as it had to do with some family business. The finding of it was referred to the god Kwang-ho, and the priest of the god, said that two men were to search for the fan." "Hwei and Tung-yu." "Yes. They were to search on alternate days. If Hwei found it he was to kill the person from whom he got it. If it was Tung-yu's day he was to give the fortunate person five thousand pounds." "And whose day was it on the night of the crime?" "Hwei's," said the Major, "that was why Tung-yu could not buy the fan when Miss Wharf offered it to him." CHAPTER XII At the Inquest When Mr. Orlando Rodgers of the C.I.D. rolled into the Superintendent's office the next day to relate what he had heard, he was not so glib as usual. After sleeping on the extraordinary tale he had heard from Major Tidman, and considering the fragments imparted by Clarence Burgh, and young Ainsleigh, he came to look on the matter as something to do with the Arabian Nights. The fan which the deceased lady had carried at the ball was certainly gone, and the whole of these marvellous matters connected with China, hung on the fan. But Miss Wharf may have been murdered for some other reason, and Rodgers was half inclined, when looking into the case in the cold searching morning light, to abandon the fan theory. But he delayed doing this until he had consulted with Superintendent Young, who looked after the Marport police. "What do you think of it?" he asked, when his tale was told. The Superintendent was a tall thin man with a cold eye and a distrustful manner. He believed only half he saw, and absolutely nothing he heard. Consequently when Rodgers ended, and his opinion was asked, he sniffed disdainfully, and put on his most official expression. "It's a fairy tale," said Young in his dry voice, which was like the creaking of a rusty wheel. "Well now, the woman was murdered." "But not for this fan, Mr. Rodgers." "Then what motive do you think--?" "I don't undertake to say, sir. Let us gather all the evidence we can and submit it to an intelligent jury at the inquest. It takes place to-day at the public house near the corner of the Cliff Road and not far from Ivy Lodge. When the jury has inspected the body, it will sit with the Coroner at the Bull's Head." "A Chinaman calling himself Tung-yu was at the ball you know," said Rodgers, unwilling to abandon the theory in spite of his doubts. "Where is he now?" "I can't say. Mr. Christopher Walker brought him down, and I went to see that young gentleman before he departed for business this morning. He told me that Tung-yu was a clerk in the same firm of tea merchants as he was employed with, and had not been at the office since he left to come to the ball. Mr. Walker last saw Tung-yu at the door of the hotel, looking out across the pier." "Well," said Young drily. "That yacht was there," went on Rodgers, "and showed a green light so it's just possible that Mr. Burgh may be right and that the Chinaman did steam away in her." "Well then, search for the yacht." "I intend to, and when I find her--" "Mr. Tung-yu will have an explanation. No, Mr. Rodgers," said the Superintendent rising, "I can't believe all this business is about a trifle such as this fan. Some more serious motive is at the bottom of this murder. Now Mr. Ainsleigh's tie--" "I can explain that," said the detective, and he did. Young listened disbelievingly. "So he says," was his comment. "But I don't think Mr. Ainsleigh is the sort of man to commit a brutal crime like this, and in so public a place." "Everyone's capable of committing a crime if there's anything to be gained," was the Superintendent's philosophy, "and Mr. Ainsleigh's very agreeable manner with which you appear to be struck, may be a mask to hide an evil nature." "Oh rubbish; begging your pardon Mr. Young. Look at this joss-stick," and Rodgers held it out, "that was found in the ruins of Royabay Abbey, so you see some Chinaman must be mixed up in the job. I am beginning to believe that the tale may be true after all." "It's too wild--too far-fetched. I can't believe it." "Because you haven't imagination." "We don't want imagination in this matter, Mr. Rodgers. Facts sir." Rodgers got up and put on his hat. "Well, we'll not be able to agree, I can see that," said he, "and as the case is in my hands, I am going away to look after evidence." "Why not arrest Mr. Ainsleigh?" "Because the evidence against him is not sufficiently strong," the detective sat down again. "See here Mr. Superintendent, if I so chose I could manufacture a case against three of these people at least, and give it to them pretty strong too. Supposing, for the sake of theorising mind, we say Mr. Ainsleigh killed the woman--" "Which I am inclined to think he did, on the tie's evidence." "Very good, I can show you how strong you can make the case against him, Mr. Young. This young man was at the ball, he hated the deceased and she hated him on account of the difficulty of the marriage with Miss Rayner. Ainsleigh wants money badly, and might have killed the old woman to get the fan and sell it for five thousand pounds. Also by marrying Miss Rayner who will inherit Miss Wharf's money, he gets rid of a mortgage that's troubling him. What was easier for him, than to pretend to put the silk scarf in his coat pocket, so as to blind those who saw him do it, and then to lure Miss Wharf out on to those steps and scrag her. Then he could pass the fan to Tung-yu who wanted it, and arrange about the money being paid. After that and when Tung-yu had gone off to the yacht, Mr. Ainsleigh could slip back into the ball-room and assist in finding the body. And remember, he says, he was strolling on the beach smoking, between the hours of eleven and twelve, and won't prove an alibi, though between ourselves I think he can through Major Tidman." "Well," said Young dryly, "doesn't this go to prove his guilt." "I can prove Tung-yu's in the same way," said Rodger's coolly, "he was in the cloak-room when Mr. Ainsleigh placed the scarf in the coat. He could easily have stolen it, as these Chinamen are clever thieves, and have then lured Miss Wharf on to the steps under the pretence of treating about the fan. Suddenly he slips the scarf round her throat before she can cry out, goes down the steps and on to the beach where a boat is waiting for him, and by now, may be on his way to his employer the Mandarin Lo-Keong." "It sounds feasible I admit, but--" "One moment," went on Rodgers eagerly, "quite as strong a case can be made out against Major Tidman. He did not come to the ball, but lurked in his room all the evening. Yet he came down to see Tang-yu--what about?--to sell the fan of course--" "You can't prove that." "Am I proving anything? I am simply showing you what strong cases can be built up out of nothing. Well then, Tidman sees the scarf put in the coat by a young man, whom he knows is at enmity with the deceased, and takes it out again. He gets Miss Wharf to come on to the terrace--any pretext will do, as he is her lover and her old friend. There, he strangles her on the steps and taking the fan, passes it along to the Chinaman who makes for the yacht. So you see if I chose I can build up a case against each of these three gentlemen, and each equally strong. Why if I had a mind to entangle young Mr. Burgh in the affair I could do so." "But Tung-yu, Mr. Burgh and Major Tidman might prove alibi's." "So they might, and Mr. Ainsleigh might do so also." "He has not done so yet and if he was in danger, he would." "Quite so," said Rodgers quickly, and seeing the slip, "and his very reluctance to prove an alibi--for surely someone besides Tidman must have seen him on the beach--shows me he is innocent. However this isn't business Mr. Young, so I'll go and see what evidence I can gather." So to Dr. Forge went the detective, feeling very bewildered over the case. And small blame to him, for the matter was surely most perplexing. It is only in novels that the heaven-born detective (in the confidence of the author) displays wonderful cleverness in finding clues where none exist. But a flesh and blood worker like Rodgers had to puzzle out the matter in real life as best he could. He was not at all sanguine that he would run down the assassin of Miss Wharf. On the face of it, Rupert Ainsleigh appeared to be guilty, and Rodgers doubted his guilt for this very reason. "I believe one of these Chinaman did it," said Rodgers as he rang Forge's bell. Dr. Forge was within, and consented at once to see the detective. When the two were in the Chinese room, Rodgers unfolded himself, and asked Forge, who knew the Chinese character, what he thought. "My dear sir, the case is plain," said Forge calmly, "Tung-yu gave Hwei the office, and lured Miss Wharf on to the steps where Hwei strangled her with the scarf stolen by Tung-yu so as to throw suspicion on Mr. Ainsleigh." "Humph. It looks like it," said Rodgers musingly. "So you believe this wild story of Major Tidman's." "I _know_ it is true," said Forge quietly. "I helped him to get free as he related. I was a partner with Mr. Markham Ainsleigh in the mine on the Hwei River. I went to Pekin about a concession, and while I was away, Mr. Ainsleigh died of dysentery. As to the fan,--I can't exactly say. I never knew of this private god business, but it's the kind of thing Lo-Keong might invent. He is a very superstitious man, and like Napoleon, he believes in his star. He was concerned in the Boxer rebellion, but afterwards he joined the Court party of the Dowager Empress who is now all powerful. I never saw the fan in his hand, but it might have to do with a secret." "What kind of a secret?" "I can't say unless it has to do with Lo-Keong's political fortunes. He has many enemies, who envy his rapid rise. These enemies probably stole the fan to ruin him. How this coolie, who gave it to Major Tidman, got hold of it I don't know. But he was glad to get rid of it, which makes me think the story of the alternate days and the blessing of the god Kwang-ho might be true. The Chinese do not think as we do Mr. Rodgers, and have their own way of settling these matters. The attack on Tidman, when he had the fan in Canton, shows clearer than ever, that it was wanted by Lo-Keong's enemies. He gave it to me--" "Why did you want it?" "For two reasons," said Forge quietly, "in the first place from what happened to Tidman I saw that while he held the fan he was in danger--" "But then you were in the same danger," objected the detective. "I was, and I expected trouble. But I was better able to deal with the matter than Tidman as I understand the Chinese character. I got the fan in London and locked it up in yonder cabinet, I thought it was there all the time, and when I found it gone, I was quite annoyed, as Major Tidman will tell you. Then I recollected that I had taken it back to China to give to Lo-Keong. That is my second reason Mr. Rodgers. I knew I could get a concession I wanted through Lo-Keong's influence, and I did. So the fan went back to him." "And you forgot that you had given it." "I did. It seems strange to you, but as I told Tidman and Miss Pewsey, my memory is impaired by opium smoking. However, that is the story of the fan, and Burgh got it from the hand of the dead pirate. How the pirate came possessed of it I can't say. Apparently Lo-Keong lost it again." "He couldn't have valued it much, if he lost it so often." "He valued it at five thousand pounds and more," said the Doctor dryly, "how it was lost I can't say. I may find out when I go to China again, in a few months. Lo-Keong is in Pekin, and, as we are friends, he will tell me, and show me the fan again." "Ah. Then you believe----" "I believe it is on its way to Lo-Keong, and that Tung-yu and Hwei came together down here to get it. When only one was on the spot this god business of alternate days made the matter difficult. With both together, the owner of the fan was bound to be killed or made rich. Unfortunately for Miss Wharf the day or night was Hwei's and he carried out the order of the god Kwang-ho by strangling her." "Well," said Rodgers rising, "all I can say is that I'm glad I do not live in China. How much of this is to be made public." "My advice to you is to make nothing public, or as little as you can," said Dr. Forge dryly, "you see how persistent these Chinamen are. You make trouble and you may be killed also. Your being in England won't save you any more than it saved Miss Wharf, poor soul." "I shall do my duty in spite of all," said Rodgers coolly, "I am not going to be frightened by a couple of Chinese brutes." "Very clever brutes," said Forge softly, but Rodgers took no notice and marched away with his head in the air. Come what may, he was determined to punish the assassin of Miss Wharf and if it was Hwei, the man would have to be caught. "I'll go to Pekin myself for him," said Rodgers angrily, "I'm not going to be bested by these barbarians." Little that was new came to his hand before the inquest, which was a comparatively tame affair. The jury inspected the body and then adjourned to the Bull's Head to hear the case. Rodgers set forth what evidence he had gained, but touched as lightly as possible on the Chinese business. He called Dr. Forge who deposed to having examined the body and asserted that Miss Wharf had been killed between eleven and twelve. She must have been strangled almost instantaneously as, had she cried out, she would have been overheard by those on the terrace. This evidence caused but little sensation. When Rupert was called however, all were excited. He deposed as to the scarf which he had received from Olivia, and said what he had done with it. He declared that he had been walking on the beach smoking, and only returned to the ball-room shortly before midnight when the body was discovered. He stated that he had spoken to Major Tidman on the beach. And thus proved an alibi clearly enough. The rest of the evidence was not very important. Chris Walker told how he had brought Tung-yu to the ball and handed in a slip of advertisement, and then Rupert was recalled to tell what he knew. Tidman related his interview with Tung-yu, and described how both had seen Rupert place the tie in the overcoat pocket. Then it appeared that the whole of the case turned on the fact that the scarf had been removed from the pocket. No one knew. Miss Pewsey said that Rupert took it: but her evidence was so obviously prejudiced that the jury would not believe all she said. Lotty Dean who was at the ball, declared that she saw Miss Wharf cross the terrace about eleven and go towards the floral arch on the other side of which were the steps. She was quite alone, and seemed tranquil, "she was fanning herself at the moment," said the witness. "Ah!" said the Coroner, "then she had the fan at that time." "It was gone when we found the body," put in Miss Pewsey, and was rebuked for speaking out of order. The interest of the case turned on the evidence of Dalham, the attendant in the cloak-room. He was a dissipated-looking man, and gave his evidence very unwillingly. Owing to his having left the cloak-room at Burgh's request, Rupert, as he threatened to do, had reported him to the manager and Mr. Dalham had been dismissed. This loss of his situation did not make him any the sweeter towards Ainsleigh, but all the same, he could not state on his oath, that the young man had returned to take the tie again from the pocket. Nor had the Chinaman, or Major Tidman returned. Dalham knew the Major well, and as he phrased it, "would have spotted him at once," while the gay dress of Tung-yu would have been equally conspicuous had he attempted to meddle with a coat which did not belong to him. "You did not leave the room again?" asked the Coroner. "I only left it once," said Dalham. "Because Mr. Burgh and Mr. Ainsleigh wanted to fight." "We've heard about that, and it has nothing to do with the case," said the coroner. "But you were in the room the rest of the evening?" "I've said so a dozen times sir," growled the badgered man. "Lots of people came for their things and some late arrivals left theirs but I was at my post all the time, except that once, when I left Mr. Burgh with Mr. Ainsleigh. I never saw Major Tidman nor Mr. Ainsleigh nor the Chinaman touch the cloak." The coroner called Burgh and asked him if he was alone in the room at any time. Clarence frankly admitted that he was. "But as I never saw Ainsleigh place the tie in the coat and never knew that he possessed such a tie, I don't see how you can accuse me." Much more evidence was given, but it all led to no result. Finally the jury, having heard much more of the Chinese story than Rodgers approved of, brought in a verdict against Tung-yu. Hwei, they could say nothing about, as he had not been present. But Tung-yu wanted the fan and the fan had disappeared, while Tung-yu was also absent. "Wilful murder against Tung-yu," was the verdict, and on hearing the evidence, and on reading all that had been said in the papers, the general public agreed with the verdict. Under the circumstances no other could have been given. Only one person dissented. "It was that Ainsleigh who killed dearest Sophia," said Miss Pewsey. CHAPTER XIII The Will The funeral of Miss Wharf was attended by many people. Of course all her friends came with the usual wreaths of flowers, but owing to the tragic circumstances of her death, many strangers were present. She was buried in the family vault with much ceremony, and then the mourners departed talking of the crime. It was the general opinion that Tung-yu,--who had not yet been heard of,--was responsible for the death, and that he had sailed away in the Stormy Petrel. Rodgers having returned to Town after the inquest was making inquiries about the yacht. When he discovered her, he hoped to learn particulars as to the flight of Tung-yu. These many days Rupert had not seen Olivia, although he had called at Ivy Lodge. But Miss Pewsey, who took charge of everything in her usual meddlesome way, would not allow him to be admitted. Olivia did not even know of his visit. She remained in her room, and mourned the death of her aunt. Miss Wharf had certainly been a good friend to her, but she could not be said to have been a kindly aunt. All the same Olivia's conscience pricked her, for having secretly married Rupert. As she now thought, she should have told her aunt. But the marriage was decided upon in a hurry, and when the girl had been more than usually piqued by the insulting speeches of Miss Wharf. However, the old woman was dead, and Olivia, little as she loved her, wept for her tragic end. Miss Rayner, during her mourning, read the evidence given at the inquest, and wondered why she had not been called as a witness, if only to prove that she had given the scarf to Rupert. She thought it extraordinary that Tung-yu should have used the tie to strangle Miss Wharf, and could not think how it came into his possession. After some thought she concluded, that he had taken the scarf from Rupert's pocket, so as to implicate him in the crime, and had bribed Dalham the attendant, who certainly was not above being bribed, to say nothing about the matter. If this were the case, Dalham would probably blackmail Tung-yu for the rest of his life, as he was just the kind of rascal to make money in shady ways. Then it occurred to Olivia that as Tung-yu had sailed for China, presumably in the yacht, Dalham would not be able to make a milch cow of him. However, whether Tung-yu was guilty or not, she cared little. Rupert was safe, in spite of the evidence of the scarf, and so long as he escaped being arrested, the girl felt perfectly happy. After the funeral Olivia came downstairs again, and found Miss Pewsey looking after things as usual. The little old maid was most polite, and it seemed as though she was now anxious to make much of Olivia, thinking she would inherit the money. Miss Pewsey had not a shilling to bless herself with, and for years had lived on the bounty of Miss Wharf. Now that Olivia was to be the mistress of Ivy Lodge, Miss Pewsey appeared desirous of making herself pleasant, so that she might remain. Olivia saw through her newly born politeness, and, although she disliked the woman, was not averse to her remaining for a time at least. "I should be glad for you to remain altogether," explained Olivia when matters came to be discussed, "but of course now that my aunt is gone I may marry Mr. Ainsleigh." "Oh he'll marry you quick enough for your money," snapped Miss Pewsey, "not but what he's a handsome young fellow, but--" "Don't run down Rupert," interrupted Olivia flushing, "I love him. You have never been just to him." Miss Pewsey coughed. "I don't think he is a very good young man." "I hate good young men," said Olivia. "Mr. Chris Walker is one of those who never cost his mother a single pang. Why my aunt should wish me to marry such a milksop, I can't understand." "Well then, why not marry Clarence?" asked the old maid, "he is not a milksop and has cost his mother--poor soul many a pang. And he loves you dearly, Olivia. I should think you would be able to live very nicely on five hundred a year and with this house rent free." "If I come into possession of the property that is." "Oh, I am sure you will," said Miss Pewsey effusively. "To whom should dear Sophia leave the money, if not to you, her nearest relative." "She might have left it to you, for she loved you, while she only tolerated me." Miss Pewsey threw up her mittened hands with a cry of dismay. "Oh my dear there's no chance of my being so lucky. Sophia was very close about money matters--" "Surely not with you. Miss Pewsey. She always consulted you in everything. You had great influence over her." "If so, I made no use of it for my own benefit," said Miss Pewsey with great dignity. "Sophia never consulted me about her wills. I know she made several, and dictated the last just a week before her death. While she was confined to her room with that cold you know, Olivia. I suppose," Miss Pewsey tittered, "I suppose she wanted to be amused." "I shouldn't think making one's will was amusing," said Olivia dryly, "however, the lawyer will be here this afternoon to read the will, and we shall know if I inherit." "I am sure you will get the money. And dear, you won't forget your poor Lavinia," purred Miss Pewsey. "Let me remain here with you, until you marry Mr. Ainsleigh, or until I marry Theophilus." "Are you really going to marry Dr. Forge?" asked Miss Rayner, looking with secret amazement at the withered face and shrunken form of Miss Pewsey and wondering what the doctor could see in her to make her his wife. "I really am," said Miss Pewsey emphatically and with a shrewd look in her eyes. "And I see that you think it is ridiculous at my age to marry. Also, I am not handsome I know. All the same, Theophilus is willing to make me Mrs. Forge, and I dare say I'll grace the position well enough. It isn't love," added Miss Pewsey, "at our age dear that would be too absurd. We are simply entering into a partnership. He has money and I have brains." "Dr. Forge has brains also." "Not so much brain power as I have. I am not lovely I know dear, but I am clever," and Miss Pewsey drew herself up proudly. "Why poor dear Sophia would never have died worth so much money but for me. Ah, if she had only given me that fan when I asked her, she would not have been killed and I should have got five thousand pounds and more from Tung-yu for her. But she would keep the fan," Miss Pewsey squeezed out a tear, "and so met with her doom. That nasty Chinaman." Miss Pewsey shook a small fist. "I wish he could hang." Olivia looked at her. "I heard that you disagreed with the verdict Miss Pewsey." "Meaning that I said Mr. Ainsleigh was guilty," snapped the old maid, "well I did, dear, but I have changed my mind." Miss Rayner did not believe this, for Miss Pewsey looked very malignant as she spoke. Her change of opinion was made, merely to adapt herself to circumstances and to retain a home until such time as her marriage with Forge, would enable her to dispense with Miss Rayner's help. However, Olivia did not argue the point. She wished to keep on good terms with the old maid, until Rupert declared the secret marriage. Then she could go to the Abbey, and leave Miss Pewsey behind with all other disagreeable things. With Pastor, the solicitor of the deceased lady, came Clarence Burgh and Dr. Forge. Lady Jabe, more manly than ever, appeared with Chris Walker, who had taken a holiday on purpose to hear the will read, and Lady Jabe explained this to Miss Pewsey in a whisper. "I know that poor Sophia wished Chris to marry Olivia," she said, "so I thought the will might state that the money would be left to her on such a condition. I therefore made Chris ask for a holiday, so that he might hear of his good fortune." "Let us hope it will come," aid Miss Pewsey, dryly, "but fortune or no fortune, Olivia will stick to young Ainsleigh." "He is a nice young man, but poor." "Chris is poor also. Yet you want him to marry Olivia." "I think Chris has a better character than young Ainsleigh, who looks as though he has a will of his own. Now Chris has none. I have broken it, and Olivia as Mrs. Walker, can order him about like a slave. I hope Sophia has made the will as I wished." "You'll hear in a minute. For my part," added Miss Pewsey in her spiteful way, "I hope Sophia has left the money to Olivia, on condition that she marries Clarence, and keeps him at home." "And keeps him on the income," corrected Lady Jabe, who did not at all approve of this speech. "No man should live on his wife." "You propose that Chris should do so." "Indeed no. He earns quite a good salary at the office, and I could live with the young couple to prevent waste." "I am quite sure you would," said Miss Pewsey, "if you get the money." Lady Jabe would have made a sharp reply, as Miss Wharf being dead, she was under no obligation to curry favour with Miss Pewsey. But at that moment she saw Chris talking to Olivia, and as the girl seemed deeply interested, she pointed out the two with her cane. "I see Chris is losing no time," she murmured, "such a lover as he is." But had she heard Chris talking, she would not have been so happy. The young man was simply replying to a question put by Olivia, as to the whereabouts of Tung-yu. "I really don't know where he is, Miss Rayner," said Chris, earnestly. "There was a police-officer at our place the other day inquiring. But Tung-yu has not been near Kum-gum Li's since I took him to the ball. I believe he asked me to get him an invitation so that he might kill your aunt." "Does Kum-gum Li know anything about him," asked Olivia. "No. He came with a letter of introduction from a mandarin----" "Lo-Keong?" "No. That is not the name--let me see--the Mandarin, Hop Sing----" "Ah," said Forge, who was listening, "Lo-Keong's rival." "I never knew that. But Kum-gum Li gave Tung-yu a place as extra clerk when he received the letter. He knows nothing more than what the letter explained." "And what did it explain?" asked Forge with sudden interest. "I can't tell you," replied Chris coldly, "I am not in the confidence of my employer, and if I were," he added fixing an indignant eye on the sardonic face of the doctor, "I should say nothing." "Quite right," replied Forge not at all disconcerted, "you keep out of these Chinese affairs. There's danger in them." "Connected with the fan?" demanded Olivia. "Yes," said Forge slowly, "connected with the fan." Olivia being a woman and curious, would have asked further questions, to which Dr. Forge might have hesitated to reply, but that Miss Pewsey called her dear Theophilus to her side. The will was about to be read and Miss Pewsey--so she said--wanted support. Forge crossed to the withered little shrimp he had chosen, heaven knows why, for his wife and sat down. The lawyer opened an envelope and took out a rustling parchment. Just as he cleared his throat, the door opened and the maid announced "Mr. Ainsleigh." Miss Pewsey glared, and no one appeared glad to see him. Lady Jabe least of all, as she knew he was a powerful rival to Chris. But Rupert bowed to the company in silence, took no notice of their cold looks, and walked over to where Olivia sat, a little apart. He seated himself beside her. The girl smiled a little faintly, and then gazed straight before her. No one made any remark, as Pastor was beginning to read the will. Miss Wharf, it appeared, died worth one thousand a year and the house and furniture and land of Ivy Lodge. Five hundred a year went to a distant relative, as Miss Wharf was unable to leave it to anyone else, by reason of only having a life interest in this amount. Then a few personal bequests were left to Lady Jabe, to Chris Walker, and to some other friends. Ivy Lodge, and the furniture, and the land it was built on, and the remaining five hundred a year was left to--Lavinia Pewsey. When the name was mentioned the little old maid quivered, and Olivia, pale and quiet, rose to her feet. In a moment Miss Pewsey, prepared for battle, was on her feet also, and the two women looked at one another. "You knew of this will," said Olivia quietly. "No," replied Miss Pewsey. "You did. And all your paying court to me was a blind, so that I might not suspect Aunt Sophia had left the money to you." "Dearest Sophia left the money to whom she chose," said Miss Pewsey, in a sharp, shrill voice, "do you mean to say, that I exercised any undue influence over her?" "I say nothing," was Olivia's reply: "but hard on me as my aunt was, I do not think she would have left me penniless, while the money which belonged to my family goes to a perfect stranger." "A stranger," cried Miss Pewsey tossing her head, "am I a stranger, indeed? I was hand and glove with dear Sophia when we were at school together. I gave up my life to her----" "And you have got your reward," said Olivia bitterly. "As you say," retorted Miss Pewsey, tossing her head again, "but the will is in order, and I had nothing to do with the making of it. I appeal to Mr. Pastor." "Why, certainly," said the lawyer, looking on Olivia with something like pity. "Miss Wharf gave me instructions to make a new will, during the week before she met with her untimely end. Miss Pewsey was not in the room----" "But no doubt she induced my aunt to cut me out of the will." "No," cried Miss Pewsey breathing very hard, and looking more drab than ever. "I won't stand this. Your aunt had good cause to take the money from you--oh you deceiving girl." At this Rupert suddenly rose and took Olivia's hand. He half guessed what was coming, and looked at the spiteful face of the heiress. Olivia stared. She could not understand. Miss Pewsey was about to speak, when Mr. Pastor intervened. "May I be permitted to remark that I have not finished reading the will of the deceased lady," said he sweetly. "There's no more money to be disposed of," said Olivia bitterly, "my enemy has got it all." Pastor made a gesture of silence to prevent Miss Pewsey bursting out into a volume of words. "There is no more money to be disposed of as you say, Miss Rayner, but Miss Wharf sets forth in the will why she disinherited you." "Ah," cried Olivia a light breaking in upon her, and reading the truth in Miss Pewsey's look of triumph, "so my aunt knew----" "She knew that you had secretly married the gentleman beside you." Everyone was on his or her feet by this time, and every look was directed towards Olivia. "Is this true?" asked Lady Jabe. "Yes," cried Miss Pewsey, before either Rupert or Olivia could speak, "of course it is true. Let them deny it if they can. I heard Olivia say herself, that she had been married at a registrar's." Miss Rayner, or rather Mrs. Ainsleigh turned on the little woman, "I should like to know when I said that to you Miss Pewsey?" "You never said it to me--oh dear no," said Miss Pewsey shrilly, "you were not straightforward enough. But I heard--oh yes I heard." "Miss Wharf," said the lawyer folding up the will, "told me that she learned of this from Miss Pewsey, just before she called me in, to make a new will. The five hundred a year was left to you Miss----" "Mrs. Ainsleigh," said Rupert quickly. "Very good. To you Mrs. Ainsleigh, by a former will. But on discovering the secret marriage, my client made a new will--this," he shook it, "and Miss Pewsey benefits." "Miss Pewsey has every right to benefit," said Mrs. Ainsleigh in a clear cold voice, "she has been well paid, for being a spy." "Spy," shrilled Miss Pewsey glaring, "yes I was a spy in the interests of dearest Sophia. I followed you several times, when you went to meet Mr. Ainsleigh near the flag-staff, and on the last occasion----" "Ah," said Olivia tranquilly, "so I thought. I heard something moving. It was you, concealed. Rupert said it was a rat--perhaps he was right. Well Miss Pewsey you have gained your ends and now----" "Now you leave my house," said the old maid, "yes, my house." Olivia made no reply but placed her hand within her husband's arm. Rupert conducted her towards the door. "Mrs. Ainsleigh's effects will be sent for," said he looking at Miss Pewsey, "we will not trouble you further." "But the law will trouble _you_," cried Miss Pewsey, "you----" Rupert turned and looked at her. The venomous words died on her lips. She dropped into her chair, while Ainsleigh and the disinherited Olivia left Ivy Lodge to the woman, who had schemed for it in so base a way. CHAPTER XIV A Mysterious Letter If Miss Wharf's tragic death made a great sensation in Marport, the announcement that Miss Rayner was married secretly to Ainsleigh of Royabay made a still greater one. Some people thought Olivia had behaved badly to her aunt, and these were confirmed in their belief, by the story told by Miss Pewsey. But others considered the marriage to be quite romantic, and, knowing how Miss Wharf had tried to make her niece marry Clarence, were pleased that the girl had thus circumvented the schemes of the buccaneer. But, whether the critics were hostile or favourable, they were all equally anxious to call at Royabay and see its new mistress. Mrs. Ainsleigh received them quietly, and with a dignity which compelled all to refrain from making remarks, unpleasant or otherwise. She settled down rapidly to her new position, and after a time, everyone was quite on her side. Certainly, a few ill-disposed people agreed with Miss Pewsey, who could not say anything sufficiently bad about Mrs. Ainsleigh: but on the whole, people were anxious to welcome the new mistress of the great place of Marport. Rupert and Olivia appeared to be very happy, and after all--as someone said, "the marriage was their own business." A month after the installation of Olivia at Royabay, her husband received a visitor in the person of Dr. Forge. That melancholy man made his appearance one afternoon, when the young couple were in the garden, and therefore, they could not refuse to see him. Olivia, had she been able, would certainly have declined the visit, as she was aware that Forge intended to marry Miss Pewsey next month. As it was, she had to be polite and she was coldly so. Rupert also, was not very genial. From what John Petley had said, and from what Tung-yu had hinted, he began to think that Forge was not the friend he pretended to be, and consequently the young man was on his guard. Dr. Forge saw this, and seized the opportunity when Olivia went within,--which she did as soon as politeness permitted,--to speak to his quondam ward. "We don't appear to be friends," said the doctor. "I don't see how you can expect it," replied Rupert coldly, "you marry Miss Pewsey next month, and she has been, and is, Olivia's bitter enemy." "I am aware that my future wife is prejudiced," said he deliberately, "but I assure you Rupert, she did not scheme for that money." Ainsleigh scoffed. "Why she spied on Olivia and told Miss Wharf, what we would rather had been kept silent." "I don't think you acted quite fairly towards Miss Wharf." "That is my business. I don't intend to defend myself," was the young man's reply, "did you come to discuss this matter?" "No. I came to ask how this matter would effect your future." "In what way?" "In the way you stand with your creditors." Rupert did not reply immediately. The two were walking on the lawn, but Rupert entered the door of the Abbey and strolled round the ruins with Forge by his side. He mistrusted the man intensely. "I should like to know if you are my friend?" he asked, giving utterance to this mistrust. "Surely I am," was the quiet reply, "why should you think me to be otherwise. Because I marry Miss Pewsey?" "No. You can marry whom you choose. I have nothing to do with that. Dr. Forge, But when you were my guardian, why did you not tell me that the property was so encumbered?" "I wanted your boyhood to be unclouded. And also," he added, seeing Rupert make a gesture of contempt, "I thought you might get money from China." Rupert started. "What do you mean by that?" "Well," said Forge deliberately and looking on the ground, "you know that your father and I invested in a gold mine on the Hwei River? Well we worked it for a long time until your father died of dysentery--" "Are you sure he died of dysentery?" asked Ainsleigh sharply. "So far as I know he did," was Forge's patient reply, "as I told you before, I was in Pekin when he died. But if you are in doubt you should go to China and ask Lo-Keong." "What has he to do with it?" "This much," said Forge quietly, "and I am telling you, what I have kept hitherto from every living creature. Your father and I made money out of the mine--a great sum. I made the most--about ten thousand pounds, but your father made at least eight thousand." "And where is that money?" asked Rupert anxiously. "Lo-Keong has it. Yes! I went to Pekin to get a concession with regard to buying or leasing more land. I left your father with Lo-Keong. He was at that time a kind of foreman. But also, he was in the confidence of the rebellious Boxer leaders. These threatened to undermine the power of the Dowager Empress, who was not then, so strong as she is now. As a matter of fact, Lo-Keong himself was a leader of the Boxers. He came to us in disguise, and worked up until he became our foreman; but he did this, because he heard that the mine was paying, and wanted money--" "Your money?" asked Ainsleigh deeply interested. "Yes, and the money belonging to your father--in all, eighteen thousand pounds. When I was at Pekin, your father, who did not understand the Chinese so well as I did, managed to make trouble--" "In what way?" "He interfered with the religion of the coolies in some way--a most disastrous thing to do. Lo-Keong took advantage of the riot and robbed your father of the eighteen thousand pounds." "And killed my father." "Ah," said Forge quietly, "I really can't say that. It was it reported to me at Pekin that Markham had died of dysentery. He was buried near the mine. I was advised not to go back, as the Chinese were enraged against the foreign devils. Lo-Keong took the money and returned to his Boxers, where, with the money, he attained to even greater power, than he formerly had possessed. Afterwards he deserted his party and came on the side of the Empress Dowager. She is a clever woman and was glad to get him, so he speedily rose high at court. Now, he is very powerful." "And still holds my father's money." "Precisely, and mine also. I have been to China again and again, to try and make Lo-Keong give up this money, and then, I intended to pay you eight thousand pounds. But hitherto I have failed. I am about to make a last attempt, as I sail for Canton after Christmas. I had intended to go earlier, but I must marry Miss Pewsey and leave her in charge of my house, as Mrs. Forge, before I go. So now you know Rupert why I went so frequently to China." "And what has the fan to do with all this?" "Nothing so far as I know. It is Lo-Keong's property and was a bequest which he values. I understand that there is some secret belonging to it, connected with political affairs, and which make his enemies anxious to get hold of it." "Didn't you know the secret, when you possessed the fan?" "No," said Forge viciously, "I wish I had known it. If it could have damaged Lo-Keong I certainly should have made every use of it. He keeps me out of ten thousand pounds, and it's through his influence with the Empress Dowager that I am prevented from working the mine further. It is a rich mine, and if I worked it, I could make a fortune. But Lo-Keong stopped that. I was a fool, not to use the fan and make Lo-Keong give me the mine for it." "But you _did_ give him the fan." Forge looked confused for a moment. "Yes, I did," said he after a pause, "that is, it was taken from me. I got it from Tidman in the way you know, and always expected trouble. But I expect Hwei and Tung-yu did not find out at the time, that it had come to this country, so I was left alone. Had they discovered, that I was the possessor I should have been killed--" "Or you might have got a large sum of money." "Quite so. It would have all depended if I gave the fan to Hwei or to Tung-yu. I should have preferred the latter, but of course I never knew the different days appointed by the god." "Then that business is really true." "I believe it is. But I never knew much about it, till Tung-yu told me. Then it was too late, Miss Wharf had the fan, and it was Hwei's day. He took advantage of the chance." "Do you think he was here?" "Yes. Certainly. He killed Miss Wharf." "But the verdict said that Tung-yu--" "Pooh--pooh," cried Forge snapping his long fingers. "Tung-yu would not have dared to disobey the order of Kwang-ho the god. Hwei is the culprit, but I said as little as I could about that, I don't want to be entangled in the matter again. But one of the Chinamen has the fan, and by this time it is nearly at Pekin. There doesn't seem to be much chance of our getting that money Rupert." "You did give the fan to Lo-Keong," reiterated Ainsleigh. "Well it was taken from me. I went to his palace and told him I would give him the fan in exchange for the eighteen thousand pounds. I then intended to come back and give you eight, to clear off your mortgages and resolved to live on the remaining ten which are rightfully my own. But Lo-Keong had me seized, and the fan was taken from me. He then forbade me setting foot in China again. But I am going, for all that," said Forge threateningly, "I shall go after Christmas. I am bound to get my money and yours." "You kept that fan for a long time?" "For two years only, and then, when I thought everything had blown over, I took it to Lo-Keong with what result you know. Now then, I have been plain with you Rupert. Surely you can see that I am your friend." "Tung-yu said you were not. Doctor." "Naturally," replied Forge, "he wanted to make bad blood between us, so that I should not tell you this story. How does he know--Tung-yu I mean--but what you might not go to China and complain about Lo-Keong keeping this money." "I prefer to stop here with my wife," said Ainsleigh. "But _you_ can complain." "And be hanged, or sliced, or shot, or fried. No thank you. Remember what kind of treatment Tidman met with at the hands of Hwei." "What. Was he the one-eyed Chinaman?" "Yes. He's the gentleman, and I hope he won't come your way. He is a beast. But by this time, he and Tung-yu are on their way back to their own land. And now Rupert, I'll say good-bye. As I am poor myself, lacking this ten thousand pounds, rightfully mine, which Lo-Keong detains, I can't help you. But I'll tell you what I'll do. I'll get Miss Pewsey to extend that mortgage." "No, thank you all the same," said Ainsleigh, throwing back his head. "I don't want to be indebted to your wife." "She is not my wife _yet_," said Forge significantly. "But you intend to marry her." "Yes--yes--quite so." Forge looked queerly at Rupert, as though about to say something. Then he changed his mind and walked away rapidly, without saying good-bye. Rupert returned to the house and told his wife all that had taken place. She was still doubtful of Forge's good intentions. "A decent man would not marry that wicked little woman." "Well," said Rupert doubtfully, "from the way he spoke and looked, I think Miss Pewsey marries him and not Forge, Miss Pewsey." Mrs. Ainsleigh looked up quickly. "Has she got any hold over him?" "I don't understand dear?" "The same as she had over my aunt. Rupert, that little woman looks frail, but she is strong, and has a will like iron. In spite of her looks. Aunt Sophia was wax in Miss Pewsey's hands. She exercised a kind of hypnotic power over Aunt Sophia, and that was how the will came to be made in her favour." "In that case, why not try and upset the will." "On a pretext of undue influence. It could be done certainly, but I have no facts to go upon. But it seems to me, from what you say, that Miss Pewsey has hypnotised Forge." "He's not the kind of man to be hypnotised." "Yes, he is. He smokes opium. A man who would give way to that vice, is not a strong man. But let her be and let him be also, Rupert. I don't believe about this money in China. It is no use our building on that. If the place has to be sold at the end of the year, we will take what we have left and go to Canada. So long as I have my boy I don't much care," and she wreathed her arms round his neck. "Dear Olivia, I wish I wasn't the hard-up wretch I am." "I would not have you, any other than you are. If money comes to us, it will come honestly, not through the hands of Dr. Forge or his future wife. Neither one is honest." Rupert would have argued this point, as he thought his wife was a trifle hard. But Olivia stuck to her guns, and gradually all reference to Forge and his story was dropped by tacit consent. The young couple had quite enough to do, in talking of their future, which was doubtful, to say the least of it. However Rupert had arranged with the lawyers to hold over all claims for another year. It only remained to get Miss Pewsey, who now held the fatal mortgage, to extend the time. But Olivia would not allow her husband to ask a favour of the bitter little woman as she was sure,--and rightly so,--that it would not be granted. The mortgage held by Miss Pewsey was for three thousand pounds, and the two set their wits to work, to see if they could pay this off by Christmas. Then, they would have a good few months left to arrange other matters. If possible, Olivia wished to keep Royabay, though the outlook was not cheering. Another month slipped by, but few changes took place in Marport. As it was now rather wintry, so many people did not come down to the sea-side. Rupert and Olivia lived rather a lonely life at the Abbey, but being very much in love, this did not disturb them: in fact it was rather a pleasure. Sometimes Chris Walker and his aunt called. Lady Jabe had got over her disappointment, now that Olivia was poor, and constantly abused Miss Pewsey for taking the money. She was making the unfortunate Chris pay attentions to Lotty Dean, whose father was a grocer and had ample wealth. Things were going on nicely in this quarter, and Lady Jabe was pleased. Clarence Burgh had left Marport and was now amusing himself in London. Sometimes he came down to see his aunt, who was getting ready for her bridal and still lived in Ivy Lodge. There, Forge intended to remove when married, as the house was rent free, and already he had given notice to Tidman as the Major told Rupert one evening. "And I'm glad he's going," said the Major, as he sat with his usual bottle of port before the fire, after dinner, "I couldn't stand seeing, that Pewsey cat in my house as Mrs. Doctor Forge." "I wonder why he marries her?" said Rupert who was smoking on the other side of the fire place. "Because he is frightened of her, sir. That woman for some reason makes everyone frightened of her--except me," added the Major swelling, "why even that young Burgh hardly comes to see her, though he's down here now--waiting for the wedding I suppose. It comes off next week and a nice fright that Pewsey cat will look as a bride." Rupert laughed. Olivia had left the room and retired to bed. The Major, who had been fidgeting all the evening, looked round when alone with his host. "I want to talk to you," he said. "What about? Haven't you been talking all the evening." "Not on the subject nearest to my heart," said Tidman sipping his port. "I waited till Mrs. Ainsleigh went away, as I don't want to revive unpleasant memories." "Oh," said Rupert with a shudder, "surely you are not going to talk of the murder." "No--certainly not: but I am of the thing that caused it." Rupert sat up quickly. "The fan. Why that's in China. Tung-yu took it, after he--" "Tung-yu did _not_ take it," said the Major producing a letter. "I thought he did, if you remember, for you and I saw him on the beach on that night." "Yes. He was talking to a boatman." "Arranging for his flight," said Tidman grimly, "and then he went back, as I thought, and murdered that woman. But he didn't," the Major paused to give full dramatic effect. "He thinks I did it." "Oh, rubbish," said Rupert. "If you can prove an alibi on my behalf, I can prove one on yours. We walked and talked on the beach, till nearly twelve. Then you went back to your bed, and I returned to the ball-room. Immediately afterwards the body was found. What makes Tung-yu accuse you, and why do you get a letter from China?" "It's not from China, but from London." "Is Tung-yu there?" asked Ainsleigh, quickly. "Yes. In some place in Rotherhithe. He writes from there, in this letter. Read it," and he passed it to his host. Rupert glanced over the few lines which were very neatly written on yellow paper. The letter was to the effect that if Major Tidman would bring the fan to a certain place in Rotherhithe, he would receive the money. "Humph," said Ainsleigh, handing it back, "so it seems that Tung-yu has not got the fan." "Yes, confound him, and he thinks _I_ have it, in which case he must believe that I murdered Miss Wharf." Rupert nodded. "It looks like it," said he, "what will you do?" "I don't know. I do not want another Canton adventure. I thought," here the Major hesitated, "I thought you might go." Ainsleigh did not burst out into a voluble refusal, as Tidman expected, but stared at the fire. Seeing this, Tidman urged his point. "I think if you went, you might get at the truth of the matter," he said. "If Tung-yu didn't murder Miss Wharf, who did? Will you go?" Rupert still gazed at the fire. He was thinking of the eight thousand pounds due to him, held by Lo-Keong and which, if gained, would pay off Miss Pewsey. "Yes," said he at length, "I'll go." It was a risk, as he knew, but the money was worth the risk. CHAPTER XV The Rotherhithe Den As a rule, Rupert told his wife everything, thinking there could be no happiness, unless a married couple were frank with one another. Also, he frequently went to Olivia for advice, believing in the keen feminine instinct, which usually sees what is hidden from the denser masculine understanding. But on this occasion, he refrained from revealing the object of his visit to London, as he knew she would be feverishly anxious, all the time he was absent. It was just possible that Hwei might be at Rotherhithe instead of Tung-yu, and then Rupert might meet with a death similar to that of Miss Wharf. Certainly he had not the fan, and never did possess it; but how was he to convince a distrustful Asiatic of that. Therefore, Rupert went to town one afternoon by the nine o'clock evening train from Marport, and Olivia thought, he was merely going to see his lawyer on business connected with Miss Pewsey's mortgage. Her husband was to return the next day in time for luncheon, and, as he had often run up to town before, Olivia had no misgivings. Had she been aware of the danger he was going into, she assuredly would not have let him go. Mrs. Ainsleigh had led an unhappy life, and now that things were brighter, she certainly did not wish to see her days clouded, by the loss of the husband whom she loved so dearly. As what money there was, went to keep up Royabay, its master was too poor to travel first class. But he was lucky enough to find a third class smoking carriage empty, and sat down very content. Owing to the nature of his errand, he wished to be alone, to think out his mode of procedure. Tung-yu would not be an easy person to deal with, still less would Hwei, should he happen to be on the spot, and Ainsleigh had little knowledge of the Chinese character. From what Forge said, he judged it to be dangerous. There were few people travelling by the train, and Rupert quite believed that he would have the compartment to himself. But just as the train was moving off, a man dashed into the carriage and dropped breathlessly on the seat. "I guess that was a narrow squeak," he gasped. "Mr. Burgh," said Rupert, by no means pleased. "Well, I am surprised," said the buccaneer, "if it ain't Ainsleigh." "Mr. Ainsleigh," was Rupert's reply, for he disliked the man too much to tolerate this familiarity. "Oh, shucks," retorted Burgh wiping his forehead, "'tisn't any use putting on frills with me, sir. I guess I'm as good a man as you, any day." "Let us admit you are better," said Rupert coldly, "and cease conversation." But this Mr. Burgh was not inclined to do. "I reckon this old tram won't stop at any station for half an hour," said he pulling out a long black cigar, "so I don't see why we should sit like dummies for thirty minutes. Come along, let's yarn. You think I'm a wrong un'. Well, I guess I'm no holy Bill if that's what you mean. But I surmise that I'm friendly enough with you, Ainsleigh." "Our last interview was not of a friendly character." "You bet. You laid me out proper, and gave it to me pretty free. I respect a man who knocks me down. I thought you'd curl up when faced, Ainsleigh, but I see you're a fighter. That being so, why I climb down. Not that I'm a coward--oh, no--not by a long chalk: but I know how to size up things." "And how do you size them up in this case?" "Well," said Clarence lighting up, "I guess you've got the bulge on me. I was sweet on your wife, but you aimed a bulls-eye, and I got left. That being so, I conclude to leave other man's goods alone." "Meaning Mrs. Ainsleigh," said Rupert dryly, "thank you." "Oh, no thanks. I've got enough sins already without putting a gilded roof on my iniquities. See here," Clarence leaned forward and looked agreeable, though his wicked black eyes snapped fire, "why shouldn't you and I be friends?" Rupert did not reply at once. He did not like Burgh, who was an aggressive bully of the Far West. All the same, something might be learned from Burgh, relative to the murder, and to the Chinaman. He knew Hwei and knew something of the fan, so Rupert resolved to be on reasonably friendly terms with the buccaneer in the hope of learning something likely to be of use. If Mr. Burgh had a lantern, there was no reason why Ainsleigh should not use the light to illuminate his somewhat dark path. Therefore, when Rupert did speak, it was to express a wish to be friendly. Yet, strange to say, as soon as he showed a disposition to come forward, Clarence, the wary, showed an equal disposition to retire. "Ho," said the buccaneer, "I guess you want my help, or you wouldn't be so friendly all at once." "I am friendly by your own desire," said Ainsleigh dryly, "if you like, we need not talk, but can part as enemies." "No," said Burgh throwing himself indolently back on the cushions, "fact is, I need you and you need me." "How do I need you?" asked Rupert sharply. "Well," drawled Clarence, eying the clear-cut face of his late enemy, "it's just this way. Aunt Lavinia's an old cat. She was all square with me, so long as she thought I'd hitch up long-side Miss Rayner----" "Mrs. Ainsleigh if you please, and leave out her name." "Right oh. I'll use it only once. Aunty thought I'd annex the cash, and Mrs. Ainsleigh, and that she would live on the pair of us. But as things are Aunty has the cash and you've got the lady, so I am left--yes sir. I guess I've been bested by Aunty, Well sir, I calculate I'm not a millionaire, and I want cash to start out on the long trail. Aunty won't part, shabby old puss that she is; but I reckon if you'll help me, I'll rake in the dollars slick." "Why should I help you?" "To get square about that murder." Rupert drew back, "Do you know?----" "Oh I know nothing for certain, or I shouldn't take you into partnership, but I believe I can spot the person." "Surely you don't think Miss Pewsey----" "Oh no. She wouldn't harm anyone, unless she was on the right side. She's a cat, but is clever enough to keep herself from being lynched. 'Sides, she was comfortable enough with old Wharf, and wouldn't have sent her to camp out in the New Jerusalem, by strangling. But Aunty's going to hitch up long-side old Forge----" "And he?" asked Rupert secretly excited, but looking calm enough. "Go slow. I don't know anything for certain, but I guess Forge had a finger in the pie. He wanted the fan you know." "Nonsense! He had the fan for two years and made no use of it." "I reckon not. He didn't know its secret--and the secret's worth money I judge." "Do you know the secret?" "No. If I'd known I shouldn't have passed the article along to old Wharf. But I'm hunting for the secret, and when I find it out, I'll shake old Forge's life out for that fan." "But Tung-yu has the fan?" "Ho!" snorted the buccaneer, "and Tung-yu's gone to China with Hwei and the fan. Shucks! They gassed that at the inquest, but the poppy-cock don't go down along o' me. No Sir. I guess old Forge has the article. Now you sail in with me, and find out." "How can I?" "Well," said the buccaneer reflectively, "your father was a friend of the doctor's and he's chums with you. Just you get him to be confidential like, and then----" "Forge is the last man to be confidential with anyone," said Rupert coldly, "and if this be your scheme I can't help you. There is not a shred of evidence to prove that Forge killed Miss Wharf." "No. That's a frozen fact; but I guess I'm going to straighten out Forge to pay out Aunty. Then both will have to part with cash for my going on the long trail. I'm in the dark now, but later----" An end was put to Mr. Burgh's chatter by the stoppage of the train at a station, and by the entrance of a joyful party of father, mother and three children. These last returning from a happy day in the country made themselves agreeable by crying. Clarence closed his mouth, and only bent forward to say one last word to Rupert, "I reckon we'll talk of this to-morrow when I get back to Marport," said he, "I'm putting up at the Bristol, and aunty's footing the bill." Ainsleigh nodded and buried himself in his own thoughts. He did not see how Clarence could bring the crime home to Dr. Forge, but the buccaneer evidently had his suspicions. Rupert resolved to keep in with Burgh on the chance that something might come of the matter. He saw well enough that Clarence, in desperate want of money, would do all in his power to prove Forge guilty and would then blackmail him and Miss Pewsey, or, as she would then be, Mrs. Forge. This last design which Rupert suspected Burgh entertained, he resolved should not be put into practice: but if Forge was guilty, he would be arrested and tried. Therefore when Clarence parted with Ainsleigh at the Liverpool street station, the latter was moderately friendly. "'Night," said the buccaneer wringing Ainsleigh's hand. "See you to-morrow at Marport. Keep it dark," and he winked and disappeared. Ainsleigh moved towards the barrier to give up his ticket. As he did so he was roughly jostled, but could not see the person who thus banged against him. He left the station however, with the feeling that he was being followed, and kept looking back to see if, amongst the crowd, there was any special person at his heels. But he could see no one with his eyes on him. Yet the feeling continued even when he got into the underground train, which was to take him to Rotherhithe. The young man had put on a shabby suit of blue serge for the adventure and,--as the night was rainy,--wore a heavy overcoat, the same in fact, which he had left in the cloak-room of the Bristol hotel on that memorable occasion. The compartment was filled with a rather rough set of workmen going home, and some were the worse for liquor. However Rupert sitting quietly in his own corner was not disturbed and arrived in Rotherhithe without trouble. He was thankful for this, as he did not wish to have a row when engaged on a secret errand. It was dark and stormy when he stepped out into the street, but as the address given in the letter written to Major Tidman, was that of a narrow street close at hand--Rupert had looked it up in the Directory,--he did not take a cab. On his way along the streaming pavement he again had the sensation of being followed, and felt for the revolver, with which he had very wisely provided himself. But nothing happened, and he arrived at the mouth of the narrow street which was called Penters Alley. There were few people about, as the ragged loafers were within, not caring to face the pelting rain in their light attire. Rupert stepped cautiously down the side street, and saw in the distance a Chinese lantern, which he knew, marked the house he was to enter. This token had been set forth in the letter. Just as the young man was half way down, a dark figure, which had crept up behind him, darted forward and aimed a blow at him. Rupert dodged and tried to close: but at that moment another figure dashed between the two men and delivered a right-hander. There was a stifled cry of rage and the clash of a knife on the wet pavement. Then the first assailant cleared off, and Rupert found himself facing his rescuer. "Just in time," said Clarence Burgh. "What, you here," said Rupert surprised. "I left you at the station. "I guess that's so, but I followed you--" "And by what right--" "That's square enough," replied Burgh, "you'd agreed to work along with me on this racket." "Not altogether. I had not made up my mind." "Well I guess you'll make it up now Mr. Ainsleigh. It was a good job I came after you as I did, or this would have been into your ribs," and he held up a long knife which he had picked up. "I am much obliged," said Ainsleigh, "but--" "Well if you're obliged, let me go along with you and see you through this game. I don't know what it is, but I'm on for larks." Ainsleigh reflected, and on the impulse of the moment trusted the man. Clarence had undoubtedly saved his life, and it would be just as well to take him. Also Clarence could do no harm, as Tung-yu and Hwei would see to that. "Very good," said Ainsleigh, "come along. I'm going to where that Chinese lantern is." Clarence gave a long whistle and smote his leg, "Gad," said he between his teeth, "you're on the Chinese racket again." "Oh, behalf of Major Tidman," and Rupert rapidly gave details. Burgh whistled again, "Ho," he laughed, "so they think Tidman's the strangler. Well I guess not. Forge for my money. Let's heave ahead Ainsleigh, and see what the Chinkeys have to say." The two moved on and stopped under the lantern. A sharp knock at a closed door brought forth a Chinese boy, who was dressed--queerly enough--all in red. Rupert recalled Tidman's adventure at Canton, and did not like the look of things. But Clarence pushed past him and addressed the boy. "We've come to see Tung-yu," said he, "give this brat the letter, Ainsleigh." The boy took the letter and instead of looking at it by the light of the lantern, smelt it carefully. Then Ainsleigh remembered that it was strongly perfumed with some queer scent. Clarence cackled. "Rummy coves these Chinese beasts," said he politely. Evidently the boy was satisfied, for he threw open the door, and the two adventurers entered. They passed along a narrow corridor to a second door. On this being opened, they turned down a long passage to the right and were conducted by the red boy into a small room decorated in Chinese fashion, somewhat after the style of that in Dr. Forge's house. At the end there was a shrine with a hideous god set up therein, and before this, smoked some joss sticks giving out a strange perfume. A tasselled lantern hung from the ceiling. The chairs and table, elegant in design were of carved black wood, and the walls were hung with gaily pictured paper. The room was neat and clean, but pervaded by that strange atmosphere of the East which brings back curious memories to those who have travelled into those parts. After conducting them into this room, the red boy vanished and the men found themselves alone. "Well I reckon we've got to make ourselves comfortable," said the buccaneer sitting, "rum shanty--just like an opium den I know of, down 'Frisco way. Ho! I wonder how Tung-yu's escaped the police?" "I wonder rather who it was that tried to knife me," said Rupert sitting. Clarence looked queer. "We'll talk of that when we get through with this business. Here's some fairy." Even while he spoke a tall lean Chinaman entered noiselessly. He had a rather fierce face and one eye. Burgh started up. "Hwei," said he amazed. "I thought you had lighted out for 'Frisco." CHAPTER XVI The Fan Mystery The one-eyed Chinaman did not smile, nor did he greet Burgh in any way, friendly or otherwise. He simply looked at the two, with an impassive gaze and then glanced at a clock, the hands of which pointed to thirty minutes past eleven. What a clock should be doing in this Eastern room, the visitors could not make out. It seemed to be out of place. Yet there it was, and there was Hwei staring at it. He still preserved silence and brought his one eye from the clock to Rupert with a malevolent glare. "Major Tidman has not come," said Hwei in English, as good as that spoken by Tung-yu, but in a grating voice. "No," said Rupert who was addressed. "He received your note,--or rather Tung-yu's letter,--and asked me to come here on his behalf." "And I guess Hwei," drawled Clarence, "that I have come to see the business through." "That will not take long," said the Chinaman cheerfully, yet with an unpleasant stare, "where is the fan of the Mandarin?" "I have not got it," replied Ainsleigh shortly. "Major Tidman did not send it perhaps." "No. For the simple reason that it is not in his possession." "That," said Hwei grimly, "is a lie," "It's the truth," chipped in Burgh suddenly, "old man Tidman didn't choke that woman!" "You mean Miss Wharf." Burgh nodded. "That's so," said he in a curt way, but with a watchful eye on the one-eyed Chinaman. Hwei gnawed his long finger nails, and then slipped his hands inside his long hanging sleeves. In his dull blue clothes with the clumsy slippers, he looked taller than ever, and quite as unpleasant as at first sight. His pig-tail was coiled round his shaven head. He looked sharply at the two men with his one eye, and appeared to be thinking, "It's my day," said he at length. Ainsleigh and Burgh jumped up. "Do you intend to murder us?" asked Rupert. "If you have the fan," rejoined Hwei coldly, "it is the order of the god Kwang-ho," and he bowed reverentially to the ugly image. "What right's that second hand joss to give orders in a free country, Hwei?" asked Clarence, "and don't you think, we'll give in without laying you out." Hwei made a clicking noise with his tongue and then smote a small brass gong which hung near the door. The thunder had scarcely died away before the door opened and there appeared four or five villainous looking Chinamen with long knives. Rupert stepped back and stood against the wall, with his revolver levelled. But Clarence simply produced the knife, he had picked up on the pavement. "I guess," he said reflectively, "you tried to knife Ainsleigh outside. The knife here's the same as those things yonder," and he nodded towards the door. "Well, sail in. We're ready for the play." Hwei started at this speech, and chattered something in Chinese. At once the door closed and the three were again alone. "I never ordered anyone to be knifed outside," he said, with his one eye on Clarence, "that would be foolish. First the fan, then the death." "I was certainly attacked outside," said Rupert lowering his revolver. "Who attacked you, sir?" "I can't say. But perhaps Burgh--" "That's my business," said the cheerful Clarence who had taken his seat, and did not seem to be at all afraid of the dangerous position in which he found himself, "what we have to do, is to yarn about this fan. I saw you in 'Frisco, Hwei. I reckoned the fan was there." "We thought so, Mr. Burgh, but it came to the ears of Lo-Keong that it was in England. So then I came here." "Ah, I saw you in China also," said Clarence. "You did, and learned much about the fan--too much," growled Hwei. Rupert who was growing weary of all this hinted mystery sat down again, and threw the revolver on the table. "I wish you would make a clean breast of this," he said calmly. "I don't care about the fan, but I do want to know who killed Miss Wharf." "Major Tidman did." "No. He was with me on the beach. I went out to smoke and we strolled up and down till nearly twelve. He was with me shortly after eleven, so he could not have killed the woman." Hwei pointed a long finger at the young man. "I saw Major Tidman speaking to a boatman on the beach--the boat came from the Stormy Petrel--" "Your boat," said Burgh quickly. "No. The boat of Tung-yu. It was my day, but Tung-yu hoped to get the fan after twelve at night and then would have had the right to take it away in the boat. Major Tidman killed Miss Wharf and gave the knowledge of his crime to Tung-yu. He would not part with the fan till the money was paid. Tung-yu went away in the boat so that the police might not get him. He was wise," added Hwei with a queer smile, "as he is accused of the murder." "Which you committed." "No I did not. Had I found Miss Wharf outside I should have killed her. It was my hour, but she escaped me." "Then you were in Marport on that night?" asked Rupert. Hwei nodded. "Not at the hotel. Tung-yu went to the ball, and was to bring Miss Wharf out down the steps, so that I could kill her. I came to the steps about twelve, and while waiting on the beach I saw you sir, talking to the Major. But Tung-yu betrayed me." Hwei's face looked fiercer then ever. "He did not bring her to me in my hour, and so betrayed the trust of the god Kwang-ho. He wanted her to live, so that he might buy the fan next day." "But so long as he got the fan--" Hwei flung out a long arm. "No," said he austerely, "if Tung-yu gets the fan it goes with its secret into the hands of Mandarin Hop Sing, who is the enemy of my master." "And who is your master?" asked Clarence. "Lo-Keong. Listen." Hwei took a seat and talked, with his one eye on the visitors. "The fan is my master's, and holds a secret which means much to him. It was lost. We invoked the god Kwang-ho. By the mouth of his priest the gods said that two men should search for it. I was to search for Lo-Keong, and Tung-yu for Hop Sing the enemy of my master. Hop Sing's emissary was to buy the fan at a large price, I was to kill the person who held it. Thus, said the god, justice would be done. The person who held the fan would be rewarded for virtue or slain for evil. One day is mine and the next day is Tung-yu's. At the ball I had my hour, and had I found Miss Wharf I would have slain her for the fan. But Tung-yu betrayed me, as he wished to buy the fan next day. But the god Kwang-ho interfered, and the woman who held the fan wrongfully, met with her doom. Great is the justice of the god Kwang-ho," and he bowed again to the ugly image which was half veiled by the curling smoke. Rupert stared at the man who talked such good English, yet who used it, to utter such extraordinary things. He was not acquainted with the Chinese character, and could not understand the affair. But on reflection he concluded that the alternate killing and rewarding was adopted as giving a chance of treating the person, who secured the fan in the way he or she deserved. "I see what you mean," said he, "if the person got the fan wrongfully, it would come into your possession in your way, if rightfully, it would go to Tung-yu, therefore the holder of the fan would be rewarded according to his or her deeds." Hwei bowed. "Great is the wisdom of the god Kwang-ho," said he. "Then I guess you're wrong and the god also," said Clarence, "old Miss Wharf got the fan squarely enough from me." "She had it wrongfully," said Hwei obstinately "else she would not have been slain." "Who slew her?" asked Rupert seeing the uselessness of argument. "Major Tidman." "No. I tell you he was on the beach. Tung-yu killed her." Hwei shook his head, "Tung-yu dare not," said he, "the god would slay him if he disobeyed." "The god didn't slay him when he played low down on you in keeping Miss Wharf back from your knife," said Clarence. "Tung-yu has done penance. He has made amends. He wrote to Major Tidman telling him to come here on my night, so that he might meet with his doom." "But he hasn't come." "He is afraid." "No," said Rupert decisively, "the Major has not the fan. Who has, I know no more than I do who killed Miss Wharf." Hwei wavered, and his keen face grew troubled. The persistence of Rupert was having its effect. "Are you sure?" "Quite sure," said Ainsleigh promptly. "Will you swear this before the god Kwang-ho." "Certainly--but remember I am a Christian." Hwei went to the shrine and brought forth a joss stick. "The god Kwang-ho is all powerful," said he solemnly, "if you lie, he will not spare you. Burn this joss before him and swear." "No," said Rupert drawing back. "I am a Christian." Hwei's eye flashed with fury. "You are lying," said he, "you will never leave this place alive." "Oh I guess so," said Clarence easily, "neither I nor Ainsleigh has the fan, and you can't kill either of us unless the god grows angry. You've got to climb down before him." "That is true," said Hwei dropping the joss-stick, and sat in his chair with a puzzled face. He then pointed to the clock, the long hand of which was drawing to twelve. "When that strikes, my hour is over," he said, "but I may kill you before then." "You've got ten minutes to do it in," said Burgh cheerfully, "and Ainsleigh and I intend to fight for it. You'll be hanged too." "No," said Hwei. "I'll be on my way to China with the fan. I have a boat waiting near, to take me to a special steamer. I intended to kill Major Tidman, take the fan and go. Then all the police in the country would not have caught me." "And your nice little plan has been defeated by the Major not coming up," said Rupert calmly, "just as well he didn't. And I have not got the fan." "Who has--who has," said Hwei biting his nails, and evidently quite at a loss. "I made sure--" he looked at Clarence. "Oh it wasn't me," said that gentleman promptly, "but I may know who killed the old woman and has the fan." Hwei flung himself forward. "Tell--tell--tell," he grasped, and he laid his long fingers on Burgh's throat. The young man threw him over with a great effort and slipped back to the wall, where he stood beside Rupert. The two had out their revolvers. "You wait," said Clarence in a breathless voice, for the struggle though brief had been violent, "tell me the secret of the fan, and I'll give you the name of the person who has it." "What," cried Hwei furiously, "betray my master, you foreign devil. I will kill you first." "You've just got five minutes to do it in," cried Burgh jeeringly. The Chinaman put his fingers to his lips and blew a shrill whistle. In a moment the room was filled with Chinamen, chattering and screaming like so many infuriated parrots. Hwei threw himself on the young men. "Die--Die--" he said thickly. "Fire--fire," cried Clarence, kicking Hwei back. For the next few minutes Rupert had no very clear idea of what was happening. He fired into the mass of Chinamen pushing forward, and heard a cry as a man dropped. The others fell over him, and in the struggle upset the shrine. The ugly joss rolled on to the floor and caught fire. There were shrill screams from the Chinese, who began to jab with their knives. Clarence was rolling on the floor in close grips with Hwei, and the draperies of the joss flared away in a brilliant manner. It seemed as though the two rash men would be either burnt or stabbed, and the end was coming rapidly. All at once the silvery chime of the clock sounded and then came the rapid striking of the hour. The door opened and the boy in red, appeared. He said something in a screaming voice, and then, almost as by magic, the room emptied. The rolling mass of Chinamen had extinguished the flaming joss, and Hwei, suddenly disengaging himself from the buccaneer, darted through the door. The boy followed with the rest of the assailants, and when Rupert and Burgh got their breath they found themselves facing the still smoking joss, with Tung-yu blandly smiling at them. "Ho," said Clarence rising and shaking himself. "I guess the row's over. Hurt Ainsleigh?" "Got a flesh wound," said Rupert, winding his handkerchief round his left arm, "and you?" "I'm as right as a pie. So here's Tung-yu. Your hour I guess." The Chinaman bowed, and picking up the god restored him to his shrine, which was considerably damaged. "It is lucky the red boy cried that Hwei's hour was over," he said coolly, "or you would both have been killed." "You wouldn't have got the fan though," said Rupert throwing himself down on his seat, "but you don't intend to kill us I suppose." "No. The god Kwang-ho is merciful now. I make you rich." "Humph," said Burgh crossly, "I wish I had that fan with me." "You have, or Mr. Ainsleigh here, has it," said Tung-yu, "I will give you five thousand for the fan." "I haven't got it." "Think--ten thousand." "Great Scot!" cried Clarence avariciously, "wish I could trade." "Fifteen thousand," said Tung-yu his eyes glittering, "come gentlemen it's better to be rich than dead. For the next twenty-four hours I can give you money. Then comes Hewi's hour and he will kill you." "Not much," said Burgh, "I'm going to cut." "You shall be kept here, till you give up the fan." Rupert shrugged his shoulders. "You won't believe," he said, "why not search us. Then you can see we have not the fan. Do you believe that Major Tidman has it?" "Yes. He gave it to you. He killed--" "He did not. Can you swear that he did?" "No. But I thought--" "Oh shucks," said Clarence shoving himself forward, "see here Mr. Tung-yu. I'm sick of this business. We haven't got that durned fan. But I can tell you who has." "Tell then and I give you a thousand pounds." "Not good enough," said Burgh coolly, "see here, you let us go free and tell us the fan's secret, and I'll tell you." "Yes, and get the fan, and learn the secret," cried Tung-yu excited, "but you cannot make use of the secret." "Don't want to. And as to the fan, you can get it from the person I tell you of. Then you can fork out fifteen thousand." The Chinaman deliberated. "We have been wrong about Major Tidman, I think," said he politely. "It seems someone else has it. I suppose----" "I didn't kill the old girl myself if that's what you mean." "Quite so," said Tung-yu, after another pause. "Well, as you can't make any use of the secret I'll tell you of it. Then you can go free, after you have told me who killed Miss Wharf." "Eight oh," said Clarence, and Rupert listened breathlessly. "The fan," said Tung-yu, "is jade on one side, and enamel on the other. The enamelled side is painted with a picture invisibly. To bring out the picture, this fan has to be waved in certain smoke--" "What sort of smoke?" "I won't tell you that," said Tung-yu politely, "I have told enough." "Well, then," said Rupert, "when the picture is visible what happens?" "It will show a hiding place which contains certain things we want to get, in order to ruin Lo-Keong with the Empress." "Oh, I see, a plan of a secret hiding-place." "Now you know," said Tung-yu to Clarence, "tell me----" "Not till I know of the smoke." "I refuse. But I give you fifteen thousand to get that fan. One thousand now if you tell me who killed the woman and who has it." "Good," said Clarence, "I'll trade. Dr. Forge strangled Miss Wharf." "Ah," said Tung-yu leaping up, "he has the fan. Thanks Kwang-ho," and he bowed to the half-destroyed image. CHAPTER XVII A Disappearance When Rupert returned to Marport next day, Burgh accompanied him. The young squire of Royabay wished to give information to the police regarding the guilt of Forge. But Clarence persuaded him against doing so. "You'll only get me into a row," said he, in his candid way. "You see I told a lie." "You tell so many lies," said Rupert sharply, "I don't know but what I ought to give you in charge." "I guess not, seeing I saved your life last night." "No. You're right there Burgh. But have you really anything to do with this murder?" "No, 'cept as how I told old Tung-yu last night." "Just repeat what you said. I was so faint with the loss of blood that I didn't gather half you said." Burgh nodded. "You were pretty sick. I'd to help you back to civilization, same as if you were drunk. If I hadn't, you'd have been robbed and killed down that Bowery gangway." Ainsleigh could not, but acknowledge that Clarence had acted very well. He had saved him from the man who attacked him in the street, and also, it was owing to him that the two had escaped from the gang of Hwei. Finally Burgh had taken Rupert back to the Guelph Hotel in Jermyn Street, when he was rather shaky from the wound. It was much better this morning, but Ainsleigh looked pale, and not at all himself. Still he did not grudge the trifling wound--it was merely a scratch although it had bled freely,--as the knowledge he had acquired, was well worth the trouble. They had left the den in Penters Alley, some time after midnight, and had returned safely to the West, where Rupert had acted as host to Burgh. That was Clarence all over. Whenever he did anyone a service, he always took it out of him in some way, and but, for the dangerous position in which he found himself would have quartered his carcase on Rupert for an indefinite period. "But there ain't no denying that I'm in a fix," said Burgh, as the train drew near Marport. "That is, if you split Ainsleigh." "No, I won't split on you. But if Forge is guilty he must be arrested," said Rupert decisively. "But I don't know if he strangled the old girl after all." "You said he did, last night." "Well I wanted to know the secret of that fan." Rupert shrugged his shoulders. "You know that the fan when waved in a certain smoke--of which by the way you learned nothing--reveals a hiding place which contains certain things Tung-yu wants--" "To ruin Lo-Keong," said Burgh quickly. "So I guess if I can pick up that fan from old Forge, I'll yank in the dollars." "Aren't you satisfied with what you have." "This thousand. Oh that's all right. I cashed the cheque before I joined you at the station--got it in gold so I can clear out when it suits me. It's always as well to be ready to git." "I suppose," said Ainsleigh dryly, "in your varied career, you have had frequent occasions to 'git' as you call it." "You bet. But git's slang American and good Turkish lingo, so you've no need to sneer old man. 'Say, about Forge. What's to be done?" "I'll communicate with Rodgers and tell him what you say. If the doctor is guilty he must suffer." "My eye," said Clarence reflectively, "won't aunty be mad. Well I guess this will square us: she won't play low down on me again." "Burgh, you're a blackguard." "I am, that's a fact," said the buccaneer in no wise disturbed. "But don't you say that in public or the fur'll fly." "Pooh. You know I'm equal to you. But this story--" "The one I told Tung-yu last night," grinned Burgh, "I'll reel it out now, and you can sort it out as you choose. I believe Forge to be the scragger of the old girl, because he had that tie of yours." "How did he get the tie?" "I gave it to him," confessed Clarence candidly. "Yes--I remember you said so last night. But I forget how you explained the getting of it." "Huh," drawled Burgh folding his arms. "You might call it stealing old pard. Y'see Miss Pewsey--my old aunty that is--saw Olivia--" "Mrs. Ainsleigh, hang you." "Right oh," continued Burgh imperturbably. "Well, aunty saw Mrs. Ainsleigh pass the tie to you, and when you went to the cloak-room she told me. I was real mad not knowing how things were, as I wanted that tie for myself. I'd no notion of your getting things made by the young lady I was sweet on. "I wish you would leave out my wife's name," said Rupert angrily, and wincing with pain, for his wound hurt him not a little. "I'll try: don't get your hair off. Well I cut along to the card room--no t'wasn't the card room--the cloak-room, and saw you standing by your coat, just hanging it up again." "And you saw me put the tie in the pocket." "I guess not: but I fancied you might have done so. Then I waited outside while you yarned with the Chinese cove and Tidman. After that I cut in and you know the rest." "Up to the time I knocked you down. Well?" "Smashing blow," said Burgh coolly, "you can use your hands pretty well I reckon--but a six shooter's more in my line. Well, when you cut, I lay down and saw stars for a time. Then I thought I'd pay you out by annexing the tie." "You didn't know it was there?" "Thought it might be," rejoined Burgh coolly, "anyhow there was no harm in trying. I found the tie, and went out with it, thinking you be pretty sick when you found it gone. I went into the card-room where old Forge was cheating I guess, and had a yarn along o'him. He just roared when I showed him the tie, for he hates you like pie." "What's that?" asked Rupert sharply, "you are mistaken." "I guess not. That old man would have been glad to see you scragged, Mr. Ainsleigh. He asked me to let him have the tie--" "What for?" Burgh shrugged his shoulders. "He didn't say. But I let him have it anyhow. I wasn't in a position to refuse. Y'see Ainsleigh I'm not a holy Bill and--" "And Forge knows a few of your escapades likely to land you in--" "Y'needn't say the word," interrupted Burgh in his turn, "t'isn't a pretty one. But I guess Forge could make things hot for me if he liked, so that was why I lay low when I saw the tie round the old girl's throat. I guessed then. Forge had scragged her and boned the fan. I asked him about it, and he lied like billeo. Said he'd lost the tie, and never touched the old 'un. Then he said if I made any fuss, he'd tell the police about--" "About what?" asked Ainsleigh, seeing the man hesitate. "Huh," replied Burgh, uncomfortably, "I guess that's my business. I told you I wasn't a saint." "I suspect you're a thorough paced gaol-bird." "No, I ain't been in quod. Where I gavorted round, in the Naked Lands, they don't shove a man in chokey for every trifle." "Such as murder. Eh?" "I haven't murdered anyone yet," confessed Clarence, easily, "but one never knows. But I told about Forge last night, as I wanted to get this thousand. Now I'll try for the fan, and see if I can't get the fifteen thousand to come my way. If Forge cuts up rough, I'll light out with what I have"--he slapped his pockets--"for Callao," and he began to sing the old song:-- "On no occasion, is extradition, Allowed in Callao." "And I know a daisy of a girl out there," said the scamp, winking. Ainsleigh was too disgusted to speak. He felt that as he was as big a ruffian as Burgh, to tolerate this conversation, and he was relieved when the train steamed into Marport station. As soon as it stopped he jumped out, and nodding to his companion, he was about to take his leave, when Clarence stopped him. "Say. You won't round on Forge till I get this fan business settled." "I intend to write to Rodgers to-day," said Ainsleigh, tartly, "bad as your aunt is, she shan't marry that scoundrel if I can help it." "But I only know Forge got the scarf as I told you. He mightn't have scragged her y'know. He says he didn't." "And relied on what he knows of you to keep things quiet. No, Mr. Burgh, I intend to have the man arrested," and Rupert turned away, while Clarence, apparently not at all disturbed, went away whistling his Callao ditty. Rupert drove to Royabay and was welcomed with joy by his wife. She was much alarmed when she saw his condition, and was very angry when he told of his danger. She made him lie down, and bathed the wound, of which Rupert made light. "It's nothing, dear," he said. "It might be dangerous. There might have been poison on that knife, Rupert. You know what the Chinese are." "No, Olivia, I certainly don't. All this business of the fan and the god Kwang-ho is most ridiculous." "Tell me all about it," said Olivia, when she had placed a tray, with tea and toast, before him. "I shall do so at once, as I want your advice," and Rupert related all that had occurred from the time of his meeting with Clarence Burgh in the train on the previous night. Olivia listened in silence. "Well," asked Rupert, drinking his tea, "what do you think?" "I think Mr. Burgh is a scoundrel." "Anyone can see that!" "And worthy of his aunt." "Perhaps. She's a bad one that Miss Pewsey, but she may not know what a rascal she has for a relative. And at all events, I can't let her marry Forge. Do you believe he is guilty?" "He might be," said Olivia cautiously, "but I would much rather believe that Burgh gave the tie to his aunt and that she strangled aunt Sophia." Rupert laughed. "What a vindictive person you are dearest," said he. "Miss Pewsey is bad but not so bad as that." "I'd credit her with anything," said Olivia, who was truly feminine in her detestation of Miss Pewsey. "She has insulted me for years, and put aunt Sophia against me, and caused me to lose the money." "Well--well," said Rupert soothingly, "let us think the best of her--she has her good points. "Where are they--what are they? She is a--no," Olivia checked herself and looked penitent, "I really must not give way to such unworthy feelings. I'll try and think the best of her, and I agree with you darling, that she must not marry Dr. Forge." "Do you think I should write to Rodgers?" "Certainly. The marriage must be stopped. Write to-day." But Rupert did not write that day, for the simple reason that the wound on his arm grew very painful, and he became delirious. The doctor who was called in, said that there was poison in the blood and then Olivia was alarmed lest Rupert should lose his arm, and perhaps his life. However, the doctor was young and clever and by careful treatment he drew out the poison and in a few days, the young man's arm had resumed its normal condition, and his brain again became clear. Then he wrote a letter to Rodgers asking him to come down to Royabay on a matter connected with the murder of his wife's aunt. After the letter had been posted, Rupert went out for a walk with his wife, and strolled round the grounds. As the two crossed the lawn admiring the beauty of the day which was bright and clear and slightly frosty, Mrs. Petley appeared, coming up the avenue. She made straight for the young couple. "Please Master Rupert, that gent's called again." "What, Mr. Burgh?" said Olivia, and then in answer to her husband's enquiring look she explained. "He has called for the last three days, dear, since you were ill. I never told you, as I thought it might worry you." "And he just called to ask how you were. Master Rupert," said the old housekeeper, "and never come nearer than the lodge, as old Payne can testify. I told him you were out walking and he asked if he could come in and see you." "Certainly," said Rupert--then, when Mrs. Petley hurried away, he turned to Olivia. "Burgh simply wants to find out if I have communicated with Rodgers. He's frightened for his own skin." Shortly Mrs. Petley returned with the information that Mr. Burgh was nowhere to be seen. This did not trouble Rupert who thought that the buccaneer (always of an impatient disposition) might have grown tired of waiting. With Olivia, he strolled round the grounds for thirty minutes and at length entered the ruins of the Abbey. Here the first thing they saw, was Mr. Clarence Burgh seated on a stone under the copper beech. He jumped up and came forward, with his usual grace and invariable impudence. "Glad to see you out again, Ainsleigh," said he taking off his hat, "and you look well, Mrs. Ainsleigh--just like a picture." "Thank you," replied Olivia, concealing her dislike with difficulty, "you wish to see my husband I presume." "Just for two shakes," said Clarence easily, "say old man, what about Forge. Are y' going to' round on him?" Rupert nodded, "I have written to Rodgers to-day. But I'll give him this chance of escape--warn him if you like." "Not me," said Burgh coldly, "every man for his own durned skin--begging your pardon Mrs. Ainsleigh. I saw him while you were trying for Kingdom Come, and told him that he'd the fan." "What did he say?" "Gave me the lie. Swore he'd been in the card-room between eleven and twelve, and never saw the old girl. Said he'd had enough of the fan, as it had nearly caused his death. Then he said he'd split on me if I gave him away." "But you told him, you did confess to the Chinaman." "Oh that's all right. Forge don't care a red cent for their telling the police. They won't engineer the biznai into the courts. So long as they get the fan, they don't mind. Forge knows they won't make the matter public, but now he's in mortal fear, lest they should kill him." "Thinking he's got the fan." "You bet--on my evidence. Well," said Burgh calmly and with a twinkle in his evil eyes. "I reckon old man Forge is in an almighty fix. He's in danger of being knifed by Hwei--thanks to me, and of being hanged for killing the old girl--thanks to you." Olivia's face expressed her disgust. "If you have heard all you wish to hear, we'll go away," she said to her husband. "Right oh," said Burgh. "Don't mind me. Pretty place y'have here," he added looking round the beautiful cloisters, "that's the place where they lynched the old monk I reckon. I've heard that silly rhyme of yours, Ainsleigh. I guess you've fulfilled one part." "How so?" asked Rupert stiffly. "About the marriage y'know. A poor Ainsleigh has wedded a poor wife. So that's all right. Now I--" "I must be going," interrupted Ainsleigh annoyed by the man's glib talk, "have you anything else to say?" "Only this. Forge is going to hitch long-side Aunt Lavinia to-morrow, and if you run him in, she'll get left." "All the better for her," said Ainsleigh calmly, "he's a bad lot." "That's so. Much worse than you think. He was the man who tried to stab you in Penter's Alley." "No." "He was though. I saw his face under the lamp, as he let fly. Then he cut and--you know the rest. But I'm off. My eye," Clarence chuckled, "what a shine there'll be to-morrow, when Aunty gets left." Burgh strolled away whistling, and Olivia expressed her disgust at his free and easy manners. Rupert, reflecting on what Clarence had told him of Forge's assault, resolved to be a fair and open enemy. He decided to call on Forge and tell him that he had written to Rodgers. Also, he desired to ask why he attempted the second crime. Olivia approved, so Rupert went early next day to Tidman's Avenue. The door was opened by Mrs. Bressy who was wiping her mouth as though she had just been at the bottle, which was probably the case. In reply to Rupert's enquiry for her master, she told him that Dr. Forge had gone. "He went to Londing, sir--larst night," said Mrs. Bressy. "Did he leave any address?" "No, Mr. Ainsleigh, he did not." The inference was easy. Forge had bolted. CHAPTER XVII A Surprise Rupert was much disappointed that Forge had not been arrested. Apart from the fact that he thought the old scoundrel should suffer for his dastardly crime in killing an inoffensive woman, he wished to learn what Forge could reveal of his father's death. The explanation already given, did not satisfy him, and he suspected that the doctor knew more than he chose to admit. But under pressure, and standing in danger of his life, he might be induced to be more explicit. But, as the man, apparently warned by Clarence, had disappeared, there was no more to be said. And Forge had taken a large trunk, and all his loose cash, so there was no doubt that he intended to keep away from Marport. Ainsleigh, much disgusted, went to seek Clarence Burgh at the Bristol Hotel, but learned, that he also, had gone away. Much perplexed the young man sought out Major Tidman, and laid the case before him. The Major was much astonished at the recital, and very angry to learn that Hwei and Tung-yu suspected him of the murder. "But I guessed they did, from the fact of that letter asking after the fan," said Tidman, pacing his room, much agitated. "I hope Ainsleigh, they don't think I have it now, or my life will not be worth a moment's purchase." "No. You needn't worry. Burgh has fully convinced them, that Forge has the fan." "Then they'll make for him." "No doubt, and perhaps that is why Forge cleared out. But I don't understand why our friend Burgh should make himself scarce." "I do," said Tidman sitting down and wiping his bald forehead, "he isn't a man with a clean past, and Forge knows about it. It's just on the cards that, to revenge himself on Burgh for having told Hwei about the fan. Forge has written to the police giving an account of Master Clarence's delinquency." "But, on the other hand, if Burgh warned Forge that I had written to Rodgers, the doctor might forgive him." "Not he. Forge is a bitter hater, and after all, Clarence would only be trying to right, what he had put wrong. If he'd held his tongue about the fan and the murder, there would be no need for Forge to cut. As it is, I believe the doctor will make it hot for our mutual friend." "When did you see Burgh last?" "At dinner last night. He said nothing about going away, and I quite believed he would stop on. He's in good quarters here and Miss Pewsey is paying the bill. But he took a small bag with him, saying he was going up town for a few days, and left by the nine evening train." "Ah! He may come back after all." "He may: but I doubt it. He doesn't want to face an inquiry. You see he gave the tie to Forge and said nothing about it at the inquest, so that makes him an accessory after the fact." "But Burgh didn't know Forge's game." "No. All the same he should have spoken out at the inquest. Well, and what is to be done now?" "Nothing. I'm sick of the whole business. But Forge told me that this Mandarin, Lo-Keong, holds eight thousand pounds belonging to my father. I intend to write for it." Tidman looked doubtful. "I don't think you'll get it," said he, "unless you produce the fan." "Oh! I expect Forge has taken that away with him." "Well then, Tung-yu and Hwei will be on his track, and I shouldn't give much for his life." "Wait a bit. He may get the money from Tung-yu." "If he chances on Tung-yu's day. Queer start that," added the Major musingly, "the red boy appeared when I just had my big toe cut off and saved my life. It happened, much the same with you, and Hwei lost his power, as he was getting ready to kill you. I wonder these two scoundrels obey the god so slavishly." "Oh, they are both afraid of the god," said Rupert, rising to take his leave, "but I must get home. There's nothing more to be discussed." "Nothing," replied the Major chuckling, "unless it is about that old cat's disappointment. I'll go up to St. Peter's church and see how she takes it." "Of course," said Ainsleigh lingering at the door, "it's her wedding day. I expect she knows by this time, that Forge has cut. "I hope not," said the Major cruelly. "I wouldn't lose the fun for something." Rupert didn't agree with his callous view of the case, as Miss Pewsey was a woman after all, although a bad one; and it would be hard that she should suffer, what she would certainly regard as a public disgrace. So Rupert avoided St. Peter's Church, and went home again. Here he found Olivia with a letter. "This arrived by the early post," she explained, "but you went out so quickly, that I could not give it to you. Just look at it Rupert, such beautiful writing." "A foreigner's evidently," said her husband, looking at the really elegant calligraphy. "They take more care than we do of their pot-hook and hangers. Olivia." He started. "What's the matter?" Rupert put the envelope under her nose. "Smell it. Don't you recognise the scent." "No," said Mrs. Ainsleigh, "it's a strange scent." "Very, and was used to perfume the letter which Tung-yu sent to Major Tidman. This may have to do with the fan again." Olivia looked nervous. "I wish we could hear the last of it," she said. "It has caused enough trouble already. Open the letter, dear." Rupert did so and was more astonished than ever. "Here's an unexpected development," he remarked, passing the letter to Olivia, "Lo-Keong is in England." Mrs. Ainsleigh read the few lines which stated that the mandarin was stopping at a fashionable hotel in Northumberland Avenue, and would do himself the honour of calling on the son of his old friend in a few days. "He's come to see after the fan personally," said Olivia returning the letter. "I am glad." "So am I," said Rupert quickly. "I'll now learn the truth about my father, and see if I can't get that eight thousand pounds." "Rupert, do you think Lo-Keong killed your father?" "I can't say. Forge declared over and over again, that he died of dysentery, and that Lo-Keong seized the money for the Boxers. But I'll demand an explanation from the Mandarin." "Will he give it?" asked Mrs. Ainsleigh doubtfully. "He'll have to," replied Rupert grimly, "and he'll have to give the money back also. I don't care for Forge's cash, as a villain such as he is, doesn't deserve any reward. But I want my own eight thousand, and I'll have it." "I hope so," sighed Olivia, "we could then pay off Miss Pewsey, or rather Mrs. Forge, as she no doubt is by this time." "No. Forge has bolted." "What, on the eve of the wedding?" "Yes. He cleared out last night. Either he fears being arrested for the murder of your aunt, or he dreads lest Hwei should come down to kill him for the sake of the fan. At all events he has gone, and Miss Pewsey is no doubt waiting at the altar of St. Peter's Church, for a bridegroom who will never come. But we must attend to our own troubles, dear. I'll write to the Mandarin to-day and ask him to visit us when it suits him. Or else I can run up----" "No," interrupted Olivia in a voice of alarm. "I won't have you go away again, until this fan business is settled. I'm always afraid of your falling into the hands of these Chinamen. I shall ask Mr. Lo-Keong, to stop them searching for the fan." "He can stop Hwei," said Rupert rising, "but Tung-yu is in the employment of Hop Sing, the Mandarin's rival. Don't be afraid, my dearest, I have been protected by Providence these many days, and it is not likely that I'll come to grief. But I fear for Forge and for Burgh, who has likewise bolted. Those two will certainly get into trouble." "It is wrong to say so," said Mrs. Ainsleigh with a sigh, "but I _do_ dislike that man Burgh, and Dr. Forge also." "Leave them in God's hands, dear," replied her husband gravely, "if they have sinned, they will be punished. What we have to do, is to learn if Lo-Keong will restore this money. I'll write, asking him to come down to Royabay," and Rupert went to the library forthwith. It was an autumnal day with a promise of rain. Ragged clouds drifted across a cold blue sky, and the wind was rather high. Already many trees had shed their leaves, but the pine boughs still bore their sombre burdens. Everything looked old and miserable, and there seemed to lurk a premonition of evil in the air. At least, Olivia thought so, as she stood at the drawing-room window, looking out on to the terrace and down the avenue, which could be seen from this point of view. Rupert was in the library engaged on his letter to the Mandarin, and Olivia was half inclined to join him. She felt weary, chilly and out of spirits, and could not account for doing so. "I'm the happiest girl in the world," she assured herself, "I have married the man I love, and he adores me. He rescued me from a miserable life, and is making me immensely happy. I should certainly be in the best of spirits, yet----" She stopped short at this point and her eyes became fixed, while a colour flushed her somewhat pale cheeks. And no wonder. Up the avenue, battling against the force of the wind, came Miss Pewsey. She wore a bridal dress of white, a lace bonnet trimmed with orange blossoms, and carried a bouquet of flowers. To see this figure in such a dress walking under a sombre sky, between dripping trees, and with the winds blowing furiously against it, was a strange sight, and gave Olivia what the Scotch call "a grue." Then she became indignant. It was insolent, she thought, that this woman who had insulted her so often, who had made her life miserable, who had robbed her of her inheritance and who had tried to defame her character, should thus present herself. On the impulse of the moment and in spite of wind, and of the rain, which was beginning to fall, Mrs. Ainsleigh threw open the French window and stepped out on to the terrace. It was in her mind, to order Miss Pewsey away. She deserved little mercy at Olivia's hands. The noise made by the opening of the window made Miss Pewsey raise her head, and then she came straight across the grass. As she drew near, Olivia was struck with the tragic horror of her face. She was always old in her looks, but now she seemed at least a hundred. Her lips were white, her eyes red and with dark circles under them; a myriad wrinkles ploughed her face, and her usually bright eyes were dim and blood-shot. To see this weird face under the bridal bonnet was at once grotesque and pathetic. Without a word, Miss Pewsey climbed the steps gasping at every step, and came directly towards Olivia. She passed her and entered the room. Mrs. Ainsleigh came after in a whirlwind of passion. "What do you mean?" she demanded, "this is _my_ house." "I am aware of the fact," said Miss Pewsey dropping into a chair and shaking out her soiled and sodden bridal dress, "but it may be mine before the end of the year. But don't let us quarrel," she went on in a piteous way, "I'm in trouble." "What is it?" asked Olivia, who could guess. "Theophilus has left me. Yes! Last night he went away leaving a cold letter behind him which was to be delivered to me at the altar. And it was," wept Miss Pewsey, "that old woman Mrs. Bressy brought the note. It said that Theophilus has left me for ever. And all my friends were there, and I was awaiting the happy hour, then--then"--she broke down sobbing. Olivia was touched. Miss Pewsey had always been her enemy, yet there was something about the unhappy creature which called for sympathy. "I am sorry for your trouble," said Mrs. Ainsleigh, in a softer voice. "No," said Miss Pewsey drying her eyes with a very wet handkerchief, "you can't be, I never liked you, nor you me." "That is perfectly true, and you turned my aunt against me. All the same I _am_ sorry, and anything I can do shall be done." Miss Pewsey threw herself on her knees before her enemy, who was thus heaping coals of fire on her head. "Then ask your husband to leave my Theophilus alone," she whispered. "Clarence, who has also gone, wrote to me, and said that Mr. Ainsleigh accused Theophilus of the death of my dearest Sophia." "What," cried Olivia, "does Mr. Burgh dare. Why he accuses Dr. Forge, himself. Rupert certainly wrote to the detective Mr. Rodgers, but Mr. Burgh has to substantiate his statement." Miss Pewsey jumped up. "What," she said, much more her own evil self, "did Clarence accuse my Theophilus? It's a lie--a lie. I have kept silence too long--much too long." "About what?" "About the murder," screamed Miss Pewsey, "it was Clarence who killed my Sophia--yes--you may look and look Olivia--but it was Clarence himself. He took the tie from the coat-pocket. I told him, you had given it to him, and--" "But he gave it to Dr. Forge." "He did not. Clarence took Sophia out on to the steps--at least he appointed to meet her there, to tell her about the fan. Then he strangled her, thinking your husband would be accused. Theophilus came on Clarence when he was picking up the fan. Sophia held it in her death grip, and it was some time before he could get it loose. Theophilus came, and hearing steps, Clarence ran away down to the beach. Then he returned to the ball-room by the front of the hotel." "But the fan?" "Theophilus Forge has it," said Miss Pewsey, setting her face, "and I expect he has taken it with him." "Why didn't you tell this at the inquest." "Because I didn't. Clarence is my own sister's son. I could not see him hanged. He had to hold his tongue, although he wanted the fan back again. But I insisted that Theophilus should make the money out of it. This is Clarence's revenge. Because the fan is kept from him he threatens Theophilus; oh Olivia, _do_ ask your husband to leave the matter alone, I will give up that mortgage--" "I can do nothing," said Olivia, "it isn't in my husband's power. He has written to Rodgers--" "But he has not told him anything," said Miss Pewsey eagerly. "No. He merely asked him to call." "Then he shall see _me_, and I'll tell him of Clarence's wickedness. But the fan--the fan--we'll get the money and Theophilus will come back to be loved and respected. I don't love him, but I see we can make a lot of money together. The fan," said Miss Pewsey counting on her lean fingers, "the money from Lo-Keong--the money of Sophia and--" "Oh," cried Olivia in disgust, "go away you miserable creature, and think of the hereafter." Miss Pewsey gave a shrill laugh. "You can't help me, and your husband can't help me, so I'll go. But when I come back here, it shall be as mistress. I hate you Olivia--I have always hated you--I--I--oh you"--she could utter no more, but gasping, shook her fist and ran out of the window and down the avenue with an activity surprising in a women of her years. After dinner and while they were seated in the library, Olivia told Rupert of Miss Pewsey's visit and accusation. He declined to believe the tale. "If Burgh was guilty he wouldn't have brought an accusation against Forge," he said, "as the doctor, if this is true, knows the truth. And Forge, if innocent, would not have cleared--" While Ainsleigh was thus explaining, the door was burst open and Mrs. Petley, white as chalk, rushed in. "The ghost--the ghost," said she dropping into a chair, "the monk--in the Abbey." Anxious to learn if there was any truth in these frequent apparitions reported by Mrs. Petley, Rupert left the swooning woman to the care of his wife and departed hastily from the room. Calling old Petley, he went out of the front door across the lawn and into the cloisters. Petley, hobbled almost on his heels with a lantern. The young man stopped at the entrance to the cloisters, and listened. It was raining hard and the ground was sopping wet. But beyond the drip of the rain, and the sighing of the trees, no sound could be heard. Snatching the lantern from Petley, Rupert advanced boldly into the open, and swung the light too and fro and round about. He could see no ghost, nor any dark figure suggestive of Abbot Raoul. "Try the black square," piped the feeble voice of Petley, behind. With a shrug Rupert did so. He thought that the housekeeper was mistaken as usual, and that the ghost was the outcome of her too vivid imagination. Walking deliberately to the black square where Abbot Raoul had been burnt three hundred years before, he swung the light over its bare surface. In the centre he saw something sparkle, and stooped. Then he rose with a cry. It was a fan. Rupert picked it up, opened it, and looked at it in the lantern light. There were the four beads and half a bead and the green jade leaves. The very fan itself. CHAPTER XIX A Visitor How came the fan there--and on the accursed square of ground where no grass would grow? Rupert was not superstitious, yet his heart gave a bound, and for the moment he felt sick. This fan was the cause of much trouble in the past, it had cost one woman her life, and it might yet claim another victim. With the fan in his hand, and the yellow light of the guttering candle in the lantern gleaming on its beauty, he stood stupidly staring, unheeding the feeble piping of Petley's voice, as he peered in at the ruined archway. "What's the matter, Master Rupert?" questioned the old butler with a shiver, "have you seen _It?_" "No," said Rupert at length, and he hardly knew his own voice so heavy and thick it was, "there's nothing to be seen." A cry came from the old man. "Don't stand on that accursed ground. Master Rupert," he said, almost whimpering, "and to-night, of all times." "Why to-night," said Rupert, retreating back to the arch. "Any night," shivered Petley putting his hand on his young master's arm and drawing him out of the cloisters, "it's not a good place for an Ainsleigh to be in at night. The Abbot--" "John, I don't believe in the Abbot." "But Anne saw him--or It. She's not the one to tell a lie." "Mrs. Petley is deceived in some way." Rupert considered a moment, and thrust the fan into his pocket. In the darkness, and because he turned aside the lantern light, old Petley had not seen that anything had been picked up. "I'm going to search round," said Rupert. The butler gave a long wail as Ainsleigh broke from his grasp. "No! no!" he cried, lifting his long hands, "not at night." But Rupert, now quite himself, did not heed the superstitious cry. He disbelieved in ghosts more than ever. Some flesh and blood person had brought the fan, and recollecting Burgh's story, and what Olivia had reported of Miss Pewsey's talk that afternoon, he quite expected to find Dr. Forge lurking in the cloisters. He would search for him, and when face to face, he would demand an explanation. So Rupert swiftly and lightly, walked round, holding the light high and low in the hope of discovering some crouching form. And all the time Petley waited, trembling at the door. The rain fell softly and there was a gentle wind swinging the heavy boughs of the pines, so that a murmurous sound echoed through the cloisters like the breaking of league-long waves on a pebbly beach. For at least half an hour Rupert searched: but he could see no one: he could not even find the impression of feet, sodden as was the ground. After looking everywhere within the cloister, and in the Abbey itself, he brushed past the old butler and walked down the avenue. Here also, he was at fault as he could see no one. The gates were closed: but there was a light in the small house near at hand. Ainsleigh knocked at the door, and shortly old Payne, holding a candle, above his head, appeared, expressing surprise. "Has anyone entered the gates to-night?" asked his master. "No sir. I closed them at five as usual. No one has come in." There were no signs of the gates having been climbed, and the wall which ran round the estate was so high and the top was pricked with such cruel spikes, that no one could possibly have entered that way. Old Payne insisted that no one had entered: he had heard no voices, no footsteps, and seemed much perplexed by the insistence of his young master. At length Rupert desisted from making inquiries, being perfectly assured that he would learn nothing. He returned up the avenue slowly to the mansion, wondering how it came about, that Forge had entered the ground and left the fan on the very spot where Abbot Raoul had been burnt. Mrs. Petley had recovered from her swoon and, with her husband, had retreated to the kitchen. So, Rupert learned from Olivia, and he then gave her a description of his finding of the fan. She was very amazed and curious. "Show it to me," she said. "Not just now, dear," replied Rupert walking to the door. "I must ask Mrs. Petley first to explain what she saw." "She declares it was Abbot Raoul." "Pooh. Forge masquerading as the monk I expect. Though why he should come here and bring this infernal fan I cannot understand. What is the time, Olivia?" "Nine o'clock," she replied, "we had dinner early." "Yes. Well, I'll see Mrs. Petley. You need not say anything about the fan, and as old John didn't see me pick it up, there will be no difficulty with him." "Why should there be any difficulty with him?" asked Mrs. Ainsleigh. "Your aunt was killed for the sake of the fan, and the person who killed her must have been within these grounds to-night. I want to keep the matter quiet, until I see Rodgers to-morrow. Then I'll explain all, and place the fan in his hands." "Then you think Dr. Forge has been here?" "Yes--or Clarence Burgh. But, as they have left Marport, I don't see what they have to gain by remaining in a place fraught with so much danger to both. "They can't both be guilty, Rupert." "No. But Burgh declares that Forge strangled your aunt, and Miss Pewsey lays the blame on her nephew. But I don't believe either one of them. I shouldn't be at all surprised to learn that the assassin is Major Tidman after all. He wanted the fan badly, so as to get the money." "But you were with him on the beach, between eleven and twelve." "I was, and the evidence of Dr. Forge went to show that Miss Wharf was killed between those hours. But suppose, Olivia," Rupert sank his voice and drew nearer. "Suppose Forge knew from the condition of the body that your aunt had been killed _before_ eleven, and had procured the fan from Tidman by threatening to say so, in which case the Major could not have proved an alibi." "It might be so," replied Mrs. Ainsleigh, "but then the body would have been found earlier." "No. There was not a single person, so far as I know, who went down those steps. Tung-yu certainly did,--but that was after the crime was committed, and we know he did not carry the fan with him. It is a very strange case. Perhaps after all, Tidman had already killed the woman when he joined me on the beach to smoke." "Oh Rupert, how horrid. Was he disturbed." "He certainly seemed rather alarmed but I put that down to the circumstances. He never shook off his fear of that adventure he had in Canton, and of course the mere presence of Chinamen would make him uneasy. But he kept his own council. However, we can talk of this later. I must see Mrs. Petley," and Rupert disappeared. The housekeeper stuck to her story. She had gone into the cloisters to gather mushrooms which grew therein, and had the lantern with her. While stooping at the archway to see what she could pick she heard, even through the moaning of the wind the swish of a long garment. The sound brought her to her feet, and--as she phrased it--with her heart in her mouth. The place was uncanny and she had seen the Abbot before. "But never so plain--oh never so plain," wailed Mrs. Petley, throwing her apron over her white hair and rocking. "I held the light over my head and dropped it with a screech, for, there, not a yard away, Master Rupert, I saw it, with a long gown and a hood over its wicked white face--" "Did you see the face?" "I did, just as I dropped the lantern. White and wicked and evil. I dropped on my knees and said a prayer with closed eyes and then it went. I took the lantern and ran for the house for dear life, till I burst in on you and the mistress. Oh, Master Rupert dear, what did you see?" "Nothing! And I believe, Mrs. Petley, you beheld some rascal masquerading." "No! No! 'Twas a ghost--oh dreary me, my days are numbered." Mrs. Petley could not be persuaded that the thing she saw was flesh and blood, so Rupert gave up trying to convince her. He returned the lantern back to old John and told the couple to retire to bed. They were both white and nervous and not fit to be up. Then he came back to the drawing-room and found Olivia seated by the fire reading. At the door Rupert paused to think what a pretty picture she made in her rich dinner-dress--one of Miss Wharf's gifts--and with one small hand supporting her dainty head. She looked up, as though she felt the magic of his gaze, and he approached swiftly to press a kiss on the hand she held out to him. "Well?" asked Olivia. Rupert shrugged his shoulders. "There's nothing to be learned," said he, "Mrs. Petley won't give in. She believes she has seen a ghost, and declines that her days are numbered. As she is nearly seventy, I daresay they are. But this fan"--he took it out of his pocket. "Let me see it," said Olivia stretching out her hand. But Rupert drew it away and spread out the leaves. "No, my dear, I don't like you to handle the horrible thing. And besides, you have seen it often enough in the hand of your aunt." "Yes, but now there is an awful significance about it." "There's blood--" "Blood," cried his wife shuddering, "but she was strangled." "I speak figuratively, my dear. This little trifle has cost one life: it may cost more. I am quite sure Lo-Keong's life hangs on this fan, or he would not be so anxious to get it back. It has a secret, and I intend to learn what the secret is." "Oh, you mean to wave it in the smoke," said Olivia remembering what Rupert had told her of Tung-yu's speech. "Yes I do. I want to see the invisible picture. Then, we may learn of this hiding place which contains the things, Lo-Keong's enemies wish to secure. I expect it is some treasonous correspondence." "But, Rupert, the hiding-place will be in China. Lo-Keong would not send papers of that kind to be concealed in England." "It would be the safest place," replied Rupert dryly, "however, I intend to try the experiment of waving this fan in the smoke." "You don't know the kind of smoke?" "I can guess the kind. Olivia do you remember that joss stick which Mrs. Petley found in the Abbey." "Yes--at the time she saw the ghost." "Precisely. The ghost left that joss-stick behind on the first occasion, and the fan on the second. Now I shouldn't wonder if the fan had got into the hands of Hwei, and that _he_ was the ghost." "What makes you think that?" "Well, Hwei confessed that he was lurking outside the Bristol hotel to get a chance of killing Miss Wharf when she was lured out by Tung-yu. That gentleman however played false. All the same Hwei was here, and perhaps he came up to the Abbey--" "Why?" asked Olivia looking perplexed. "Ah, that I can't tell you. But I fancy the answer is to be found in this fan, as soon as we see the picture." "But the smoke." "Must be made by that joss-stick. It smells like cinnamon, and is apparently a manufactured article. Hwei brought it, so that he could wave the fan in its smoke and then learn the secret. But he dropped the joss-stick and--where is it Olivia." "I put it in a drawer over there, after you showed it to me." Mrs. Ainsleigh went to a rose-wood cabinet and opened a drawer. She then returned with the Joss-stick in her hand, and gave it to her husband, who was kneeling on the hearth-rug. "I hope it won't explode, Rupert," said Olivia nervously. He stared. "Why should you think that?" "Well it might have been dropped on purpose, and looks like a cracker with that red paper round it. Perhaps there's dynamite--" "Nonsense," said Rupert taking out a match, "however, if you are afraid, go into the next room." "No," said Olivia seating herself, "if you are to be blown to bits, I'll be blown up with you." They both laughed at the idea, and then Rupert lighted the match. It was distinctly nervous work however, and Olivia started back, as her husband set the joss stick fizzling. She was leaning forward in the chair with her dark head nearly touching his fair hair. The joss stick smoked slowly and a queer odour diffused itself though the room. Olivia sniffed. "Rupert," she said positively, "it's the same scent as was on that letter of Tung-yu's." "And of Lo-Keong also," said Rupert watching the thick bluish smoke, which now began to curl up from the joss stick, "apparently the Mandarin uses the perfume as a kind of clue, or perhaps it is a special scent dedicated to this private god of his. I shall never understand Chinamen and I'm very sure I don't want too. Olivia, hold the stick while I wave the fan in the smoke." Being now assured that the smoke was proceeding from a harmless article, Mrs. Ainsleigh took the stick and held it lightly, while her husband gravely waved the out-spread fan in the thick smoke. The joss stick fizzled and burned and gave out its queer smell, which made both slightly dizzy. Every now and then, Rupert looked at the enamelled side of the fan, where Tung-yu said that a picture would appear. There certainly did seem something scrawled on the smooth green sticks, and a blurred outline revealed itself. For quite ten minutes Ainsleigh continued waving, until the joss stick burnt down nearly to the root. Then he looked again, Olivia placed the still fizzling joss stick in the fender, and peered over his shoulder. She uttered a cry when she saw the black outline of the picture, and Rupert nearly echoed it. They were looking at a drawing of the cloisters. Yes--there were the cloisters of Royabay Abbey taken, as by a camera, from the archway. The architecture was clear enough, and the trees also. But the picture was merely evanescent, for as the fan grew cold again the outlines vanished. However, they knew that the hiding place of the presumed papers, was within the cloisters of Royabay--but in what spot. Rupert laid down the fan and propounded the problem to his wife. "The indications would be more exact." "Yes," replied Olivia thoughtfully, and picked up the fan, "I suppose you are right, Rupert. It must have been Hwei who came to the Abbey on the night my aunt was killed and dropped the joss stick. Perhaps he came to see if he could find the hiding place, without the aid of the fan." "No," said Rupert, "Hwei is the servant of Lo-Keong, and probably knew of the hiding place; whereas Tung-yu, who served Hop Sing wanted the fan to learn about it. I expect had Tung-yu bought the fan, he would have come here and found the papers and then have cleared out to China to place them in his master's hands and ruin Lo-Keong." "Are you sure there are papers hidden?" said Olivia, fingering the beads dangling from the thick yellow cord. "I think so. It can't be gold or silver or jewels. However, what we have to do is to find what is hidden. Then when Lo-Keong comes down we can make a bargain with him. If he hands over my eight thousand, I'll give him whatever we find." "But how are we find the spot," said Mrs. Ainsleigh dreamily. "Oh, Rupert," she added, "it's in one of the trees. Don't you remember a tree was drawn at the side of the picture with a white line down the trunk?" "No, I didn't see that. I saw the four trees and the stump drawn in the picture." Mrs. Ainsleigh rattled the beads through her fingers. "Four beads and half a bead," she exclaimed, "Rupert, those stand for the four trees and for the stump." "What makes you think so?" "The half bead--that is the stump, and see, one of the beads is of jasper, that might be the copper beech." "By jove," Rupert jumped up, "I believe you are right." "I am sure I am, and in the tree drawn at the side of the picture which you did not observe, there was a white line down the trunk." "Well," said Rupert pondering, "perhaps whatever is hidden is tied to a string or a chain and is dropped down the trunk of one of the four trees--or perhaps in the stump." "Not in the stump," said Olivia quickly, "for then the line would be visible, while in the other trees it would be concealed in the thick foliage. I fancy the line must be down the copper beech trunk, as there is but one red bead." "There is but one tree though--one copper beech you know," said her husband. "I am inclined to think that to make things safer, the hiding place must be in one of the green trees signified by the jade beads. The question is, which tree is it?" Olivia looked at the fan again, and as she did so started. Rupert also raised his head. They heard the sound of wheels scrunching the gravel outside, and wondered who was arriving so late. The clock pointed to half-past ten. The servants had gone to bed, so Rupert followed by his wife, who was rather nervous, went to the door. When Rupert opened it he found himself facing a tall handsome man in a fur cloak, and wearing a strange hat. "Good evening," said the stranger in the best of English, "I speak to Mr. Ainsleigh I think, I am the Marquis Lo-Keong." CHAPTER XX The Mandarin Explains "I must apologise for this very late visit," said Lo-Keong, when he was conducted to the drawing-room by his surprised host, "but I must explain--" "Not now. Marquis," replied Ainsleigh, giving his visitor the rank which he claimed, "you must be weary and hungry." "No. I am perfectly well, and enjoyed a meal before I left London. If you will give my servants orders to take up my luggage, and will then hear what I have to say, you will do everything I desire." Rupert went again to the hall to tell the two Chinese servants, which Lo Keong had brought with him, to take the trunks up to the bed-room which the Marquis would occupy. Then he went to the back and made Mr. and Mrs. Petley rise. Both were disturbed when they heard that a Chinese grandee was in the house. "I do hope he won't bring trouble with him," said Mrs. Petley to her husband. "I never could a-bear them things, since I saw that creature who brought home the old master's baggage. And, Missus, as is dead, couldn't bear him either." "He was a cock-eyed man," said old John reflectively. "Cock-eyed yourself," retorted the housekeeper who had a better memory, "he was one-eyed, and a nice ugly thing he looked. Ah well, as I always says, Abbot Raoul don't walk for nothing, and this Chiner gentleman coming here, means trouble." Old John who was much the same way of thinking himself, grew annoyed by his wife's pessimism and told her to hurry up and come to the kitchen. Then he went to see after the bed-room which his master had selected for the untoward guest. Mrs. Petley came down to find her kitchen in the possession of two grave silent Chinamen who had lighted the fire and were boiling water for tea. "Well, I'm sure," said Mrs. Petley surveying both with distaste, "the idear of these furreiners taking liberties," and she sniffed at the Far East. Meanwhile, Rupert returned to the drawing-room and found the Marquis paying attentions to his wife. Lo-Keong was a tall, fine-looking man, grave and extremely polite. He had admirable manners, and his clothes were of the finest. Olivia in her rich dinner dress, felt quite plainly dressed beside this gorgeous gentleman, who wore a jacket of rose-pink, a coat of grass green satin, pale blue silk trousers, and thick-soled white green shoes. He also had a glossy pig-tail woven with silk, and carried a small fan--at which Olivia shuddered. Seated in a deep arm-chair, he looked a potentate, quite out of place in that sober English drawing-room. The Marquis was very affable, and deferential to Mrs. Ainsleigh, who quite overcame her dislike to Celestials after a few moments converse with this splendid specimen of the aristocracy of Cathay. "You are quite sure you won't have some refreshment?" she asked. Lo-Keong waved his slim hand graciously. "I thank you, no," said he, "and if you will allow me to explain myself, you can then retire. I am ashamed of having called at this hour. But," he looked at Rupert first and at Olivia afterwards, "my excuse is a good one. I have seen Hwei--whom you know." Ainsleigh shuddered. "Yes, and I don't retain any very pleasant recollections of that gentleman," said he. Lo-Keong laughed quietly, "Hwei is a true devotée of the god Kwang-ho." "I don't understand about that god," said Olivia. "I have come to explain," said the Chinaman, "it is a great pity I did not come before. You would then have had no trouble about this," and he took up the famous fan which Olivia had tossed on the sofa. "Oh," the young couple looked at one another, and if they did not say "oh," the expression of "oh"--an amazed "oh" was on their faces. Lo-Keong seemed to have his eyes everywhere, and took up the fan as if it was the most natural thing it should be lying there. "You understand," he went on in his calm well-bred voice. "I have seen Hwei and he told me everything." "About the murder?" "About the murder, Mrs. Ainsleigh, and about the hunt for the assassin; also about your husband's visit to London, and full details concerning the folly of Tung-yu--my enemy's servant, who related how the picture on this," he laid a long yellow finger on the fan, "could be brought to light," his eyes wandered to the fragment of the joss stick within the fender. "I observe that you have been clever enough to see the picture." "Yes," said Rupert, quite amazed at this penetration, "but how do you know that?" "Very easily. Hwei told me that he came to the cloisters one night to see that all was well----" "He knew of the hiding place then?" asked Olivia, eagerly. "Certainly. I have always trusted Hwei, but Tung-yu did not know, and hence his desire to procure the fan. Hwei was here on the night poor Miss Wharf was killed, and dropped the joss stick. You have been clever enough to make use of it. Well, now you both know where the packet is?" "The packet?" "Of papers which mean my life--papers connected with the Boxers, which the Mandarin Hop Sing would give much to possess." "We know that the packet is hidden in a tree," said Rupert, "but which tree we cannot guess." "Ah," Lo-Keong slipped the beads through his fingers, "here is a piece of jade with a gold band round it." "The third bead----" "Consequently the third tree. We will look for the packet, as soon as I explain myself. The packet must be safe, as you have the fan, and I know, Mr. Ainsleigh, you are my friend, as I was the friend of your father before you." "What," Rupert threw back his head. "I understood from Dr. Forge, that you were my enemy." Lo-Keong frowned. "Ah! he goes as far as that," said he, then paused a moment. "I will explain." Olivia would have interrupted, but he threw out a long arm in an imperious manner, and began his story without further preamble, playing with the fan all the time. "My name," said the Marquis, "is Lo-Keong, and I am a native of the province of Kan-Su----" "Where the mine is," murmured Rupert. "Exactly, Mr. Ainsleigh. My native town is on the Hwei River, and not far from the mine your father bought----" "Along with Dr. Forge." "Pardon me, sir, but Dr. Forge did not buy it. He was merely a servant of your father's. The mine was owned by your father alone. I conducted the negotiations on behalf of the owner of the land." "But Forge says----" "I can guess." Lo-Keong waved his hand coldly. "He blackens my name to you, and lies about the mine. Always bad--always foul, always a liar--that man must be killed. I have spared him too long." Olivia shuddered. "No Marquis," said she, "I beg that there may be no more murders." "Not in England, but when this Forge comes again to China," here the Marquis smiled in a cruel way, but made no further remark. The young people shuddered. He smiled benignly on them, and went on with his story in a calm level voice. "My respected parent was a merchant," said he calmly, "and he gave me a fine education, of which, as you know, we think greatly in the Middle Kingdom. I secured the Hanlin degree, which is very high, and so became greater than my friend Hop Sing, who failed. That success made Hop Sing my enemy. I returned home, and Hop Sing made trouble. It is not necessary to explain how," added the Marquis with another wave of his hand. "But the trouble resulted in my leaving my parental roof, and becoming a soldier with the Boxers who then conspired against the Empress Dowager. But before I left my native town, I acted as the middle man between a respected resident and Mr. Markham Ainsleigh who desired to lease a gold mine on the Hwei River. I left him in full possession of the rights to work the mine, and Dr. Forge assisted him." "Not as a partner?" asked Rupert breathlessly. "By no means, Mr. Ainsleigh. Forge was a good doctor, but he knew nothing about mining. He doctored the Coolies, and attended to minor matters. Your father looked after the mine personally. I understand he learned how to do so in California." "Yes--He was there before I was born, but--" "Permit me to continue, Mr. Ainsleigh. Well then, I left your father in possession of the mine, and joined the Boxers. I rose to be a leader, and afterwards returned to see my parents. At that time the rebellion--for that it was--proved unfortunate, so it was necessary that I should conceal myself. I took service with your father as a foreman of the mine, and I can safely say," said Lo-Keong with a certain show of emotion, "that your father saved my life. I consider myself indebted to him, and now I am indebted to his son." "It is very good of you," said Rupert. "I need a friend." "You have one in me," said the Marquis courteously. "But to proceed, as the night grows darker. I was your father's friend, Hop Sing was his enemy, and Forge sided with Hop Sing." "But why did he do that?" asked Ainsleigh impetuously. "Forge was at college with my father--they were great friends--" "So Mr. Markham Ainsleigh thought. But Dr. Forge was greedy and wished to have the mine to himself. Hop Sing, who had some influence at the Imperial Court, promised to help Dr. Forge to get rid of your father and secure the mine provided I was ruined." "And Forge acted this base part." "He did," said the Mandarin quietly. "I may tell you Mr. Ainsleigh that I was completely in your father's confidence. He made a great deal of money out of the mine, and I arranged for it to be turned into safe investments through a third person whose name need not be mentioned. A large sum was placed out at interest and all these many years the interest has been accumulating. You will receive a handsome sum I assure you, Mr. Ainsleigh." "But," broke in Olivia perplexed. "Dr. Forge told my husband that the whole amount was eighteen thousand, of which ten thousand belonged to him and eight thousand to Rupert." "Dr. Forge places the money obtained from the mine at a low figure," said the Chinaman smiling, "what the amount is, I shall tell you later. Meanwhile I must explain the intrigue which led to your father's murder----" "Ah," Rupert leaped to his feet, "then he _was_ murdered." "He was--by the emissary of Hop Sing. Be calm, Mr. Ainsleigh, and be seated. Your father died quietly enough by strangulation----" "What. Was he killed in the same way as Miss Wharf?" Lo-Keong bowed his stately head, "Yes, and by the same person----" "Tung-yu," cried Olivia starting to her feet in her turn. "Exactly, Mrs. Ainsleigh. I know that Tung-yu strangled Mr. Markham Ainsleigh, and I believe that he strangled your aunt." Rupert sat down on the sofa and drew his wife down beside him. "But Tung-yu was the man who was to buy the fan----" "Quite so." Lo-Keong folded and unfolded the fan calmly. "You know of the god Kwang-ho." "Yes--but I can't understand----" "Naturally," the Marquis laughed quietly, "that is a thing beyond the comprehension of a Western barbarian--your pardon for so calling you, Kwang-ho," went on the Mandarin, "is an ancestor of mine who lived during the Ming dynasty. He was a sage, and very famous, so I took him as my private god." Olivia looked amazed and a little shocked. "A private god. I never knew that anyone could have a private god even in China," she said. "If you have read Roman history, Mrs. Ainsleigh, you will remember the Lares and Penates, which were something of the same kind. I was very unfortunate with the public gods of my country, so I chose Kwang-ho to be my genius--my destiny. I had an image made and offered him incense. It was, in fact what you might call ancestral worship; only I looked upon Kwang-ho as one who could control my destiny. I was right," said Lo-Keong emphatically, "for, from the moment I sacrificed to Kwang-ho, my fortunes changed." "In what way?" asked Rupert, wondering that a clever man like this should talk so superstitiously. "In every way. The priest of my new god Kwang-ho consulted the deity and ordered that I should leave the Boxers and attach myself to the party of the Empress Dowager, who was to be all powerful in the future. I think," added Lo-Keong smiling blandly, "that Kwang-ho was right in that. Who is so powerful as my august mistress." "True enough," admitted Ainsleigh impatiently, "but what has this to do with the death of my father?" "Patience, Mr. Ainsleigh. I arranged to leave the Boxers. We were fighting for the Emperor, who was then being crushed by the Empress Dowager. I had many papers showing my devotion to the Boxer cause and to His Imperial Majesty. These papers I intended to destroy: but remembering that some day the Emperor might overcome the Empress, I decided to keep the papers. They would show that I had worked for the Emperor, and thus my fortunes would be secure should His Imperial Majesty reign alone. As yet," added Lo-Keong with a shrug, "he has not reigned alone and my august mistress still rules the destinies of the middle kingdom." "Ah. And if she got those papers?----" "She would cut off my head," replied Lo-Keong quietly, "so now you see why I thought it best to conceal them. I wished to preserve the papers so as to keep myself in favour with the Emperor, when he became supreme, and I wished to conceal them from the Empress Dowager and her spies, while she ruled China. You understand?" "We do," said the young couple. "So you used the means of the fan to tell where they were hidden?" asked Rupert. The Mandarin assented. "I did. I spoke to your father about this plan of concealment. I knew the papers would not be safe in China, as the emissaries of Hop Sing would find them, and I should be ruined, so on the suggestion of your father, I decided to hide them in England." "But why in the Abbey?" "Mr. Markham Ainsleigh's suggestion, sir. He said that this place had been in the possession of his family for years and would likely continue to remain under the Ainsleigh--" "Alas--alas," sighed Rupert. "Not at all, sir," was Lo-Keong's brisk reply, "you will have enough money to keep this place I assure you. But to continue--your father, whose health was very bad, arranged to take his money back to this place, and to take also the papers I wished to hide. We arranged that they should be concealed in the third tree and then I hit upon the plan of an invisible picture on the fan with the assistance of the beads to identify the hiding-place." "But was that necessary when you knew the hiding-place?" "I wished my heirs to benefit by my services to the Emperor during the Boxer rising; and they were not to know of the existence of these papers till I died. So you will understand--" "Yes! It's very interesting, so please go on." "Well while we were arranging these things Forge went to Pekin, and got a concession to work the mine from the Empress through the influence of Hop Sing. Meanwhile, I arranged to enter the service of my Imperial Mistress, and left your father ill of dysentery." "Of which, according to Forge, he died." "No," said the Mandarin decisively, "he was recovering. He had the packet and the fan which he was to take to this place. Hwei was to go with him, and design the invisible picture and hide the packet. I went to see about letting your father have the money which I had invested for him. All was ready and he was winding up his affairs. Then the emissary of Hop Sing strangled your father--" "Tung-yu," said Rupert much agitated. "I have already said that," replied the Marquis rather tartly, "your father died, and Forge obtained the mine. But he did not hold it long. I represented that Forge had obtained the death of Mr. Markham Ainsleigh through Hop Sing. The Empress took my view. Hop Sing was disgraced and I was promoted. Forge had to leave China for the time being, but he came back several times. I sent Hwei to this place with your father's effects and with the fan. He concealed the packet and drew the picture. Your mother was alive then, Mr. Ainsleigh, and Hwei showed her the fan, though he did not tell her the secret." "Ah," cried Rupert, "now I remember where I saw the fan." "Yes," Lo-Keong nodded, "as a boy of five you may remember it." "I certainly do. But Marquis, why did you not send my father's money to my mother?" "Ah. She died, and although I knew you were the heir and in the guardianship of Forge who was your enemy I could do nothing. Hop Sing got the upper hand again and I was in my turn disgraced. Then Hop Sing learned about the papers, and about the fan being the means of finding the hiding-place. He ordered Tung-yu to find the fan. Hwei was bringing the fan back from England to me. He was assaulted when he landed in China, but he luckily had given the fan to a brother of his, so Hop Sing could not find it. Then the brother was killed and a coolie, who knew nothing of the fan, took possession of it. Afterwards, I wanted the fan. Hop Sing told me what he suspected, so I applied to the god Kwang-ho. The god declared, through his priest, that Hop Sing was to come with me to the shrine. He did so, and thus, bitter enemies as we were, we came for a time to be in peace." "And then the arrangement was made?" "Yes. The god said that an equal chance must be given to good and evil. Hwei was appointed to find the fan for me, and to give death to the person who had it. Tung-yu acted for Hop Sing and was to give a reward of not less than five thousand pounds so that the person who held the fan should be rich for life. Each was to hold sway for twenty-four hours. I caused this to be published in the Chinese newspaper in Pekin. The coolie heard it and being fearful lest he should be killed, he kept the fan for years and said nothing. Then Major Tidman--" "Ah I know. He came to see how my father died." "Quite so, Mr. Ainsleigh, and the coolie, knowing the fan was connected with the death--for he afterwards went to Kan-su mine and asked questions--gave the fan to the Major to get rid of it, and--" "And we know the rest," said Rupert rising. "Tidman gave it to Dr. Forge, and he gave it to you--or rather you caused it to be taken from him." "No," said the Mandarin, "that is not true. I never saw the fan till now. All these years I have never set eyes on it." "But Dr. Forge said--" "Whatever he said he speaks falsely," said Lo-Keong, "but it is growing late, Mr. Ainsleigh, and I see that your wife is weary. Let us retire and I shall tell you the rest of the story to-morrow. But before I go to rest," added the Mandarin decidedly, "I must assure myself that the packet is still in the trunk of the third tree." Rupert was quite ready and lighted the lantern. The two men went to the Abbey into the pitchy darkness, and walked to the third tree near the bare spot. Lo-Keong who seemed to be able to see in the dark like a cat looked round, and laid his finger on a huge oak. "This is the tree," said he confidently. "But I can't very well see," said Rupert, "from which side do you count?" "From the left to right," explained the mandarin, "in these robes, Mr. Ainsleigh, I cannot climb the tree, will you please to do so. You will find the hollow trunk and the line. Pall it up: the papers will be at the end. Bring them to me if you please." So speaking Lo-Keong took the light and Rupert although in thin evening dress began to climb the tree. Luckily it was not difficult as the branches hung low, but it was disagreeable on account of the dripping wet. Every movement shook down much moisture. However, the active young man disappeared in the foliage and then felt round. He could not see, and came down to get the lantern, which the Chinaman passed to him. Then he found that the trunk of the tree was broken off, amidst the thick branches, and that the centre was hollow. He espied a rusty thin chain, and pulled it up. At the end there was a small box, which he brought down. With an exclamation of joy Lo-Keong took it. It opened easily in his hand. "Gone," cried the Marquis in a voice of anguish. He spoke truly. The box was empty. CHAPTER XXI Who is Guilty? Next morning at the early hour of nine o'clock Orlando Rodgers drove up to Royabay filled with curiosity. He had received Rupert's letter which summoned him to come down on matters connected with the murder, and he was eager to learn details. Rodgers himself, had been unlucky. He had traced The Stormy Petrel to the Thames near Rotherhithe, and had learned from the Captain that two Chinamen had hired the boat for a couple of days. They went down to Marport and had gone ashore early in the evening. They came on board again after midnight, and then had requested to be put ashore at Rotherhithe. The Captain confessed that he had been paid well for the job, and thought--with a wink--that there was no chance of his knowing his employers again. Rodgers of course recognised that Tung-yu and Hwei in their queer partnership had hired the yacht--which it seems was a public boat anyone could take for a period,--and he knew also that the den, where Rupert and Clarence had met with their adventures, was in Rotherhithe. He learned of this from no less a person than Mr. Burgh himself, for the buccaneer called at the police office in London to ask if the Chinamen had been caught. Rodgers had extracted a full account of the adventures, and had gone to the den only to find it empty, and the Chinamen conspicuous by their absence. Burgh himself had not returned as he promised, and the detective was annoyed at this, after he heard Rupert's story. Had he known what this was, he certainly would have arrested Burgh there and then, for participation in the murder. But the astute Clarence in telling his Penter's Alley adventure, had taken care not to incriminate himself. On arrival the detective was shown into the drawing-room where Rupert was sitting with the stately Mandarin. Olivia was not present as she had heard quite enough about the fan, and wished to hear no more, not even the end of Lo-Keong's very interesting story. Rodgers recognised that Lo-Keong was of a different type of Celestial to Tung-yu and Hwei, and paid him great deference. He explained to Rupert his ill-success with the yacht Stormy Petrel, and detailed the interview with Clarence. "I wish I had told you about him in my letter," said Rupert jumping up, much annoyed with himself, "you could have arrested him." And when Rodgers heard the story, he blamed Ainsleigh, as much as he blamed himself for not having risked an arrest on suspicion. "But you know, sir," said he, huffily, "Burgh really didn't give himself away. I could do nothing to him--or to the Captain of the Stormy Petrel either on what evidence I hear. As to those Chinamen--" "Ah," said Lo-Keong, "you must let me deal with them Mr. Rodgers." "Can you deal with Tung-yu." The Mandarin drew down the corners of his mouth. "I think so," said he, "it is my belief that he has the papers." "What papers, sir?" Lo-Keong, seeing it was absolutely necessary to make things plain, if he wanted to secure his precious packet, related almost word for word the story he had told on the previous night. "So you see," he observed, "Tung-yu probably strangled Miss Wharf as formerly he strangled Mr. Markham Ainsleigh. I discussed this with Hwei, and he, knowing that Tung-yu had betrayed him once, was much of the same opinion." "But if Tung-yu has the papers, why did he write to Tidman?" argued Rupert, not inclined to take, this view. "Probably to throw Hwei off the scent. Tung-yu knows well enough that if he started for China, Hwei would suspect he had the papers, and would follow him to get them." "By murder?" "Probably," said the Mandarin indifferently, "and after all sir, why not? Tung-yu killed your father and Miss Wharf. Hwei is watching him, and if he can make sure that Tung-yu has my parcel, he will kill him--with my approval," ended Lo-Keong calmly. "Wait a bit," said Rodgers also coolly, though the speech astonished him not a little, "when you talked to Hwei, you did not know that the papers had been stolen." "No. But he who has the fan has the papers. Hwei and I both thought that Tung-yu had the fan, and therefore Hwei watches him. I came down unexpectedly last night instead of waiting, so that I might assure myself that the packet was safe. But only a short time before, Mr. Ainsleigh found the fan. Tung-yu must have come down and taken the papers." Rupert nodded. "Certainly. Without doubt he was the ghost Mrs. Petley saw, and when she came on him suddenly, he dropped the fan and fled. He must have climbed the wall of the park in spite of the spikes." Lo-Keong smiled sourly, "I do not think anything--spikes or otherwise would have kept Tung-yu from gaining possession of those papers. And of course he knew the way to make the picture visible." "How was that. I thought only you and my father and Hwei--" "Ah," said the Mandarin calmly, "it seems that Tung-yu overheard the discussion between myself and your father as to the hiding of the papers and the plan of the fan. When he strangled Markham Ainsleigh, he hoped to find the packet at once. But Hwei secured both the fan and the packet. I have told you how they came to England, and how Hwei gave the fan to his brother. The brother was killed by accident and the coolie I spoke of, found the fan in his clothing, knowing nothing of it's significance. Then he learned the truth from the notice I put in the Pekin paper, and was afraid lest he should offend the god Kwang-ho. No he was not afraid of death--few of us are in China. But the anger of a god is different: it means ages of torment and the chance of being born again in the belly of some creeping animal. So the coolie kept the fan, till he found an opportunity of giving it to a foreign devil, in the person of Major Tidman. I can't understand how he knew the Major wanted the fan, save that he must have heard that Tidman was searching for news as to the death of Markham Ainsleigh. The coolie then knew, from enquiries at the mine, that the fan was connected with the death, and thus that the god Kwang-ho might have appointed the death of Markham. Yes," said the Mandarin complacently, "the coolie was afraid of the god, and no doubt was glad when Major Tidman took the fan." Rodgers stared as Lo-Keong spoke. "It's rum to hear a gentleman like yourself talk this way, sir," he said. "Ah," smiled the Mandarin, "our Eastern ways are different to yours." "Yes," said the detective, "but you are so clever, that I don't see how you can believe in all this stuff about the private god." Lo-Keong waved his hand imperatively. "Let us not speak of that, or we anger Kwang-ho. He is the controller of my destiny. Rather let us see how we can recover my papers from Tung-yu." "If he has them," put in Rupert perplexedly. "And if so, Hwei will get them back." "Assuredly," replied the Mandarin, "the first attempt that Tung-yu makes to leave England for our own land, Hwei will guess the truth, and will kill him to get the fan or the papers." "But the fan is here." "Yes. Hwei however thinks Tung-yu has it. I shall tell him that Tung-yu has taken the papers. "But by breaking the agreement come to before the god, won't Kwang-ho be angry, Marquis." "Hwei does not mind, he is my slave and will do anything for me. No--No," added the Marquis calmly, "as Tung-yu first disobeyed the god, in not bringing Miss Wharf to meet with her doom at the hands of Hwei, Kwang-ho will give him up to my vengeance." Neither of the Europeans could make anything of this. "What we want to know," said Ainsleigh, speaking for himself and Rogers, "is, how did the fan get back to you?" "I told you last night it did not get back," replied Lo-Keong. "I heard from Hwei that the fan was given to Miss Wharf by Burgh--but how he got it--" Lo-Keong shook his head. "From a pirate in Chinese waters." "No. The fan never came back to China." Lo-Keong took a paper out of his pocket, "I should have given that to you last night. It will show you why Hwei and Tung-yu came to look for the fan in England," and he gave the paper to Rupert. The young man read it. It was in scratchy female handwriting, and was to the effect that the fan of the Marquis was in the possession of a certain person in England. No name was signed to this paper, and after Rodgers had read it, Lo-Keong took it again and laid it on the table. "So you see," he remarked, "when I got that letter, I knew the fan was in England. I sent Hwei to search for it, and of course Tung-yu on behalf of Hop Sing came also. They could not find who had written the letter, and advertised the fan as you know." "Then Burgh told a lie," said Rupert. Lo-Keong opened his mouth to speak, but before he could do so, Mrs. Ainsleigh entered with a sheet of foolscap in her hand. "I beg your pardon for interrupting you gentlemen," she said excitedly, "but here is something you should know. Rupert," she turned to her husband and thrust the paper into his hand. "It's from Dr. Forge." "What?" cried Ainsleigh astonished. "Has he dared to write?" "Yes, and he writes to some purpose. Read it out Rupert. I am sure the Marquis and Mr. Rodgers will be glad to hear." "If it bears on the case," hesitated the detective. "It does," answered Olivia seating herself, "listen." Rupert glanced at the heading of the letter. "He gives London as his address," he said, "so he apparently is afraid of being caught." "Read, dear," said Mrs. Ainsleigh impatiently. Thus adjured Rupert began. "My dear Mrs. Ainsleigh," said Forge in his communication, "I write to you rather than your husband, as I think you will judge me fairer than he will." "As if I could," put in Mrs. Ainsleigh impatiently. "I am not a good man, and I never pretended to be. But I have been poor all my life, and the lack of money is the cause of my having acted in a way which, otherwise I should not have done. There is much truth in Becky Sharp's remark that anyone can be good on five thousand a year. Had I possessed that amount this letter would never have been written. As it is, I write, because I hear that the Marquis Lo-Keong is in England, and he will no doubt, tell your husband his own story." "Which is not creditable to Forge," said the Marquis, suavely. Rupert nodded and proceeded . . . . "I was at college with Markham Ainsleigh, your husband's father, and he believed in me. But I was always jealous of him, as he was handsomer than I was; he possessed an ancient and honoured name, and was fairly well off. I was born of poor parents and was of humble origin. Markham certainly helped me with money and with influence, so that I obtained my degree." "And a nice way he repaid his obligations," said Olivia, sharply. "He's frank enough about his baseness at all events," said Rupert, and then continued the letter. "Markham wanted money, and as the doctor of a liner to Hong-Kong, I had heard of a little-worked gold mine on the Hwei River. I told Markham about it, and proposed that he should go to China to work the mine. He agreed, and took me with him, as he thought that my medical knowledge would benefit him." "Does Forge say he owned part of the mine?" asked Lo-Keong. "No. Listen," said Rupert, reading slowly. "I was merely the doctor, as Markham bought the rights to work the mine with his own money. But he promised me a share, and my share now amounts to ten thousand pounds." "That is true in a way," said Lo-Keong, "out of the money I pay you, Mr. Ainsleigh, this man can certainly claim that amount." "Then what I receive must be a large sum," said Rupert. The Chinaman smiled faintly. "Much larger than you think," said Lo-Keong, "pardon my interruption and proceed." Rupert continued. "But I was not satisfied with my share, and wanted all the money. Lo-Keong had an enemy called Hop Sing, and he promised if I could ruin Lo-Keong that he would put Markham out of the way, and give me the money which had been obtained by working the mine. I knew that Markham had never sent any money home, as he wanted to wait until he could become a millionaire, and then return to astonish his wife, and restore the splendours of Royabay. I therefore saw Hop Sing----" "I think you can leave all that out, Mr. Ainsleigh," said Lo-Keong, "it is the story I told you." "So it is," said Rupert, running his eyes down the closely written page. "Well--hum--hum," he picked up the thread of the tale lower down. "It seems," he said, speaking for himself, "that Hop Sing fell into disgrace, and Forge could not get the money. He went to China several times, as Hop Sing recovered his position----" "And I fell into disgrace," said the Marquis, "the Empress is a woman you know--pardon me, Mrs. Ainsleigh--and whimsical." "Well," said Rupert, smiling, "you seem to have been up and down several times. When Hop Sing was in favour. Forge went to China, but the Mandarin refused to help him to get the money which was under the control of Lo-Keong, unless the fan was obtained. Forge learned the conditions of the fan, and finally got it from the Major. He took it to England and locked it up in a cabinet. But he was afraid to take it to China or use it in case Hwei should kill him." "And Hwei would have killed him," said the Marquis, "it was as well that Forge was so careful. But how did he lose the fan?" "Miss Pewsey took it," said Rupert glancing at the letter. "A woman," the Marquis took the note from the table, and passed it to Mrs. Ainsleigh. "Tell me, madam, is that a woman's handwriting." Olivia looked surprised. "It is Miss Pewsey's handwriting." "Ah," said Rupert, "so she wrote to Lo-Keong telling him the fan was in England. Listen to what the doctor says," and he began to read again. "Miss Pewsey came to my house and was very friendly. She wanted me to marry her, saying she was trying to get Miss Wharf to leave her the money, that should have been left to you Mrs. Ainsleigh." "Ah," said Olivia significantly, "so she did work for that. Go on." The letter went on as follows:--"I didn't like Miss Pewsey who was old and ugly and evil--much worse than I ever was, in my worst days. But she haunted my house and I got used to her. I used to smoke opium, and grew very ill. In fact on more than one occasion I became delirious. Miss Pewsey came and nursed me. She took advantage of my delirium to learn the whole story of the fan, and learned also--don't be startled at this Mrs. Ainsleigh--that through me Markham had lost his life." "We know that from the Marquis," said Rodgers, "but I suspect Mr. Forge wouldn't have spoken out had he not guessed the Marquis would tell the whole yarn. Go on Mr. Ainsleigh." "Miss Pewsey," went on the letter, "insisted that I should marry her, or else she threatened to reveal the story to Rupert. I was unwilling that this should be, as I thought--and very rightly--that I should get into trouble." "And he would have," Rupert, broke off grimly to explain, "I should have shaken the life out of him. However, to continue," and he again began to read this highly interesting letter. "I therefore agreed to marry her, but always sought an opportunity of escape. During one of my insensible fits after a bout of opium smoking. Miss Pewsey took the key from my watch chain and opening the cabinet gained possession of the fan. I denied this to Major Tidman at Miss Pewsey's behest, or else Miss Pewsey would have denounced me." "Not she," said Rodgers, chuckling, "she would have lost her husband had she done so." "She has lost him in any case," said Olivia, "but I can tell you what is in the rest of the letter, as I see Rupert is tired of reading. Miss Pewsey gave the fan to Clarence to give to me----" "To win your favour," said Rupert. "No. To bring about my death. Miss Pewsey thought if I was out of the way, she would get Aunt Sophia to leave her the money." "What a wicked woman," said Lo-Keong, "we have none such in China." "Well," went on Olivia rapidly, "Miss Pewsey wrote to the Marquis saying the fan was in England--" "Here is the letter," said Rodgers nodding towards the epistle. "Yes. How strange I should see it almost immediately after Dr. Forge wrote," said Mrs. Ainsleigh innocently. "Miss Pewsey laid her plans well," said Rupert, looking again at the letter, "she intended to tell Hwei that Olivia had the fan so that she should be killed. But Olivia refused the fan, and Miss Pewsey made Clarence give it to Miss Wharf, so that the poor lady might be killed. But Miss Pewsey delayed the death at the hands of Hwei by holding her tongue, till a will was made in her favour. Chance favoured her, for she got the will altered." "By learning of our marriage when she played the spy," said Olivia. "Quite so," said Ainsleigh, "she then read the advertisement and knew that the two men, Hwei and Tung-yu, were in England. She wrote and told them that Miss Wharf had the fan. The letter was sent shortly before the ball, and after the new will was made. Tung-yu, therefore, came down to the ball to get the fan. This was not what Miss Pewsey wanted, as she desired Hwei to kill the woman." "She knew about the god Kwang-ho, then?" asked Lo-Keong. "I think so, but Forge isn't clear on that point. However, he declared that he does not know who killed Miss Wharf, nor who has the fan. He was told by Clarence, how he,--Burgh, had accused him to the Chinamen, and then grew fearful. Also, he heard that the Marquis was in England, and so he knew the whole story would come out. As he dreaded arrest, he fled." "But he could have prevented Burgh from speaking," said Olivia, "you know, Rupert, how Mr. Burgh told you that Forge knew things about him." "I daresay if the Marquis had not come to England, Forge would have silenced Clarence and fought the matter out. But he knew that the truth about my father's death would be told by the Marquis, and also dreaded, lest he should be accused of Miss Wharf's murder. He says that Clarence never gave him the tie as he says he did, and declares that he was in the card-room all the evening." "How does he end the letter?" asked Rodgers. Rupert read the last words. "So I write you this, Mrs. Ainsleigh, to show you that I am innocent of the death of your aunt. I see that the game is up and that I'll never get the ten thousand from Lo-Keong. Also, if I remain, I shall have to marry Miss Pewsey and cannot bear the idea. When you get this I'll be far away on the sea on a voyage to a land I need not particularise." "Not China, I hope," said the Marquis, "if he comes there again, I shall have to kill him. He deserves to be punished for having brought about the death of my friend Markham Ainsleigh. What is to be done now, gentlemen? We are no further on than before." "We certainly don't know who had the fan," said Rodgers. "Or who has the packet," put in Olivia. "Tung-yu has it I am sure," said Lo-Keong. "I don't agree with you, Marquis," said the detective. "Tung-yu and Hwei certainly cleared back to Rotherhithe by that yacht, but if the fan had been on board Hwei would have spotted it." "Tung-yu is very cunning," said the Marquis doubtfully. "Well," said Rupert, folding Forge's letter up, "I suggest that the Marquis should offer a large reward for the fan with his own name appended. Then whosoever has the packet will bring it. For of course," added Rupert shrewdly, "those who had the fan--if more than one--will have the packet." "Tung-yu--Tung-yu," said the Marquis shaking his head, "however, I will try the advertisement, and appoint a place. I am willing to give a large sum for the packet." "And I am prepared to arrest the person who brings the packet as the murderer of Miss Wharf," said Rodgers, "you leave the thing to me Marquis." "Come with me to London my friend," said Lo-Keong, "and we will write the advertisement. I shall reward you largely, if you get this packet back again." "And what will you do, Rupert?" asked Olivia eagerly. Her husband looked up. "I shall hunt for the packet on my own account." "Good," said Lo-Keong in his stately manner, "we will see who is fortunate enough to bring me the packet and earn," he looked at Rupert impressively, "one hundred thousand pounds." CHAPTER XXII After-Events Rodgers went to London with the Marquis Lo-Keong that very day, and Rupert wanted to go also. But Olivia objected to this, she feared lest her husband should be wounded again. "I don't wish to lose you darling," said Mrs. Ainsleigh coaxingly. "But the money," said Rupert dubiously. "You mean the hundred thousand pounds," said Olivia "That will be paid to you by the Marquis. It is rightfully your own." "Humph! It seemed to me that Lo-Keong hinted he would pay the money to whomsoever brought him the packet. In that case Rodgers----" "Nonsense," said Olivia quickly, "I am quite sure that the Marquis means well to both of us. No doubt he will reward Rodgers largely, should he get the packet: but he will give you your father's money." "All the same I should like to hunt for the packet on my own account, Olivia," said Rupert obstinately. "Let those hunt, to whom the packet is of value." "But I don't believe that this advertisement will bring forth anything," argued Ainsleigh frowning "if Tung-yu has the packet, he certainly won't pass it along to Lo-Keong. If Burgh stole it, he will be afraid lest Hwei, who is in Lo-Keong's pay, should kill him. As to Tidman--" "You thought he was guilty," said Olivia smiling. "And I still have my doubts," rejoined her husband, "so I'll call at the Bristol and have a talk." This conversation took place the day after the Mandarin had departed and Rupert was worrying about the exciting chase for the packet, which he foresaw would take place. However, as Olivia insisted, he should not risk his life again with Asiatics, he interested himself still in the case by talking it over with Major Tidman. On arriving at the Bristol, he was shown up at once to Tidman's room, and found the Major spick and span as usual, but greatly excited. "I was just coming up to see you," said the Major, "look here?" and he handed Rupert the morning's copy of the _Daily Telegraph_. Ainsleigh looked at the place indicated by the Major, and saw the advertisement asking for the return of the fan, on delivery of which the sum of five thousand would be paid. "I see that the Marquis has lost no time," said Rupert throwing down the paper, "he and Rodgers must have inserted the advertisement at once." "Oh," said the Major staring, "so you know." "Yes. Lo-Keong and Rogers were with me yesterday." "Lo-Keong. Why that is the man who owns the fan?" "Exactly. He is a Marquis, and high in the service of the Empress Dowager of China. As to the fan--" Rupert rapidly detailed how it had been found in the cloisters and related also the subsequent discovery, that the box attached to the chain in the tree trunk, was empty. "And the man who took the fan from Miss Wharf's dead body stole the packet," said Rupert, "so it is not likely he will risk arrest by coming forward to give the papers to Lo-Keong." Tidman sat down astounded at these revelations. "I wish I had been present," said he, "I was always curious about the fan's secret. A very ingenious device, Ainsleigh." "Very," assented Rupert dryly: then he cast a side-long look on the Major, and spoke to the point. "You had nothing to do with the stealing of the fan I hope, Major." "I," cried Tidman bouncing from his seat like an india rubber ball. "Well you see," went on Rupert, "we met on the beach after eleven, but it is just possible in spite of Forge's evidence, that Miss Wharf may have been killed before then." "And you believe that I killed her. Thank you Ainsleigh." "My good friend," rejoined the young man calmly, "Lo-Keong believes that Tung-yu broke his oath before the god, and strangled Miss Wharf. But I disagree with him, as Tung-yu could have procured the fan by milder means, the next day. Hwei could not have strangled the woman, as he was haunting the Abbey grounds to see if the packet was still safe. Forge, in a letter to my wife, insists that he never got the tie, and certainly did not kill Miss Wharf, so--" "So you have narrowed it down to me," cried Tidman in a burst of indignation, "it's too bad of you, Ainsleigh. I am not a thin skinned man by any means: but I do feel this very deeply. I swear," the Major flung up his hand dramatically, "I swear that I never possessed the tie, and I never killed Miss Wharf and I never took the fan and--" "That's all right," interrupted Rupert, "if you did not take the tie, you certainly could not have strangled the woman. After all, perhaps I have been too hard on you. Major." "Ah," said Tidman angrily, "you are prepared to take my word for it now, unsupported by other evidence. Your accusation can't be made seriously, Ainsleigh." "Well upon my soul," said Rupert passing his hand through his hair, "I really don't know what to think or say. This case seems to grow more mystical at every step. I admit that, as you deceived me at the time, we discussed the advertisement--" "You think I deceived you again. Well I did not. That was my one and only deception. I wanted the fan in order to procure money I admit: but the danger of being killed by Hwei instead of being rewarded by Tung-yu was too great. I dropped the matter." "Then who do you think is guilty?" "Clarence Burgh. Oh I am sure of it. He admits that Miss Pewsey told him the tie was in the overcoat pocket. No doubt he took it out and used it to incriminate you. Then again, Burgh learned from Tung-yu how the picture could be rendered visible--" "True enough," mused Rupert, "well he, might be guilty. And he certainly was in the cloisters one day--" "So as to examine the place," said the Major. "And afterwards, he came at night in the monk's disguise, knowing about the ghost and the legend. He was startled when he secured the packet and left the fan by accident on the black square." "Or by design," said Ainsleigh, "remembering the prophecy which says that 'gold will come from the holy ashes.' If I get this one hundred thousand pounds the prophecy will certainly be fulfilled, in a sort of way. It was indirectly owing to the fan that Lo-Keong told me of the money my father made in China, and through the fan, when the packet is restored, he intends to give the money to me." "Oh humbug," said the Major contemptuously. "I don't believe in that foolish rhyme a bit. But are you of my opinion that Burgh is guilty?" "Yes--in the way you put it, it seems probable." "Well then," said Tidman angrily and striking the table with his fist. "I have had enough of being suspected, so I'll help you to hunt down the assassin. I _must_ know who killed Miss Wharf, or else you will be accusing me again. See here," and he threw a paper on the table. It was a square of yellow paper, strongly perfumed, which asked the Major to bring the fan to the den in Penter's Alley. "You showed me this before," said Rupert. "I went up on your behalf." "Look at the date," said Tidman pointing, "it's a new invitation. I think Tung-yu--who writes the letter--believes I killed the woman and have the fan after all. Well, last time, you went on my behalf, this time, danger or no danger I'll go myself. You can come if you like." "I shall certainly come," said Rupert jumping up, "Olivia does not want me to proceed further in this matter, but, now that you are going, I'll go too. Tung-yu can't know that the fan is in my hands, or that the packet is missing." "He's not so clever as I thought he was," said Tidman coolly, "or he wouldn't have bungled this affair as he has done. I am not afraid of him, now. But you see that the appointment is for to-morrow night at nine o'clock." "At Penter's Alley under the lantern. Exactly--the same place. But as Rodgers knows of my adventure, I wonder Tung-yu risks another meeting. Besides, Rodgers told me he had been to the den and found both Chinamen gone." "Oh, thunderbolts never strike in the same spot twice," said Tidman, "it is the safest place. Rodgers, having gone once, will not go again. Well, will you come." "Yes," said Rupert, firmly and went back to the Abbey, to persuade his wife to let him make one more attempt to solve the mystery. Olivia was obdurate at first, but after a time, she yielded, though she assured Rupert she should be miserable all the time he was away. "And _do_ take care of yourself," she said. "Of course I'll take every care," replied her husband; and so it was arranged that Rupert should go up to town with Major Tidman by the six o'clock train the next evening, and proceed to Penter's Alley, to see Tung-yu, and learn--if possible, the truth. Olivia's attention was somewhat taken off the projected expedition to the wilds of Rotherhithe, by a visit from Lady Jabe. That eccentric female, looking more like a judge than ever, and dressed in a most manly fashion appeared, with a shining face, to announce that Chris was engaged to marry Lotty Dean. "It's most delightful," said Lady Jabe, "her father is merely a retired grocer, but I have consented to over-look that, if he settles some money on the young couple." "And has he consented?" asked Olivia languidly. She did not take much interest in the affairs of Mr. Walker. "Yes. Mr. Dean has allowed his daughter a thousand a year, paid quarterly," said Lady Jabe amiably, "and that, with what Chris earns at the office, will keep us nicely." "Us?" echoed Mrs. Ainsleigh smiling. "Certainly," was Lady Jabe's calm reply, "I have been a mother to Chris, and I intend to be a mother to Lotty. I shall look after the house, and control the purse, otherwise, the young pair may get into the bankruptcy court." Olivia privately thought that under Lady Jabe's care the young couple, would have a bad time, even though they might be free from bankruptcy. "What does Mr. Walker say?" "Oh Chris is delighted. He had better be. I'd like to see him cross me, dear Olivia. I've broken his spirit thoroughly. Lotty certainly is a trifle difficult, but I'll break her also by degrees." "I think you should leave Mr. and Mrs. Walker to manage their own affairs," said Olivia indignantly. "Oh dear me no," replied Lady Jabe calmly, "that would never do. A couple of babies, my dear Olivia, who need a firm hand. I'll look after them and receive a small sum for doing so. My late husband did not leave me well off," she went on confidentially, "so it is necessary that I should do the best for myself. But now, that's all settled and I'm glad you are pleased." "Not with your proposed arrangement, Lady Jabe." "Oh, yes you are, dear Olivia. Nothing could be better, whatever you may say. And now to talk of other and less pleasing matters. Miss Pewsey who robbed you of your inheritance, is about to leave Marport. Yes--you may look surprised: but she is selling Ivy Lodge and intends to go to America." "In search of the doctor?" asked Mrs. Ainsleigh doubtfully. "Quite so, I understand that Dr. Forge has gone there. But just think what a brazen women Miss Pewsey must be, to follow a man who left her--as you might say at the altar. Miss Pewsey is in London now making arrangements to sail for New York--so she told me yesterday. I wish her all joy," added Lady Jabe shaking her head, "but I fear the man will spend her money and leave her." When Lady Jabe went, Olivia thought over the projected departure of Miss Pewsey on the trail of Dr. Forge, She was glad at heart, that her enemy was leaving Marport, but could not help thinking that the bitter little woman, was going out of her way to make trouble, for herself. And as Forge was wanted, for participation in Markham Ainsleigh's murder, Olivia though, she would inform her husband of his whereabouts, so that he might be brought back if necessary. But Rupert listened thoughtfully, and then replied after consideration. "I won't move in the matter," he said calmly, "Forge behaved like a scoundrel, but as he has gone, I leave him in God's hands. He will get his deserts yet, Olivia." "Will you send him the ten thousand pounds, Rupert?" "No," said the young man decisively. "I shall certainly not do that. Forge deserves some punishment and shall have it, by being deprived of the money he sinned to obtain. He did not kill my poor father, but he certainly brought about his death indirectly. Leave him to God, Olivia. As for ourselves, we will get our own money from Lo-Keong, and restore the Abbey." "And Miss Pewsey's mortgage?" "It is due shortly before Christmas, and I shall be able to pay it off before then. Miss Pewsey has done her worst, Olivia. Henceforth she will be harmless." "And what about her punishment, Rupert?" "I should think the loss of Forge has punished her. And, if she really intends to follow him, she will be more disappointed. The man will not marry her. No, Olivia, Miss Pewsey also sinned to get money, but she will be punished, you may be certain." The next evening Rupert again assumed his old suit and heavy cloak and went away. Olivia clung to him as he left the door. "Oh my darling be careful," she said, "if you are killed--" "I won't be," Rupert assured her. "I have taken the precaution to write telling Rodgers of this meeting. He will bring, by my advice, a couple of plain-cloth policemen to Penter's Alley, and if there is trouble, both the Major and I will be able to get away." Comforted thus, Olivia kissed her husband, and saw him drive down the avenue. Then she returned to her room to count the moments, until he returned. All their troubles had brought Olivia and Rupert closer together, and in their implicit trust in one another, lay the elements of future happiness. Ainsleigh found the Major also plainly dressed, waiting at the station, and the two were speedily on their way to town. Owing to an accident to the train, they were late in arriving at Liverpool Street station and the Major fumed. "We won't be in time," he said when they went to the underground railway. "Oh, I think so," said Rupert calmly, "it's just as well, we should not be too early. I want Rodgers and his men to be on the spot." "But what do you think will come of all this?" asked Tidman, nervously. "I think we will find the papers." "But if Tung-yu had them, he would not have written to me." "He is playing some sort of game. I can't understand, and I have given up theorizing. Let us wait." The Major grumbled a little, but finally agreed that Ainsleigh was right. They soon arrived at Rotherhithe, and stepped out into the main street. The night was fine, and there was a bright moon. "I like this better than when I was here last," said Rupert, as the two went down to Penters' Alley. "It's a good thing there's a moon," said the Major casting a glance upward, "if these Chinamen try to bolt, we can chase them." "Do you expect Hwei to be there also?" "I can't say," said Tidman, "but if Tung-yu is, I suspect Hwei won't be far off. They work in couples as you know." "And pull against each other like ill-matched dogs," said Rupert, "a queer compact, this." "It's silly. I think the Mandarin must be mad with all this rubbish about his gim-crack god Kwang-ho. Here we are--and there's the lantern. What a narrow street." They stepped down the Alley in the bright moonlight. The lantern flared above the same house as Rupert had entered before, and at the door stood a small figure. It was the Chinese boy dressed in red. "Ah," said Rupert significantly, "Hwei is certainly here, as well as Tung-yu, We'll have trouble." "If Hwei tries to kill me, I'll shoot," said the Major, and produced a neat revolver. "I've held my life in my hands before now." Rupert was about to speak to the boy who stood silently before the closed door, when he heard a long agonised scream within the house. The boy smiled in a cruel manner, and Rupert tried to dash past. But the boy prevented him. Tidman, however, was more fortunate and flung himself against the door. Evidently, a tragedy was taking place inside. As the Major ran forward, the door opened suddenly and Burgh dashed out and down the street, towards the river. After him came Tung-yu, his face alive with fury. Tidman gave a shout, and made after the two, but Rupert, wondering who was being killed, sprang down the passage and entered the room, where formerly he had met with the adventure. A tall Chinaman was standing in the middle of the floor wiping a knife on his blouse. He turned, and Rupert beheld Hwei. The Chinaman pointed to the floor with a ghastly smile. "The doom of the god Kwang-ho," said he, and ran out of the house swiftly. Rupert cast his eyes on a body lying on the floor. It was that of a woman and from her breast a stream of blood was flowing. She was not yet dead, but looked up with a pain-drawn face. Ainsleigh drew back with an exclamation. It was Miss Pewsey. CHAPTER XXIII The Chase Rupert stared at the wounded woman amazed. How came Miss Pewsey into this den? He was so astonished, that he forgot to call for assistance. Miss Pewsey gave a moan and opened her eyes. At once she recognised Ainsleigh, for the light from the tasselled lantern overhead, fell full on his amazed face. "So you are safe," said Miss Pewsey with difficulty, "didn't Tung-yu kill you." "I have just arrived," said Rupert, "your nephew has gone out followed by Tung-yu." "I hope he'll catch him," muttered Miss Pewsey, "Tung-yu stabbed me. Clarence snatched the papers and ran away leaving me here to die." "How did you get the papers?" asked Rupert startled. "I got them from Clarence--he asked me to come up here, and--oh," she fell back insensible. Rupert thought she was dead and forgetting where he was, cried loudly for assistance. He heard footsteps approaching and Lo-Keong in sober attired entered. The stately Chinaman was roused out of his usual self. He appeared disturbed and his face was distorted. "Rodgers and his men are chasing Tung-yu," said Lo-Keong grasping Rupert's arm, "go after them. Tung-yu has the papers." "But Miss Pewsey." Lo-Keong started back. "That woman," he cried, as startled as Rupert had been, "pooh, let her die. She deserves her fate. She has been the cause of the trouble. Go--go, Mr. Ainsleigh--go after Tung-yu." "But Miss Pewsey!" repeated Rupert, seeing the woman open her eyes, and recognising that life yet remained. "I'll see to her. I'll get a doctor." Lo-Keong struck the gong near the door. "But get me those papers. All my life depends upon them. Remember--one hundred thousand pounds--go--go. It may be too late. Don't allow Tung-yu to escape." Rupert was quite bewildered as the Chinaman pushed him out of the door. Then, recognising that he could do nothing to help Miss Pewsey, and that Lo-Keong, for his own sake would do all he could to keep her alive, so that he might learn how the packet came into her possession, Rupert ran out of the house, and found the street filled with screaming Chinamen and chattering Europeans. Some policemen were coming down the alley from the main thoroughfare, and everyone appeared to be alarmed. The ragged mob rushed into various doors, at the sight of the officers, but the Chinamen still continued to cackle and scream. Suddenly Rupert heard a revolver shot, and wondered if the Major had got into trouble. Remembering that Burgh, with Tung-yu in pursuit, had gone down the alley towards the water, he raced in the same direction, and at once, two policemen, seeing him go, followed. There was no time to undeceive them, so Rupert ran on, eager to come up with Burgh. He had the papers, according to Miss Pewsey, and in spite of Lo-Keong's statement, Ainsleigh suspected that Miss Pewsey was right. Else Tung-yu would not be in pursuit of the buccaneers. As Rupert tore down the moonlit alley, he heard the high clear voice of the Mandarin calling on the police to stop. Then the tumult recommenced. It mattered little to Ainsleigh. As he raced blindly on, he felt a thrill of joy in his veins. It seemed to him that he had never lived before, and that this man-hunt was the climax of life. At the end of the Alley he came on a dilapidated wharf, which ran out into the turbid water, and saw a stout figure dancing on this. At once he hurried down to find Major Tidman, who recognised him at once. "There was a boat waiting," gasped the Major seizing Rupert's arm. "Burgh jumped into it and pushed off. Tung-yu came after, and as the boat was already in mid-stream he plunged into the water." "Where is Hwei?" "Rodgers and his men are after him. I fired a shot, and I believe, I hit Tung-yu, as he was swimming. Who has the papers?" "Burgh. Keep a look out for him. I'll run along the bank," and before the Major could expostulate, Ainsleigh dashed up the wharf and ran along the bank of the river. He did this because his quick eye had seen a black head bobbing in the water below the wharf. The swimmer was evidently making for the near shore. Rupert did not know if it was Tung-yu or Hwei, but hurried at top speed along the bank, in the hope of catching the man when he came ashore. He sped along a kind of narrow way, for here, the old houses of Rotherhithe came down, almost to the water's edge. There were lights in some of the windows, but for the most part, these were in darkness. To Rupert's left, loomed the house, and on his right was the river bank, shelving down to the glittering water. A few piles ran out into the stream, and as the river was low, there were acres of evil-smelling mud. The man was making for the bank and battling hard against the stream, which was sweeping him down. Rupert shouted, and seeing him on the bank, the swimmer seemed to stop, apparently dreading the reception he would get. Finally he resumed his stroke, and made for a wharf, some distance down. Ainsleigh ran for this, but was stopped by a wooden fence. He managed to climb over, and raced on to the wharf; but the swimmer was nowhere to be seen. Suddenly, Rupert caught sight of a figure crawling up the bank a little distance below, and again ran up the wharf to the pathway. The man who had landed caught sight of him, and leaping on to the hard path, ran along the river bank, but in a swaying manner, as though his powers of endurance were exhausted. Considering how hard he had battled with the current, probably the man's strength had given out and Rupert, feeling fresh and fit, thought he would have no difficulty in catching up. But the man ran hard, and then dropped out of sight below the bank. Apparently he had taken to the river again. Rupert raced down so quickly, as to overshoot the mark, where the man had slipped down. While looking round, he caught sight of him again. He ran up the bank and dodged into a narrow side street. Rupert was after him in a moment. The man had vanished round a corner--so Ainsleigh thought--but when Rupert came after, he saw the street in the moonlight was perfectly empty, and turned back. The fugitive had tricked him, by dodging into a dark corner, and was again on the bank. He leaped on the wharf, and scrambled down the piles to a boat which swung at the end of a long rope. While he hauled this in painfully, and pantingly, Rupert leaped on him. The man looked up with an oath, and closed with his pursuer. It was Burgh. "The papers--the papers," gasped Rupert, "you give them up." "I'll kill you first," said Burgh setting his teeth, and, exhausted as he was, he struggled with preternatural strength. The two men swung and swayed on the edge of the wharf, till Burgh tripped up his opponent and both fell into the water. Rupert still held his grip, and felt the body of Burgh grow heavy. He rose to the surface, dragging at the buccaneer, and, as the two had fallen into shallow water, Rupert staggered on to the evil-smelling mud. He was obliged to let go Burgh, who apparently, had been playing possum, for he rose to his feet and made a feeble attempt to climb the bank. Seeing this, Rupert, who was almost exhausted himself with the long pursuit and the cold doûche, struck out, and Burgh, with a cry of rage fell flat into the mud. The next moment Rupert was kneeling on his chest. "The papers, you scoundrel," he said between his teeth. "Haven't got them. Tung-yu----" "You lie. Give me those papers, or I'll tear your clothes off to find them." Burgh tried to utter a taunting laugh, but the effort was too much for his strength. He stopped suddenly, and with a sob closed his eyes. The body became inert, and as Rupert could see no wound, he concluded that the buccaneer had fainted. At once he removed his knee, and began his search. He went deliberately through the pockets of the insensible man, and finally came across a packet bound in red brocade. It was in Burgh's breast, next to the skin. Rupert, with this in his hand, rose with a gasp of relief. He had the papers after all, and now, could hope to get the money from the Mandarin. He slipped the important packet into his pocket, and then producing a flask of brandy, he forced a few drops between the clenched teeth of his antagonist. He did not wish the man to die, and moreover, he was desirous of questioning him. In a few moments Burgh opened his eyes. "You," he said, as soon as he recovered his scattered senses, and he made an effort to rise. "No you don't," said Rupert pushing him back, "you'll try and reach for your revolver." "Go slow," muttered Burgh, lying on his back in the mud. "I give in, Ainsleigh. You've won." "I've got the papers, if that's what you mean. They shall be given to Lo-Keong." "And you'll get the five thousand." "I'll get one hundred thousand," said Rupert, keeping a watchful eye on his late opponent. "Huh," said Burgh with a groan, "what luck. And all I have got, is a ducking. Let me up and give me some more brandy. Remember, I saved your life from Forge, Ainsleigh." "Quite so, and you tried to kill me just now," said Rupert dryly. "I think we are quits. However, here's the brandy, and you can sit up. No treachery mind, or I'll shoot you," and Rupert pulled out his Derringer. The buccaneer gave a grunt and sat up with an effort. "I'm not up to a row," he gasped. "There's no fight left in me. Great Scott, to think I was so near success. I'll be poor for the rest of my life, I guess." "You'll be hanged for the murder of Miss Wharf, you mean." Burgh took a deep draught of the brandy, which put new life into his veins. He actually grinned when he took the flask from his lips. "I reckon that's not my end," said he. "I never killed the old girl. No sir--not such a flat." "Then who did kill her?" "Find out," was the ungracious response. "See here, Burgh," said Rupert, swinging himself on to a pile of the wharf. "I mean to get to the bottom of this business, once and for all. The papers shall be given to the Marquis and then, I hope, we shall hear the last of this fan business. But I must know who killed--" "There--there," said Burgh with a shrug, and after another drink, "I cave in: you've got the bulge on me. But I guess, if you want to keep those papers, you'd best clear out, Tung-yu will be along soon looking for them. I leaped into a boat and pushed out, but that Chinese devil swam after, and when I got into trouble with the oars, he climbed on board with a long knife. I jumped over-board and made for the bank, where you raced me down. But I guess Tung-yu will bring that craft of his ashore, and he's hunting for me like a dog as he is." "Rodgers, and Hwei, and Lo-Keong, and a lot of policemen are hunting for Tung-yu," said Rupert coolly, "so you need give yourself no further trouble. Tell me why you killed Miss Wharf?" "I didn't, confound you," growled Burgh. "Then you know who did?" "Yes--it was Forge." "That's a lie. Forge wrote to my wife, and denied that you gave him the tie." "Then Tidman killed the old girl." "No. He was with me on the beach. Come now, you shan't get off in this way. Tell me who is guilty?" "If I do, will you let me go?" "I make no bargains. Out with it." Burgh looked black, but being tired out and at the mercy of Rupert's revolver, he growled sulkily, "It was Aunt Lavinia." "Miss Pewsey--that frail little woman--impossible." "Frail," echoed the Buccaneer with scorn, "she's as tough as hickory and as wicked a little devil as ever breathed. Why, she learned about the fan from Forge when he was delirious, and gave away the show to Lo-Keong in China--" "I know that. And she wished Olivia to have the fan, that she might be killed." "That's so, you bet. But old Wharf got it, and so, was killed." "But not by Tung-yu, or Hwei." "No." Burgh took a final drink, and having emptied the flask, flung it into the river. Then he took out a cigarette, which was dry enough to light. When smoking, he began to laugh. "Well this is a rum show," said he. "I guess you've got all the fun. I'm sold proper." "Tell me your story," said Rupert imperatively, "I want to get back to Penter's Alley to see your aunt." "Oh, I guess she's a goner by this time," said Burgh easily, "Tung-yu knifed her." "You mean Hwei. I found him wiping the knife." "No. Tung-yu stuck her, and dropped the knife. Aunty was just passing the packet to Hwei, when Tung-yu stabbed her. I reckon he intended to grab the packet, but I was too sharp for him, and caught it away from his hand. Then I raced out and he after me. Hwei stayed behind to clean the knife, I reckon." "No, he followed you two almost immediately." "Then both Chinamen will be here soon. You'd best cut." "Not till I learn the truth." "I've told you the truth," snapped Burgh, in a weary voice. "My old aunt strangled Miss Wharf. Yes. Aunty told me of the tie, and asked me to get it for her. I didn't know what she wanted to do with it, so I did. I took it out of your pocket when Dalham was out of the room. Then I gave it to aunty. She told Miss Wharf that Tung-yu wanted to see her on the steps, after eleven. Miss Wharf went there and then aunty followed and sat down beside her on the steps. I guess she kept her in talk and then slipped the tie round her old throat and pulled with all her might. And she's strong, I can tell you," added Clarence confidentially. "She nearly broke my arm one day twisting it. Miss Wharf hadn't time to call out, and was a deader in two minutes, for aunty froze on to her like death." "Death indeed," murmured Rupert with a shudder. "Well then aunty bucked up round by the front of the hotel with the fan in her pocket and left the tie round the neck of the old girl, so that _you_ might hang. All went well, but the next day I went to aunty and asked for the fan. She was very sick, as she intended to sell it that day to Tung-yu. But Tung-yu had cut along with Hwei in the yacht, both thinking they might be accused of the murder. They thought that old Tidman did the biznai," grinned Burgh, "and I let them think so, having my own game to play with aunty." "Well," said Ainsleigh shortly, "and what did you do?" "I told aunty I'd split if I didn't get the fan, so she passed it along to me. Then I learned about the secret from Tung-yu--the waving in the smoke you know. I found out the kind of smoke from Forge--" "And repaid him by a lying accusation." "That's so," said Burgh coolly, "there ain't no flies on me. But let's heave ahead. It's cold sitting here." "Go on then," said Ainsleigh sharply. "Well I learned about the picture, and guessed about the abbey. The picture was plain enough. I came that day you found me, to see the place." "And stole the packet then?" "No, I waited till night and rigged myself up as the Abbot. I knew it would make anyone sick who saw a monk about at that hour." "Not me," said Ainsleigh, "if I had caught you----" "Well you very nearly did," confessed Burgh candidly, "I came at night and climbed all four trees before I nipped the box. Then I prized it open and climbed down leaving the box, so that Lo-Keong might get sold when he came to look. Just as I got down, that old housekeeper of yours screeched, and cut. I was startled, and dropped the fan. Not wishing to leave that behind, I began to look for it. Then you and the butler turned up and I lighted out sharp." "What happened next?" "Well I wanted the money, but not knowing the days of Hwei and Tung-yu, thought I might get stabbed, instead of the money. So I took the packet to Aunty, and asked her to go up, telling her Tung-yu would give her the money. She fell into the trap." "But she knew that Hwei--" "It wasn't Hwei's day," said Burgh, "at least it turned out so, though I didn't know it at the time, and so sent on Aunty to get the cash. I intended to pull the dollars out of her when she did get them, or leave her to die if Hwei knifed her." "You blackguard." "Go slow," said Burgh coolly, "aunty was no friend to you. I say, do you know why aunty wanted me to marry Olivia. It was because I'm married already and if--" He got no further. Rupert knocked him backwards into the mud. Burgh leaped to his feet, and suddenly cried, "Look behind." Rupert did so very foolishly, and Burgh flung himself forward. But all the same Burgh was right to warn Ainsleigh. A man was staggering along the wharf. He was in Chinese dress. "Knife him, Tung-yu," cried Burgh, struggling with Rupert, "I'll hold him. He's got the papers." The Chinaman gave a screech and hurled himself on the pair. Rupert wrenched himself away from Burgh and struck out at Tung-yu. At the same moment he heard another cry, and Hwei came leaping down the wharf. Before Tung-yu could turn, his enemy was on him, and as Rupert was again closing in death grips with Burgh, he had no time to see what was taking place. He could hear the Chinamen snarling like angry cats on the wharf, and was himself fighting in the mud with Burgh for his life. Luckily Rupert got his hand free and it was the one which held the revolver. He fired at random--three shots. There was a shout in the distance: but at that moment, the buccaneer seized him by the throat and threw him down. Rupert with a strangled cry felt himself being forced beneath the water, and thought the end had come. He could hear the struggle between Hwei and Tung-yu going on furiously, and hear also very faintly the deep laughter of his opponent. Then he lost consciousness. Everything became dark, and Rupert's last thought was that all his pains had been in vain. He would die, and Olivia would be a widow. CHAPTER XXIV The Fulfilled Prophecy When Rupert came to his senses, the surroundings seemed to be familiar. He had lost consciousness on the banks of the Thames, and during a fierce struggle with a treacherous foe. He opened his eyes to find himself in his own bed in his own room at Royabay. But he felt strangely weak and indisposed to talk. After a glance, he closed his eyes again. Then, after what seemed to him to be a few minutes--it was really half an hour--he opened them again, and this time he saw Olivia bending over him with an anxious face. "Dearest," he murmured weakly. "Oh Rupert, do you know me?" "Yes. Where am I--what are you doing here?" "You are at the Abbey. Don't speak. Take this," and some beef tea was held to his dry lips. Ainsleigh drank a little and then fell asleep again. When he did so there was an artificial light in the room, but when he woke the sun was streaming in through the window. But his wife was still beside his bed, and still looked anxious. However, she gave a little cry of joy when Rupert spoke in a stronger voice. He was beginning to collect his scattered senses. "Have I been ill long?" he asked. "Four days," she replied, "don't talk, darling." "But the packet?" "The Marquis has it safe." "Burgh?" "He has escaped. Don't talk." "Miss Pewsey," said Rupert faintly. "She is dead." "Then Miss Pewsey _did_ strangle your aunt." "Yes--yes--the doctor says you are not to talk." "Just one more question. Those Chinamen?" "Hwei and Tung-yu. They were drowned." Rupert smiled weakly, and turning on his side went off into a deep sleep. The doctor who called later, said it was the best thing he could do. "He has had a severe shock," said he to Olivia, "and his nervous system is shaken. You may be thankful he did not wake with a disordered brain." "Oh, doctor, you don't think--" "No! No! It's all right. He would not have asked those questions if anything was wrong with his mind. In a few weeks he will be quite himself. But I think, Mrs. Ainsleigh, that you should take him abroad for a time." Olivia gladly promised to do this, the more so, as she wanted to escape herself from Marport for a time. The news of Miss Pewsey's death had caused a great sensation, and a still greater one was caused by the publication in the paper of her crime. Everyone, now knew that the bitter little woman had strangled Miss Wharf, and everyone was very severe on her. The funeral had to be conducted quietly, as the mob showed signs of intending to interrupt. However, the police kept back the irate crowd, and Miss Pewsey was buried in a quiet corner of St. Peter's church-yard, where a few weeks before, she had hoped to be married. But her intended bridegroom was in America, and Miss Pewsey's mortal part was in the grave. Where her immortal soul was and what would become of it, was talked over by people, who were less forgiving than they ought to have been. Ainsleigh recovered his strength quicker then the doctor thought he would. Olivia nursed him with devoted tenderness, and often wept as she thought how nearly she had lost him. When Rupert was better able to hear the recital, she gave him a short account of his rescue. "Those three shots you fired brought up Rodgers and his men, who were searching for Hwei and Tung-yu. They came, just in time to pull Mr. Burgh off you. He was holding you down under the water, and Mr. Rodgers thought you were dead. However the doctor was called, and they brought you round. Then I was telegraphed for, and I insisted that you should be taken back to Royabay. I had my way, although the doctor in London said it would be dangerous. So here you are, darling, in your own home, and soon will be all right." "Thanks to your nursing," said Ainsleigh, kissing her, "but Olivia, tell me about Miss Pewsey." "She made a confession before she died," said Mrs. Ainsleigh, "oh Rupert, even though she is dead, I can't help saying, that she was a wicked little woman." "Wicked indeed," said Rupert, recalling what Burgh had said, "she wished you to marry Burgh, because he was married already." "In which case he would have deserted me," said Mrs. Ainsleigh with a crimson face, "he was as bad as she. But listen, Rupert, if you feel strong enough." "Go on," said Ainsleigh, and held his wife's hand while she talked. "Well, then," began Mrs. Ainsleigh, "after the Marquis pushed you out of the Penter's Alley room, he went and got a doctor, who said that Miss Pewsey was dying. She heard him, having regained her senses, and then began to cry, saying how wicked she had been. For the sake of everyone, Lo-Keong asked her to make a confession. As soon as she knew there was no hope of her recovery, she agreed to do so. A clergyman was called in, and he took down what she said. The confession was witnessed and signed, and Mr. Rodgers has it." "What did she confess?" asked Rupert. "Oh," Olivia covered her face, "it was really awful. She said that she was always jealous of Aunt Sophia, and of me. She wished to get the five hundred a year. At first she thought she would get it by marrying me to her nephew, and then she could finger the money, when my aunt died. But she soon saw that I was not to be guided in the way she desired, and cast about for a new plan." "But, Olivia, if she knew Burgh was married----" "Oh, that didn't matter to her. She intended he should marry me and then if I got the money she intended to say there was no marriage, unless I gave her the five hundred a year. She wished to disgrace me. "A kind of blackmail, in fact." "Yes. But I can't understand, how she intended to reckon with Mr. Burgh, who is not an easy person to deal with. Well Rupert, when she found that I would not marry Mr. Burgh, she tried to get a new will made. She did not succeed for a long time. Meanwhile, she heard about the fan and wrote to Lo-Keong. When she saw the advertisement she was alarmed, thinking Aunt Sophia would be killed before the new will was made. Luckily for her, she overheard about our secret marriage and told Aunt Sophia, who made a new will, and who intended, after the ball, to turn me out of the house. "But your aunt was so kind to you at that time." "So as to make things harder for me," said Olivia sadly, "poor Aunt Sophia, she was quite under the thumb of Miss Pewsey, who really did hypnotise her--at least she confessed she had power over her in the confession. But I don't think it was difficult to get Aunt Sophia to alter her will, seeing she hated you so, and could not bear to think that the five hundred a year, should go to the son of the man, she thought, had scorned her." "That was not true: my father--" "Yes! Yes! I know. Don't talk too much, Rupert you are weak yet. But let me go on," added Olivia, passing her hand over her husband's forehead. "Well then, when the new will was made, Miss Pewsey let Tung-yu know that Aunt Sophia would have the fan at the ball. She didn't know whether Tung-yu or Hwei was to kill the possessor of the fan, and when she learned that Aunt Sophia was to sell the fan next day, she was very angry." "Why. With her influence she could have got the money." "Not all to herself, and besides she wanted the five hundred a year, and Aunt Sophia out of the way. Moreover, that scarf I knitted for you gave her a chance of throwing the blame on you. She got Clarence to get it, and then lured Miss Wharf--my aunt--to the steps where she strangled her." "Yes. Burgh told me. I know the rest. Her nephew made her give up the fan, learned the secret, and stole the packet. Then he made his aunt take it to Penter's Alley." Olivia nodded. "And Miss Pewsey thought she would get the money, as Burgh said it was Tung-yu's hour." "So it was. He spoke truly enough, although he didn't risk giving up the packet himself. Well." "But Tung-yu killed Miss Pewsey after all. She asked twenty thousand pounds and refused to give it for less. Clarence Burgh who had come up with her, came into the room with Hwei, who saw the packet pass, but could not interfere." "Because it wasn't his hour." "Yes. And all would have been well, had not Tung-yu suddenly disobeyed the god Kwang-ho's commands and stabbed Miss Pewsey. Of course, Hwei was released from his oath by this act and tried to get the packet. But Clarence Burgh snatched it from both and ran away. Tung-yu went after him, and then Hwei followed, after wiping the knife. Then--" "I know the rest. I got the packet from Burgh." "Yes, and he tried to drown you. Hwei and Tung-yu were struggling together, as Tung-yu wanted to get the packet from you. But Hwei stabbed him with the same knife he had used to kill Miss Pewsey, and in his death grip, Tung-yu drew Hwei into the water. Both were dead and still locked in each other's embrace when they were drawn out. Lo-Keong said that Tung-yu deserved his doom for having trifled with Kwang-ho, but he mourns for Hwei." "It seems to be much of a muchness," said Rupert, "and Burgh?" "Rodgers threw himself on him, and he was secured. You were taken away, and I was telegraphed for. But while Burgh was being taken to prison he contrived to escape, and got away in the darkness." "But Olivia, it was a bright, moonlight night." "At first it was, but the moon set and darkness came on. The police have been searching for Burgh, but he has not been found, and it is supposed he has got away from England." "I hope so," said Rupert with a shudder. "I never wish to set eyes on him again. So that's the end of it all." "Not quite. Lo-Keong is in the library with Mr. Asher. Oh, Rupert, you must prepare yourself for the best of news." The young man rose, and was led downstairs by his wife, "I am quite ready to hear the good news," he said, as they descended. "I have had far too much bad news in my life." As Olivia said, the lawyer was waiting in the library, and stood before the fire with an expectant face. Lo-Keong, in even more gorgeous robes than he had worn on the occasion of his first visit, was seated in his stately manner near the window. He rose as the master of Royabay entered, and came forward with a serious smile. "My young friend," said the Mandarin. "I have to thank you for saving my life. The papers which would have ruined me, and which would have cost me my head, have been burnt. Hwei is dead, and Tung-yu; so no one but yourself knows what those papers meant. My august mistress will never have proof that I was engaged in the Boxer rebellion, and Hop Sing will be degraded for ever." "And you, Marquis?" "I shall receive the yellow jacket," said the Mandarin, proudly, "now I remain but a short time here, I go to London in an hour, and this evening I leave for the Continent on my way to China. We shall never meet again Mr. Ainsleigh, unless you come to Pekin." "No," said Olivia, instinctively protecting Rupert, "we have had enough of China, Marquis. Sit down, Rupert." Ainsleigh took a chair, and the Marquis smiled blandly. "Well, well, well," he said, "it is natural you should feel rather nervous of my countrymen, though I assure you, if you do visit me, that you will be quite safe and highly honoured." "No, thank you Marquis," said Rupert wearily, for he was beginning to feel fatigued. "I see you are tired," said Lo-Keong, in his stately manner, "sol will merely say I hope to send you some presents from my own country, and then Mr. Asher can speak," he bowed to the solicitor. "I am glad to tell Mr. Ainsleigh," said the lawyer, "that the Marquis has handed me securities which show that the sum of one hundred thousand pounds is invested in your name. We can transfer the securities to English investments if you like but--" "I'll leave them in Chinese," said Rupert quickly. Lo-Keong bowed in a gratified manner. "You will be wise," he said, "they are safe investments and all my interest at the Imperial court, will go to make you richer, if I can." "You have done enough. Marquis," said Ainsleigh gratefully, "you have given me back my old home." "And we will be rich besides," said Olivia delightedly. "There's another thing," said Mr. Asher, looking at the girl, "Miss Pewsey made a will in your favour, Mrs. Ainsleigh." Olivia drew back with a red face. "Impossible! She hated me." "Well," said Asher dryly, "I expect she repented of her evil deeds, or perhaps she hated her nephew more than she did you. That gentleman wrote from a Continental address to Mr. Paster asking if his aunt had left him the money as she promised. I expect the address is a false one, as Mr. Burgh won't wish to be caught." "He is a bold man that," said Lo-Keong. "He is," assented Asher, "but he won't benefit. Mrs. Ainsleigh gets the five hundred a year, the freehold of Ivy Lodge, and also the mortgage which Miss Wharf bought to ruin Mr. Ainsleigh." "We have everything--everything," cried Olivia. "I am very thankful," said Rupert. "Mr. Asher--" "I'll see you about the investments when you are stronger," said the lawyer, "meanwhile here is the carriage at the door. The Marquis is kind enough to give me a lift," and Mr. Asher took his leave, with a profound bow, to so opulent a client as Rupert. The Marquis Lo-Keong came forward with his kind smile. "Before I wish you good-bye and all happiness," he said, holding out the famous fan, "will you take this?" "No," said Olivia, preventing Rupert from accepting it, "I hate the very sight of the thing. It has blood on it." "I think you are right, Mrs. Ainsleigh," said the Chinaman gravely, "and, as it has done its duty, it may as well go the way of the packet which now is ashes," and advancing to the fire, he flung the fan on the burning coals. It burst into a blaze, and in a few minutes all had vanished save the slivers of jade and the beads. The housemaid collected these next morning and gave them to Olivia, who threw them off the Marport pier. So that was the end of the Mandarin's fan. "And now," said Lo-Keong, bowing, "good-bye, and great happiness to you both." Rupert and Olivia shook hands warmly, and thanked him heartily. The Mandarin walked out of the room in his stately way, and they went to the window to see him drive off. At the bend of the avenue, he waved his hand graciously, and that was the last the master and mistress of Royabay saw of the man who had owned the fan. A chuckle at the door made the couple turn from the window. There, peering in, stood Mrs. Petley, who had stuck with her husband to Rupert during his troubles. Her face was shining, and old John seemed to be years younger. Mrs. Petley, for some queer reason, threw a shoe at the pair. "Health and happiness," she said, "begging your pardons both. But to think of money and happiness, and no walking of that blessed monk, who--" "He never walked," said Rupert smiling, "it was Hwei--" "Begging your pardon, sir, Hwei--whosoever he is, didn't walk _all_ the time. Abbot Raoul did appear, as I can testify, and so can John here. But now the prophecy has been fulfilled, perhaps he'll rest quiet in his grave, drat him." "The prophecy?" said Olivia, who was holding her husband's hand. From behind Mrs. Petley came the quavering voice of the ancient butler, declaiming the rude rhymes:-- "My curse from the tyrants will never depart, For a sword in the hands of the angel flashes: Till Ainsleigh poor, weds the poor maid of his heart, And gold be brought forth from the holy ashes." "And that's quite true," said a jovial voice, and Major Tidman, as smart and stout as ever, entered. "How do, Ainsleigh, I'm glad to see you looking so well. Yes," he added, sitting down, "you _were_ poor Ainsleigh when you married--" "And I was poor also," cried Olivia. "Very good, the third line is fulfilled and the fourth--" "Was gold brought forth from the holy ashes?" asked Rupert. "Yes, Master Rupert," said old John, "you picked up the fan in the place where the ashes were, and out of the fan has come gold. The prophecy is fulfilled, sure enough, and I hope Abbot Raoul will stop walking for ever." "Of course he will," cried Mrs. Petley, dragging her husband outside, "there's no more trouble for you, Master Rupert and Miss Olivia." "Mr. and Mrs. Ainsleigh, of Royabay," said Tidman, laughing, "give them their proper titles, Mrs. Petley. And I think the present occasion deserves a bottle of port." The ancient butler went away with his wife, to bring forth one of the last bottles of that priceless vintage. Major Tidman, gloating in anticipation, sat still, and smiled with a bland face. But Rupert drew Olivia to the sofa, and they sat down where they had often mourned on many a weary day. "Dearest," said Ainsleigh, kissing her. "We can be happy now," said Olivia putting her arms round his neck, "for we are rich. We shall take again our proper place in the county." "We are rich and we are happy," echoed the master of Royabay. "Ha! ha! You have one hundred thousand pounds, Ainsleigh," said Tidman. "I have something better." "What's that?" "My own dear wife, Olivia Ainsleigh." The End __________________________________________________________ _The Anchor Press, Ltd., Tiptree Heath, Kelvedon, Essex_. 
36346	----	Transcriber's Note. Every effort has been made to replicate this text as faithfully as possible, however it should be noted that this text contains extremely non-standard and erratic punctuation, capitalization, and spelling. In most places these errata have been transcribed as printed. There is a listing of the major changes at the end of this document. All changes were made with the objective of maintaining the author's original intent and to more easily allow you, the reader, to understand this novel. [Illustration: [_Frontispiece_ "WELL, SAIL IN. WE'RE READY FOR THE PLAY." (_page_ 198)] POPULAR NOVELS BY FERGUS HUME Author of 'The Mystery of a Hansom Cab,' etc. In Crown 8vo, pictorial cloth. Price 6s. each. THE RED WINDOW =Second Impression= 'For a skilfully conceived plot, succession of stirring incidents and series of surprises, not one of Mr. Fergus Hume's books is surpassed by "The Red Window." ... Is the best book of the kind issued this season.'--_Newcastle Daily Journal._ THE YELLOW HOLLY =Third Edition= 'A story of thrilling interest.'--_To-Day._ 'An exciting detective story.'--_Academy._ A COIN OF EDWARD VII. =Third Edition= 'A clever detective story. The book holds one spellbound to the end.'--_Yorkshire Herald._ THE CRIME OF THE CRYSTAL =Third Edition= 'Mr. Fergus Hume once more shows his skill in weaving an intricate plot which holds the reader enthralled until the last line. If this book were judged upon its merits it should obtain a popularity even greater than "The Mystery of a Hansom Cab."'--_Court Circular._ THE PAGAN'S CUP =Third Edition= 'For the lover of mystery the author of the "Mystery of a Hansom Cab" has prepared a feast in his new book. The story is beyond doubt enthralling, and will in every case be read at a sitting.'--_Glasgow Herald._ THE RED-HEADED MAN =Third Edition= 'Is perhaps the best piece of work that Mr. Fergus Hume has given us since he wrote "The Mystery of a Hansom Cab." The plot is very ingenious. Devoid of suspicion of padding, brightly and smoothly written, Mr. Fergus Hume's latest tale contains not a single dull chapter.'--_World._ 'A highly ingenious and well-constructed tale.'--_Scotsman._ SHYLOCK OF THE RIVER =Fifth Edition= 'Quite the most brilliant detective story Mr. Hume has given us since he made such a remarkable hit in "The Mystery of a Hansom Cab."'--_Literary World._ THE MASQUERADE MYSTERY =Third Edition= 'Is as good as, if not better than, "The Mystery of a Hansom Cab." ... It is an excellent story.'--_World._ =In Crown 8vo, Cloth, 2s. 6d. Cheap Edition= A MARRIAGE MYSTERY 'Is ingeniously put together.... Mr. Hume's new book is good of its kind.'--_Athenæum._ 'The plot is very clever and well worked out'--_Vanity Fair._ London: DIGBY, LONG & Co., 18 Bouverie Street, Fleet St., E.C. THE MANDARIN'S FAN by FERGUS HUME AUTHOR OF "THE MYSTERY OF A HANSOM CAB," ETC. _SECOND EDITION_ LONDON DIGBY, LONG & CO. 18 BOUVERIE STREET, FLEET STREET, E.C. 1905 CONTENTS CHAPTER. PAGE. I. THE ADVERTISEMENT 1 II. DR. FORGE 13 III. MISS WHARF AT HOME 27 IV. RUPERT'S SECRET 40 V. CONCERNING THE FAN 53 VI. BURGH'S STORY 65 VII. THE WARNING 78 VIII. THE BEGINNING OF THE BALL 90 IX. THE END OF THE BALL 104 X. A MYSTERIOUS CASE 118 XI. THE CANTON ADVENTURE 132 XII. AT THE INQUEST 147 XIII. THE WILL 160 XIV. A MYSTERIOUS LETTER 172 XV. THE ROTHERHITHE DEN 185 XVI. THE FAN MYSTERY 196 XVII. A DISAPPEARANCE 208 XVIII. A SURPRISE 220 XIX. A VISITOR 232 XX. THE MANDARIN EXPLAINS 244 XXI. WHO IS GUILTY? 259 XXII. AFTER-EVENTS 274 XXIII. THE CHASE 287 XXIV. THE FULFILLED PROPHECY 300 THE MANDARIN'S FAN THE MANDARIN'S FAN CHAPTER I THE ADVERTISEMENT One July evening in the first year of the present century, two gentlemen were seated on the terrace of the mansion, known as Royabay. A small rose-wood table was placed between the deep arm-chairs, and thereon appeared wine, coffee, and a box of cigars. The young host smoked a briar and sipped coffee, but his guest, very wisely, devoted himself to superlative port and a fragrant cigar. Major Tidman was a battered old soldier of fortune, who appreciated good quarters and made the most of civilised luxuries, when other people paid for them. He had done full justice to a dinner admirably cooked and served, while Ainsleigh, the master of the feast had merely trifled with his food. Now, the wary Tidman gave himself up to the perfect enjoyment of wine, cigar and the quiet evening, while his host restlessly changed his position a dozen times in ten minutes and gloomed misanthropically at the beautiful surroundings. And these were very beautiful. From the moss-grown terrace shallow steps descended to smooth lawns and rainbow-hued flower-beds, and solemn pines girdled the open space, wherein the house was set. And under the radiance of a saffron coloured sky, stood the house, grey with centuries of wind and weather, bleaching sun and drenching rains. With its Tudor battlements, casements, diamond-paned and low oriel windows, half obliterated escutcheons; its drapery of green ivy, and heavy iron-clamped doors, it looked venerable, picturesque and peaceful. Tennyson sang in the Palace of Art of just such a quiet "English home the haunt of ancient peace." On the left, the circle of trees receded to reveal the majestic ruins of an abbey, which had supplied the stones used to construct the mansion. Built by the weak but pious Henry III., the Norman-French name Royabbaye (King's Abbey) still designated the house of the courtier who had obtained the monastery from another Henry, less pious, and more prone to destroy than to build. The country folk had corrupted the name to Royabay, and its significance was almost lost. But the owner of this fair domain knew its meaning, and loved the ancient place, which had been in the Ainsleigh family for over three hundred years. And he loved it the more, as there was a possibility of its passing away from him altogether. Rupert was the last of the old line, poor in relations, and poorer still in money. Till the reign of George the first the Ainsleighs had been rich and famous: but from the time of the Hanovarian advent their fortunes declined. Charles Ainsleigh had thrown in his lot with the unlucky Stewarts, and paid for his loyalty so largely as to cripple those who succeeded him. Augustus, the Regency buck, wasted still further the diminished property he inherited, and a Victorian Ainsleigh proved to be just such another spendthrift. Followed this wastrel, Gilbert more thrifty, who strove, but vainly, to restore the waning fortunes of his race. His son Markham, endeavouring to acquire wealth for the same purpose, went to the far East. But he died in China,--murdered according to family tradition,--and on hearing the news, his widow sickened and died, leaving an only child to battle with the ancestral curse. For a curse there was, as dire as that which over-shadowed the House of Atreus, and the superstitious believed,--and with much reason,--that young Rupert as one of the Ainsleighs, had to bear the burden of the terrible anathema. Major Tidman knew all these things very well, but being modern and sceptical and grossly material, he discredited such occult influence. Expressing his scornful surprise, that Rupert should trouble his head about such fantasies, he delivered his opinion in the loud free dictatorial speech, which was characteristic of the bluff soldier. "Bunkum," said the Major sipping his wine with relish, "because an old monk driven to his last fortifications, curses those who burnt him, you believe that his jabber has an effect on the Ainsleighs." "They have been very unlucky since," said Rupert gloomily. "Not a bit of it--not a bit. The curse of Abbot Raoul, didn't begin to work,--if work it did, which I for one don't believe,--until many a long day after this place came to your family. I was born in this neighbourhood sixty and more years ago," added the Major, "and I know the history of your family. The Ainsleighs were lucky enough till Anne's reign." "Till the first George's reign," corrected the young man, "so far as money goes, that is. But not one of them died in his bed." "Plenty have died in their beds since." "But have lost all their money," retorted Rupert. "It's better to lose money than life," said Tidman evasively. "I'm not so certain of that Major. But you should talk with Mrs. Pettley about Abbot Raoul's curse. She believes in it." "And you Ainsleigh?" Rupert shrugged his shoulders. "We certainly seem to be most unlucky," said he, declining to commit himself to an opinion. "Want of brains," snapped the Major, who was one of those men who have a reason for everything, "your people wasted their money, and refused to soil their hands with trade. Such pig-headedness brings about misfortune, without the aid of a silly old fool's curse." "I don't think Abbot Raoul was a fool," protested the host mildly, "on the contrary, he is said to have been a learned and clever man. Aymas Ainsleigh, received the abbey from Henry VIII., and burnt Abbot Raoul in his own cloisters," he nodded towards the ruins, "you can see the blackened square of grass yonder, as a proof of the curse. Herbage will not grow there, and never will, till the curse be lifted." "Huh," said the Major with supreme contempt, "any chance of that?" Rupert smiled. "A chance that will never occur I fear. The curse, or prophecy, or whatever you like to call it----" "I call it rubbish," interpolated the sceptic. "Well doubting Thomas, it runs like this,--rude enough verse as you will see, but you can't expect a doomed man to be particular as to literary style," and Rupert recited slowly:-- "My curse from the tyrants will never depart, For a sword in the hands of the angel flashes: Till Ainsleigh, poor, weds the poor maid of his heart, And gold be brought forth from the holy ashes." "I spare you the ancient pronunciation Major." Tidman filled another glass with wine, and laughed scornfully. "I expect the old monk made up the second line to rhyme with ashes," he said expanding his broad chest. "I've heard that rubbishy poetry before. But haven't the Ainsleighs always married poor girls?" "Some did, but then they had money. It must be a poor Ainsleigh to wed a poor girl to fulfil the third line. My father and grandfather were both poor, but they married rich brides." "And what became of the cash?" "It went--I don't know how--but it went." "Gold turns to dry leaves in the hands of fools," said Tidman sagely, "there's some sense in the old fairy tales. But the fourth line? how can you get gold from ashes?" Young Ainsleigh rose and began to pace the terrace. "I'm sure I don't know," he said, "that's the curse. If I marry Miss Rayner, I certainly fulfil the third line. She is poor and I am a pauper. Perhaps when the enigma of the third line is solved by such a marriage the fourth line will be made clear." "I shouldn't hang on to that poetry if I were you, Ainsleigh. Let some one else solve the third line, and the fourth also if he likes. My advice to you is to marry a dollar heiress." Rupert looked savage. "I love Miss Rayner, and I marry her, or no one." Tidman selected another cigar carefully. "I think you are wrong," said he decisively, "you have only a small income it's true, but you have this grand old place, a fine old name, and you ain't bad-looking. I guess Miss Jonathan of N'Yr'k would just jump at you." "I love Olivia Rayner," repeated Ainsleigh doggedly. "But the obstacles my dear Don Quixote," argued the Major lighting the cigar, "you are poor and she, at the most, will inherit only a few hundreds a year from that aunt of hers. And that mass of granite Miss Wharf, don't like you, nor does her companion, the Pewsey cat." "Why do you call her a cat--the harmless creature." "Because she _is_ a cat," said Tidman sturdily, "she'd scratch if she got a chance for all her velvet paws. But she hates you as old Miss Wharf does. Then there's Lady Jabe--" "Oh heavens," said Rupert and made a wry face. "You may well say that. She's a bullying Amazon of uncertain age. But she'll do her best to catch Olivia for her nephew Chris Walker." "Oh he's a nice enough fellow," said Rupert still pacing the terrace. "I've got nothing to say against him, except that he'd better keep out of my way. And after all Olivia would never marry a clerk in a tea-merchant's firm." "But he's nephew to Lady Jabe." "What of that. She's only the widow of a knight and hasn't a penny to leave him. Why should she want him to marry Olivia?" "Because Miss Wharf will leave Olivia five hundred a year. Lady Jabe will then live on the young couple. And see here Ainsleigh, if you marry Olivia with that income, you won't be taking to wife the poor girl mentioned in the curse." "Oh hang the curse," said Rupert crossly. "By all means," said Tidman serenely, "you didn't bring me here to talk of that did you?" "No. I want to ask your advice?" "I've given it--unasked. Marry a dollar-heiress, and let old Jabe make Olivia her niece-in-law. By doing so you will be released from your pecuniary difficulties, and will also escape the hatred of Miss Wharf and that Pewsey cat, who both hate you." "I wonder why they do?" "Hum," said Tidman discreetly. He knew pretty well why Miss Wharf hated his host, but he was too wise to speak, "something to do with a love affair." "What's that got to do with me?" "Ask me another," replied Major Tidman vulgarly, for he was not going to tell a fiery young man like Rupert, that Markham Ainsleigh, Rupert's father, was mixed up in the romance, "and I wish you would sit down," he went on irritably "you're walking like a cat on hot bricks. What's the matter with you?" "What's the matter," echoed Ainsleigh returning to the arm-chair. "I asked you here to tell you." "Wait till I have another glass. Now fire ahead." But Rupert did not accept the invitation immediately. He looked at the lovely scene spread out before him, and up to the sky which was now of a pale primrose colour. There was a poetic vein in young Ainsleigh, but troubles from his earliest childhood had stultified it considerably. Ever since he left college had he battled to keep the old place, but now, it seemed as if all his trouble had been in vain. He explained his circumstances to the Major, and that astute warrior listened to a long tale of mortgages threatened to be foreclosed, of the sale of old and valuable furniture, and of the disposal of family jewels. "But this last mortgage will finish me," said Rupert in conclusion. "I can't raise the money to pay it off. Miss Wharf will foreclose, and then all the creditors will come down on me. The deluge will come in spite of all I can do." Major Tidman stared. "Do you mean to say that Miss Wharf--" "She holds the mortgage." "And she hates you," said Tidman, his eyes bulging, "huh! This is a nice kettle of fish." Rupert threw himself back in the deep chair with an angry look. He was a tall finely built young man of twenty-five, of Saxon fairness, with clear blue eyes and a skin tanned by an out-door life. In spite of his poverty and perhaps because of it, he was accurately dressed by a crack London tailor, and looked singularly handsome in his well-fitting evening suit. Pulling his well-trimmed fair moustache, he eyed the tips of his neat, patent leather shoes gloomily, and waited to hear what the Major had to say. That warrior ruminated, and puffed himself out like the frog in the fable. Tidman was thickset and stout, bald-headed and plethoric. He had a long grey moustache which he tugged at viciously, and on the whole looked a comfortable old gentleman, peaceful enough when let alone. But his face was that of a fighter and his grey eyes were hot and angry. All over the world had the Major fought, and his rank had been gained in South America. With enough to live on, he had returned to the cot where he was born, and was passing his declining days very pleasantly. Having known Rupert for many years and Rupert's father before him, he usually gave his advice when it was asked for, and knew more about the young man's affairs than anyone else did. But the extent of the ruin, as revealed by the late explanation, amazed him. "What's to be done?" he asked. "That's what I wish you to suggest," said Rupert grimly, "things are coming to a climax, and perhaps when the last Ainsleigh is driven from home, Abbot Raoul will rest quiet in his grave. His ghost walks you know. Ask Mrs. Pettley. She's seen it, or him." "Stuff-stuff-stuff," grumbled the Major staring, "let the ghost and the curse and all that rubbish alone. What's to be done?" "Well," said the young man meditatively, "either I must sell up, and clear out to seek my fortune, leaving Olivia to marry young Walker, or--" "Or what?" asked Tidman seeing Rupert hesitating. For answer Ainsleigh took a pocket-book from the lower ledge of the table and produced therefrom a slip of printed paper. "I cut that out of 'The Daily Telegraph,'" said he handing it to the Major, "what do you make of it?" Tidman mounted a gold pince-nez and read aloud, as follows:-- "The jade fan of Mandarin Lo-Keong, with the four and half beads and the yellow cord. Wealth and long life to the holder, who gives it to Hwei, but death and the doom of the god Kwang-ho to that one who refuses. Address Kan-su at the Joss-house of the Five Thousand Blessings, 43 Perry Street, Whitechapel." "A mixture of the Far East and the Near West, isn't it?" asked Rupert, when the Major laid down the slip and stared. "Lo-Keong," said Tidman searching his memory, "wasn't that the man your father knew?" "The same. That is why I cut out the slip, and why I asked you to see me. You remember my father's expedition to China?" "Of course. He went there twenty years ago when you were five years of age. I was home at the time--it was just before I went to fight in that Janjalla Republic war in South America. I wanted your father to come with me and see if he couldn't make money: but he was bent on China." "Well," said Rupert, "I understood he knew of a gold-mine there." "Yes, on the Hwei River," Major Tidman snatched the slip of print and read the lines again, "and here's the name, Hwei--that's strange." "But what's stranger still," said Rupert, bending forward, "is, that I looked up some papers of my father and learn that the Hwei River is in the Kan-su province." "Address Kan-su," murmured Tidman staring harder than ever. "Yes. It seems as though this had something to do with your father." "It _must_ have something to do with him," insisted Rupert, "my father found that gold-mine near the Hwei River in the Kan-su province, and Lo-Keong was the Boxer leader who protected my father from the enmity of the Chinese. I believe he sent my father's papers to England--at least so Dr. Forge says." "Forge," cried Tidman rising, "quite so. He was with your father. Why not see him, and ask questions." "I'll do so. Perhaps he may tell me something about this fan." "What if he does?" "I might find it." "And if you do?" asked the Major, his eyes protruding. Rupert sprang to his feet and took up the slip. "Wealth and long life to the holder who gives it to Hwei," he read: then replaced the slip in his pocket-book, "why shouldn't I find that fan and get enough money to pay off Miss Wharf and others and keep Royabay." "But it's such a mad idea?" "I don't see it. If it hadn't to do with my father it would be," said Ainsleigh lighting his pipe, "but my father knew Lo-Keong, and by the names Hwei and Kan-su, it seems as though the locality of the gold-mine had something to do with the matter. I'll see old Forge and try to find this fan." "Oh," said Tidman, a light breaking on him, "you think Lo-Keong may have given the fan to your father?" "Yes, and Forge may know what luggage and papers were sent home, at the time my father died--" "Was murdered you mean." "We can't be sure of that," said Rupert his face flushing, "but I'll find that out, and get hold of the fan also. It's my chance to make money, and I believe Providence has opened this way to me." CHAPTER II DR. FORGE Royabay was distant five miles from Marport, a rising watering place on the Essex coast. In fact so large was the town, and so many the visitors, that it might be said to be quite risen, though the inhabitants insisted that it had not yet attained the height it yet would reach. But be this as it may, Marport was popular and fashionable, and many retired gentlepeople lived in spacious houses along the cliffs and in the suburbs. The ancient town, which lay in a hollow, was left to holiday trippers, and these came in shoals during the summer months. There was the usual pier, the Kursaal, the theatre, many bathing machines and many boarding houses--in fact the usual sort of things which go to make up a popular watering-place. And the town had been in existence--the new part at all events--for only fifteen years. Like Jonah's gourd it had sprung up in a night: but it certainly showed no signs of withering. In fact its attractions increased yearly. Major Tidman was a wise man, and had not travelled over the world with his eyes shut. He had seen colonial towns spring up and fade away, and knew how the value of land increases. Thus, when he returned to his own country with a certain sum of money, he expended the same in buying land, and in building thereon. This policy produced a lot of money, with which the Major bought more land and more houses. Now, he possessed an avenue of desirable villa residences in the suburbs which brought him in a good income, and which, by reason of their situation, were never empty. The Major did not live here himself. He was a bachelor and fond of company: therefore he took up his quarters in the Bristol Hotel, the most fashionable in Marport. As he had shares in the company which built it, he managed to obtain his rooms at a comparatively moderate rate. Here he lived all the year round, save when he took a trip to the Continent, and, as the Bristol was always full of people, the Major did not lack company. As he was a good-humoured little man, with plenty of small talk and a fund of out-of-the-way information, he soon became immensely popular. In this way the crafty Major had all the comforts of home and the delights of society without bearing the burden of an establishment of his own. His sole attendant was a weather-beaten one-eyed man, who acted as his valet, and who knew how to hold his tongue. Sometimes the Major would walk up town and inspect his property with great pride. It was balm to his proud heart to walk up and down the spacious avenue, and survey the red brick villas smiling amidst trim gardens. Tidman's birth was humble,--his father had been a small tenant farmer of the Ainsleighs,--and he had started life without even the proverbial shilling. For many years he was absent from his native land, and returned to find fortune waiting for him on the door step. To be sure he brought a nest-egg home with him. Nevertheless, but for his astuteness in buying land and in building he would not have acquired such a good income. So the Major had some cause for self congratulation, when he paced up and down Tidman's Avenue. Two days after his dinner with Rupert Ainsleigh, the Major spick and span as usual,--he always looked as though he had stepped out of a bandbox,--was strutting up the Avenue. Half way along he came face to face with a withered little woman, who looked like the bad fairy of the old nursery tales. She wore a poke bonnet, a black dress and, strange to say, a scarlet shawl. Her age might have been about fifty-five, but she looked even older. With her dress picked up, and holding a flower in her hand, she came mincing along smiling at the world with a puckered face and out of a pair of very black and brilliant eyes. She looked a quaint old-fashioned gentlewoman of the sort likely to possess a good income, for it seemed that no pauper would have dared to dress in so shabby and old-fashioned a manner. Consequently it was strange that the gallant Major should have showed a disposition to turn tail when he set eyes on her. She might indeed have been the veritable witch she looked, so pale turned Major Tidman's ruddy face. But the old dame was not going to let him escape in this way. "Oh good morning," she said in a sharp voice like a saw, "how well you are looking dear Major Tidman--really so very well. I never saw you look younger. The rose in your button-hole is not more blooming. How do you keep your youth so? I remember you--" But the Major cut her short. He had enough of flattering words which he guessed she did not mean, and didn't want her to remember anything, for he knew her memory extended disagreeably to the time when he had been a poor and humble nobody. "I'm in a hurry Miss Pewsey" he said twirling his stick, "good-morning ma'am--morning." "If you're going to see Dr. Forge," said Miss Pewsey, her black eyes glittering like jet. "I've just come from his house. He is engaged." "I can wait I suppose, Miss Pewsey," said Tidman bristling, "that is, supposing I am calling on the doctor." "Then you really are: not on account of your health I'm sure. I do hope you aren't ill, dear Major. We all look forward to you shining at the ball, which is to take place at the Hotel Bristol." "I may be there, Miss Pewsey. I may be there,--in fact," the Major flourished his stick again, "I am one of the stewards." Miss Pewsey clapped together a pair of small claws encased in shabby cotton gloves. "There," she cried in a shriller voice than ever. "I knew it. I said so to my Sophia. Of course you know I always call dear Miss Wharf my Sophia; we have been friends for years--oh yes, for years. We grew on one stem and--" "You'll excuse me, ma'am--" "Oh yes--I know you are so busy. But I was saying, that you can give me a ticket for my nephew, Mr. Burgh--" "The tickets are for sale at the hotel," said Tidman gruffly. "Yes, but my poor nephew is poor. He also has come from foreign parts Major as you did, and just as poor. You must give him a ticket--oh really you must." Miss Pewsey spoke with an emphasis on every other word, and between her teeth as though she was trying to prevent the speech escaping too rapidly. "Now, Major," she coaxed. "I'll see, ma'am--I'll see." "Oh. I knew you would." She clasped her hands again, "come and see my Sophia--dear Miss Wharf, and then you can give Clarence--that's my nephew's name, sweet isn't it?--you can give him the ticket. But don't bring _him_," added Miss Pewsey jerking her old head backward in the direction of Dr. Forge's residence, "he's there." "Who is there, ma'am?" demanded the Major with a start. "Why that horrid Mr. Ainsleigh and--" Miss Pewsey got no further. The Major uttered something naughty under his breath, and taking off his hat with a flourish, bowed his way along the road, pursued by the shrill injunctions of the lady not to forget the ticket. Tidman walked more rapidly and less jauntily than usual, and stopped at Dr. Forge's gate to wipe his red face, which had now assumed its normal colour. "By George" said the old soldier, "that woman will marry me, if I don't take care. She ain't safe--she shouldn't be allowed out. Pewsey--a cat--a cat--I always said so. Lavinia Pewsey cat, to Benjamin Tidman gentleman. Not if I know it--ugh--ugh," and he walked up the steps to ring the bell. While waiting, his thoughts went from Miss Pewsey to Rupert. "I thought he had gone to town about that fan business," said the Major fretting, "what's he doing calling on Forge without telling me," and Tidman seemed very much annoyed that Rupert should have taken such a liberty. True enough, he found young Ainsleigh sitting with Dr. Forge. The doctor was a tall lean man with sad eyes, and a stiff manner. He was dressed in a loose white flannel suit, in a most unprofessional way. But everyone knew that Forge had money and did not practise, save when the fancy took him. With his watchful grey eyes and sad face and lantern jaws, Forge was not a prepossessing object or a medical attendant to be desired. Also his hands had a claw-like look, which, added to his thin hooked nose, made him look like a hawk. He spoke very little though, and what he did say was to the point: but he was not popular like the Major. A greater contrast than this mummy and handsome young Ainsleigh, can scarcely be imagined. The Major came puffing into the room and looked around. It was a small apartment furnished with Chinese curiosities. Rice-paper painted in the conventional Chinese fashion adorned the walls: a many-tasseled lantern gay with colour, dangled from the roof, and in each corner of the room a fat mandarin squatted on a pedestal. The furniture was of bamboo, and straw matting covered the floor. A bookcase filled with medical volumes looked somewhat out of place in this eastern room, as did the doctor's writing table, a large one covered with papers and books, and strange looking Chinese scrips. The room was as queer as its owner, and the atmosphere had that indescribable eastern smell, which the Major remembered to have sniffed up at Canton under disagreeable circumstances. Perhaps it was the revival of an unpleasant memory that made him sit down so suddenly, or it might have been the cold grey stony eyes of Forge. "Well Major," said Rupert who looked handsome and gay in flannels, and who seemed to have lost his melancholy looks, "who would have thought of seeing you here?" "I came to ask Forge to keep the exterior of his house a little more tidy," said the Major with dignity, "the steps have not been cleaned this morning, and there is straw in the garden, while the shrubs and flowers are dying for want of water." Forge shrugged his thin shoulders, and nodded towards some egg-shell china cups and a quaint looking tea-pot. But he did not speak. "No," replied the Major to the silent invitation. "I never drink tea in the afternoon--" "Or at any time," said Forge in a melancholy way. "I know you of old. Ainsleigh, take another cup." "Not in the Chinese fashion," said Rupert smiling, "you drink it too hot for my taste and I like milk and sugar. But now I've told you about the fan, I'll leave you to chat with Tidman." "The fan," said Tidman sitting up as straight as his stoutness would let him, "ah yes--I forgot about that. Well?" "Well," echoed Rupert lighting a cigarette, "I called at the joss-house in Perry Street Whitechapel, and a nice sort of den it is. A Chinaman, heard my explanation about my father's connection with Lo-Keong, and then told me that the fan had been stolen from that gentleman, who is now a Mandarin." "Lo-Keong was well on the way to the highest post when I saw him last" said Forge preparing a roll of tobacco, "he was much in favour at the court." "But I thought he was a Boxer," said Tidman, "and surely----" "Oh he gave up the Boxers, and curried favour with the Dowager Empress. That was seven years ago, when I was last in China. I met you there Tidman." Again the disagreeable recollection of Canton crossed the Major's memory, and he nodded. "What about the fan?" he asked Rupert again. "It's of great value," said Ainsleigh, "at least this Chinaman told me so. Lo-Keong is now a Mandarin, and is high in favour with the Dowager Empress--" "And consequently is hated by the Emperor," murmured Forge. "I don't know, doctor, I'm not up in Chinese politics. However, the fan was lost by Lo-Keong some years ago, and being a sacred fan, he wants it back. This Chinaman Tung-yu--" "Oh," said the Major, "then you didn't see Hwei or Kan-su?" "Those are names of a river and a province," said the doctor. "I know," snapped Tidman, "but they were in the advertisement." "Tung-yu explained that they were used only for the purpose of advertisement," said Rupert, "but to make a long story short, I told him that I had seen the fan--" "You saw the fan," asked Tidman directing a side look at Forge. "A dream--a dream," said the doctor. "No," insisted the young man. "I feel sure I have seen that fan, I can't think where. Perhaps it is amongst my father's effects sent from China by Lo-Keong years ago----" "Twenty years ago," said Dr. Forge, "and Lo-Keong would hardly send his own fan. I remember the things coming. I came home immediately before. A Chinaman brought your father's papers and luggage to Royabay. He left them with your mother and went away." "Were you not with my father when he died?" asked Rupert, "I always understood you were." "No. I was at Pekin at the time. Your father and I were working the mine together, and I went about some imperial concessions. While there I heard that your father was dead." "Was he murdered?" asked Rupert earnestly. "I really can't say, Lo-Keong said that he died of dysentery, but he was always a liar. He wouldn't be so high in favour with the Court if he wasn't. Lying is a fine art in the Far East, and--" "Yes--Yes," said Tidman impatiently, "but what has all this to do with the fan?" "I think it's all of a piece myself," said Rupert, "and I intend to get to the bottom of it. I have seen that fan somewhere--but I can't think--I can't," he reflected and shook his head, "no. But I have seen it doctor, so it's no use your shrugging your shoulders. I want to find it and get that five thousand pounds." "What?" cried the Major leaping up on his stout little legs. "Lo-Keong is willing to give five thousand pounds for the return of his fan," said Ainsleigh, who had walked to the door, "and I intend to earn it." "Against my advice," said Forge looking up oddly. Rupert laughed. "Oh you are afraid," he said smiling. "Of you, not of myself. I know what the Chinese are, and have studied the race for years. I know how to deal with them; but you will get into trouble if you meddle with this fan business." "And so I say," cried Tidman emphatically. "Why, what do you know of the Chinese, Major?" asked Rupert. "More than I like to think of," said the little man wiping his bald head. "I went out to China for a trip seven years ago and met with an adventure in Canton--ugh!" "What sort of an adventure?" "Ugh!" grunted the Major again, "don't talk about it. It makes me cold to think of it. The Chinese are demons. Forge got me out of the trouble and I left China never to set foot in it again I hope. Ainsleigh, if you want that curse of yours to be realised, meddle with the fan. But if you want to keep your life and your skin, leave the matter alone." "I'm going to get that five thousand pounds," said Rupert, obstinately, "as soon as I can recollect where I saw that fan. The memory will come back to me. I am sure it will. Doctor you won't help me." "No," said Forge decisively. "I advise you to leave the matter alone." "In that case I must search it out myself. Good-day," and Ainsleigh strolled out of the room, lightheartedly enough, as he whistled a gay tune. Major Tidman looked grimly at the closed door, and then still more grimly at the doctor, who was paring his nails. "Our young friend is ambitious," he said. Forge laughed gently. "You can hardly blame him. He wants to marry Miss Rayner and save his ancestral home, so I am quite sure he will search for the fan." "He won't find it then," said the Major petulantly. "Won't he?" questioned Forge sweetly, "well, perhaps not. By the way you want to see me Major. Mrs. Bressy tells me you called at least twice yesterday." "Yes. She didn't know when you would be back." "I never tell her. I like to take the old lady unawares. She is a Dickens' character, with a fondness for drink, and for taking things which don't belong to her. I always go away and come back unexpectedly. Yesterday I was in Paris. Now I am at Marport. Well?" The Major had contained himself with difficulty all this time, and had grown very red in the face. The colour changed to a lively purple, as he burst out. "See here Forge what's the use of talking to me in this way. You have that fan." "Have I," said Forge smiling gently. "Yes. You know well enough that the very fan--the jade fan with the five beads, was the cause of my getting into trouble in Canton. You got me out of the trouble and you asked me to give you the fan, when I thanked you." "And you refused," said Forge still smiling. "Well I did at first," said Tidman sulkily. "I risked my life over the beastly thing, and--" Forge raised a thin hand. "Spare yourself the recital. I know." "Well then," went on Tidman excitedly. "You asked again for it when you came home, and I gave it to you. Ainsleigh is quite right. He _did_ see the fan. I showed it to him one day before you arrived. I see he has forgotten, but any stray thought may revive his memory. I don't want him to have the fan." "Why not?" asked Forge shutting his knife with a click. "Because I want the five thousand pounds for myself. I'm not so well off as people think, and I want--" "You forget," said Forge gently, "you gave me the fan." "And have you got it?" "I have," he nodded towards a cabinet of Chinese work adorned with quaint figures, "it's in there." "Give it to me back." "No. I think I'll keep it." "What do you want to do with it?" asked Tidman angrily. Forge rose and looked stern, "I want to keep it from Lo-Keong," he said savagely, "there's some secret connected with that fan. I can't understand what the secret is or what the fan has to do with it: but it means life and death to this Mandarin. He'd give ten thousand,--twenty thousand to get that fan back. But he shan't." "Oh," groaned the Major, "why did I give it to you. To think that such a lot of money should go begging. If I had only known what the fan was worth." "You knew nothing about it save as a curiosity." "How do you know," demanded the Major. Forge who had turned towards the cabinet wheeled round and looked more like a hawk than ever as he pounced on the stout man. "What do _you_ know?" and he clawed Tidman's plump shoulders. "Let me go confound you," blustered the Major, "what do you mean by assaulting a gentleman--" "A gentleman." Forge suddenly released the Major and laughed softly, "does Benjamin Tidman, old Farmer Tidman's son call himself so. Why I remember you--" "Yes I know you do, and so does that infernal Pewsey cat." Forge suddenly became attentive. "Miss Pewsey if you please. She is my friend. I may--" Forge halted and swallowed something. "I may even marry her some day." "What," shouted Tidman backing to the wall, "that old--old--" "Gently my good Benjamin, gently." "But--but you're not a marrying man." "We never know what we are till we die," said Forge turning again towards the black cabinet, "but you needn't mention what I have said. If you do," Forge snarled like an angry cat and shot one glance from his gray eyes that made Tidman shiver: then he resumed his gentle tone. "About this fan. I'll make a bargain with you." "What's that?" asked the Major avariciously. "I'll show you the fan, and if you can guess it's secret, I'll let you give it to this Tung-yu or Hwei or Kan-su or whatever he likes to call himself." "But you don't want Lo-Keong to have the fan," said the Major doubtfully. Forge opened the cabinet slowly. "So long as I learn the secret he can have the fan. I want to ruin him. He's a devil and--ah--" he started back. "The fan--the fan--" "What is it?" asked Tidman, craning over Forge's shoulder at an empty drawer, "where is the fan?" "Lost," cried Forge furiously, and looked like a dangerous grey rat. "Five thousand pounds gone," moaned the Major. "My life you fool--my life," cried the doctor, "it is at stake." CHAPTER III MISS WHARF AT HOME The best houses in Marport were situated on the Cliffs. They stood a considerable way back and had small plots of ground before them cultivated or not, according to the taste of those who owned them. Some of these gardens were brilliant with flowers, others had nothing but shrubs in them, presenting rather a sombre appearance, and a few were bare sun-burnt grass plots, with no adornment whatsoever. A broad road divided the gardens from the grassy undulations of the cliffs, and along this thoroughfare, rolled carriages, bicycles, and motor-cars all day during the season. Then came the grass on the cliff-tops which stretched for a long distance, and which was dotted with shelters for nervous invalids. At one end there was a round band-stand where red-coated musicians played lively airs from the latest musical comedy. Round the stand were rows of chairs hired out at twopence an afternoon, and indeed, all over the lawns, seats of various kinds were scattered. At the end of the grass, the cliffs sloped gradually and were intersected with winding paths, which led downward to the asphalt Esplanade which ran along the water's edge, when the tide was high, and beside evil-smelling mud when the tide was out. And on what was known as the beach--a somewhat gritty strand,--were many bathing machines. Such was the general appearance of Marport which the Essex people looked on as a kind of Brighton, only much better. Miss Sophia Wharf owned a cosy little house at the far end of the cliffs, and just at the point where Marport begins to melt into the country. It was a modern house comfortably furnished and brilliant with electric lights. The garden in front of it was well taken care of, there were scarlet and white shades to the windows and flower boxes filled with blossoms on the sills. Everyone who passed remarked on the beauty of the house, and Miss Wharf was always pleased when she heard them envy her possessions. She liked to possess a Naboth's Vineyard of her own, and appreciated it the more, when others would have liked to take it. She had an income of one thousand a year and therefore could live very comfortably. The house (Ivy Lodge was it's highly original name) was her own, bought in the days when Marport was nothing but a fishing village. She knew everyone in the neighbourhood, was a staunch friend to the vicar who was high church and quite after her own heart in the use of banners, incense, candles and side-altars, and on the whole was one of the leading ladies of the place. She had the reputation of being charitable, but this was owing to Miss Pewsey who constantly trumpeted the bestowal of any stray shilling being by her patroness. Miss Wharf was a lady of good family, but had quarrelled with her relatives. She was a tall, cold, blonde woman who had once been handsome and still retained a certain portion of good looks, in spite of her forty and more years. She lived with her niece Olivia the child of a sister long since dead, and with Miss Pewsey, to whom she gave a home as a companion. But Miss Wharf well knew, that Lavinia Pewsey was worth her weight in gold owing to the way she praised up her good, kind, devoted, loving, sweet, friend. The adjectives are Miss Pewsey's own, but some people said that Sophia Wharf did not deserve to have them attached to her. The lady had her enemies, and these openly declared, as the Major had done, that she was a mass of granite. Other people, less prejudiced, urged that Miss Wharf looked after Olivia, who was a penniless orphan. To which the grumblers retorted that Miss Wharf liked someone to vent her temper on, and that the poor girl, being too pretty, did duty as a whipping boy. This was possibly true, for Olivia and her aunt did not get on well together. In her own way the girl looked as cold as Miss Wharf, but this coldness was merely a mask to hide a warm and loving nature, while Miss Wharf was an ice-berg through and through. However, on the whole, Sophia Wharf was well liked, and took care to make the most of her looks and her moderate income and her reputation as a charitable lady. And Miss Pewsey was the show-woman who displayed her patroness's points to their best advantage. The drawing-room of Ivy Lodge was a flimsy, pretty, feminine, room, furnished in a gim-crack fashion, of the high art style. The floor was waxed, and covered with Persian praying mats, the chairs were gilt and had spindle legs, the settee was Empire, the piano was encased in green wood and adorned with much brass, the sofa was Louis Quinze and covered with brocade, and there were many tables of rose-wood, dainty and light, heaped high with useless nick-knacks. The walls of pale green were adorned with watercolour pictures, and many mirrors draped with Liberty silk. Everywhere were large bowls of flowers, miniatures of Miss Wharf at various times of her life, curiosities from China and Japan and the near East, and all sorts of odds and ends which Miss Wharf had collected on her travels. Not that she had been to the East, for the evidences of civilisation in those lands came from Dr. Forge and Major Tidman, but Miss Wharf had explored Germany, Switzerland and Italy and consequently had brought home cuckoo-clocks, quaint carvings, pictures of the Madonna, Etruscan idols and such like things with which every tourist loads himself or herself. The result was, that the drawing-room looked like a curiosity shop, but it was considered to be one of the prettiest drawing-rooms in Essex. Miss Wharf looked too large and too substantial for the frail furniture of the room. She had a double chin and was certainly very stout. Very wisely she had a special arm-chair placed in the window--from which she could see all that was going on,--and here she sat working most of the day. She was great on doing fancy articles for bazaars, and silk ties for such gentlemen as she admired, for Miss Wharf, old maid as she was, liked male society. The Major was her great admirer, so was young Walker, Lady Jabe's nephew. Sophia was not very sure of this last gentleman, as she shrewdly suspected--prompted by Miss Pewsey--that he admired Olivia. Rupert also admired Olivia and wanted to marry her, a proceeding which Miss Wharf objected to. Miss Pewsey supported her in this, for both women were envious of the youth which had passed from them for ever. But Miss Wharf had also another reason, which Miss Pewsey knew, but of which Olivia was ignorant. Hitherto Sophia had kept it from the girl but this afternoon in a fit of rage she let it out. The explosion did not come at once, for Lady Jabe was in the room drinking tea, and Miss Pewsey was flitting about, filling odd vases with flowers. Olivia sat on the settee very straight and very cold, looking dark and handsome, and altogether too splendid a woman for her aunt to tolerate. "Can't you do something?" said Miss Wharf turning her jealous eyes on the girl. "I should think you must be tired, twiddling your thumbs all day." "I'll do whatever you wish me to do," said Olivia coldly. "Then help Lavinia with the flowers." Olivia rose to do so, but Miss Pewsey refused her assistance in a shrill speech spoken as usual between her teeth and with an emphasis on every other word. "Oh no dear, dear, Sophia," cried Miss Pewsey, "I have just finished, and I may say that my eye for colour is better than Olivia's--you don't mind my saying so, darling," she added to the girl. "Not at all," replied Miss Rayner who detested the sycophant. "I never give the matter a thought." "You _should_ think," said Lady Jabe joining in heavily. She was a tall masculine-looking woman with grey hair and bushy grey eyebrows, and with an expression of face that suggested she should have worn a wig and sat on the bench. She dressed in rather a manly way, and far too young for her fifty years. On the present occasion she wore a yachting-cap, a shirt with a stand-up, all round, collar and a neat bow; a leather belt and a bicycling skirt of blue serge. Her boots and shoes were of tanned brown leather, and she carried a bamboo cane instead of a sunshade. No one could have been more gentlemanly. "You should think," added she once more, "for instance you should think of marriage." Miss Wharf drew herself up in her cold way. "I fancy that Olivia, few brains as she has, is yet wise enough not to think of marriage at twenty." "It would not be much good if I did," said Olivia calmly. "I have no money, and young men want a rich wife." "Not all," said Lady Jabe, "there's Chris----" "Chris is out of the question," said Miss Rayner quickly. "And pray why is he?" asked Sophia in arms at once. She never liked Olivia to have an opinion of her own. "Because I don't love him." "But Chris loves you," said Lady Jabe, "and really he's getting a very good salary in that Tea-merchant's office. Chris, as you are aware, Olivia, is foreign corresponding clerk to Kum-gum Li & Co. He knows Chinese," finished Lady Jabe, with tremendous emphasis. "Oh," Miss Pewsey threw up her claws, "how delicious to be made love to in Chinese. I must really ask Mr. Walker what is the Chinese for 'I love you.'" "Olivia prefers to hear it in English," said Miss Wharf, spitefully. "Quite so, aunt," retorted her niece, her colour rising, "but don't you think we might change the subject. It really isn't very interesting." "But indeed I think it is," said Lady Jabe smartly, "I come here to plead the cause of poor Chris. His heart is breaking. Your aunt is willing to----" "But I am not," said Miss Rayner quickly, "so please let us say no more about the matter. Mr. Walker can marry Lotty Dean." "But she's a grocer's daughter," said Lady Jabe, who was herself the widow of an oil-merchant, "and remember my title." "Lotty isn't going to marry you, Lady Jabe." "Nor Chris, if I can help it," said the other grimly. Miss Wharf was just about to crush Olivia with a particularly disagreeable remark, when the door opened and two gentlemen entered. One was Christopher Walker, a slim, boyish-looking young fellow, in that callow stage of manhood which sees beauty in every woman. The other, who followed, was Miss Pewsey's nephew. There was nothing immature about him, although he was but twenty eight years of age. Clarence Burgh was tall, thin, dark and had the appearance of a swashbuckler as he swaggered into the room. His black eyes snapped with an unholy light and his speech smacked too much of the Lands at the Back of Beyond, where he had passed the most part of his life. He was an expert rider, and daily rode a bucking squealing, kicking stallion up and down the road, or took long gallops into the country to reduce the fire of the unruly beast. Burgh was bad all through, daring, free, bold, and had a good deal of the untamed savage about him; but he was emphatically a man, and it was this virile atmosphere about him, which caused his withered aunt to adore him. And indeed Miss Wharf admired him also, as did many of the women in Marport. Clarence looked like a buccaneer who would carry a woman off, and knock her down if she objected to his love-making. Women like that sort of dominating lord of the world, and accordingly Mr. Burgh had nothing to complain of, so far as feminine admiration went, during his sojourn in Marport. But he had set his affections on Olivia, and hitherto she had shrunk from him. All the same, brute as he was, she admired him more than she did effeminate Chris Walker, who smacked of the city and of a feather-bed-four-meals-a-day existence. "Oh," squeaked Miss Pewsey, flying to the hero and clasping him round the neck, "how very, very sweet of you to come." "Hadn't anything else to do," said Clarence gracefully, casting himself into a chair. All his movements were graceful like those of a panther. "How are you Miss Wharf--Miss Rayner--Lady Jabe. I guess you all look like a garden of spring flowers this day." "But flowers we may not pluck," sighed Chris prettily. Burgh looked at him with contempt. "I reckon a man can pick what he has a mind to," said he drily, and then shifted his gaze to see how Olivia took this speech. To his secret annoyance, she did not let on she heard him. "Will you have some tea, Mr. Burgh," asked Miss Wharf. "Thanks. It seems to be the sort of thing one must drink here." "You drank it in China didn't you?" asked Lady Jabe. Burgh turned quickly. "Who told you I had been in China?" he asked. "My nephew Chris. He heard you talking Chinese to someone." The dark young man looked distinctly annoyed. "When was that?" he asked Chris. "Two weeks ago," replied the other, "you were standing at the corner of the Mansion House talking to a Chinaman. I only caught a word or two in passing." "And I guess you didn't understand," said Clarence derisively. "There you are wrong. I am in a Chinese firm, and know the language. As a matter of fact I write their foreign letters for them." "The deuce you do," murmured Burgh looking rather disturbed; but he said no more on the subject, and merely enquired if the ladies were prepared for the ball at the Bristol which was to take place in six days. "I hear it's going to be a bully affair." "Oh charming--charming," said Miss Pewsey. "Major Tidman is one of the stewards. I asked him for a ticket for you Clarence dear." "I'll go, if Miss Rayner will dance with me." "I don't know that I am going myself," said Olivia quietly. "Nonsense," said her aunt sharply, "of course you are going. Everyone is going--the best ball of the season." "Even poor little me," said Miss Pewsey, with her elderly head on one side. "Huh," said the irreverent Clarence, "ain't you past hoppin' aunt?" "I can look on and admire the younger generation dear." "It will be a splendid ball," prattled Chris sipping his tea and devouring very crumbly cake, "the Glorious Golfers are going to spend a lot of money in decorating the rooms. I met Mr. Ainsleigh. He is going--a rare thing for him. He goes nowhere as a rule." Miss Wharf glanced sharply at her niece, but beyond a faint flush, she could detect no sign of emotion. "People who are as poor as young Ainsleigh, can't afford to go out," she said deliberately. "I think the wisest thing that young man could do, would be to marry a rich girl," and she again looked at Olivia. "He is certainly very handsome," said Lady Jabe pensively, "very much like his mother. She was a fine-looking woman, one of the Vanes of Heathersham." "I remember her," said Miss Wharf, her colour rising, "and I never thought she was good-looking myself." "Not to compare to you dear," said the sycophant. But this time Miss Pewsey made a mistake. The remark did not seem to please Miss Wharf. "I don't care for comparisons," she said sharply, "its bad taste to make them. I like Mr. Ainsleigh, but I don't approve of his idling." "He has never been brought up to do anything," said Lady Jabe. "Then he ought to turn his hands to making money in some way. That place is mortgaged and at any time may be sold. Then he won't have a roof over his head." "I have never met Ainsleigh," said Burgh musingly, "I guess I'd like to have a jaw along o' him. Wasn't his father murdered in China?" Miss Wharf became suddenly pale. "It is said that he was, but I don't believe it." "Then he's alive," said Clarence pertinaciously, and looking at her. "No. He's dead, but he died of dysentery, according to Dr. Forge who was with him when he died--somewhere in the north I believe." Burgh evidently stored this in his memory and looked keenly at the woman whose bosom rose and fell and whose colour came and went under his steady gaze. Miss Pewsey saw that the persistent look was annoying her patroness, and touched her nephew's arm gently. The touch recalled Burgh to his senses and he looked away. This time his eyes rested on Olivia. Her colour was high and apparently she had been listening with interest to the conversation. "Huh," thought the swashbuckler, "and it was about young Ainsleigh," and he stored this in his memory also. To make a sensation, which he dearly loved to do, Chris Walker announced that he would bring a distinguished visitor to the ball of the Glorious Golfers. "He's a Chinaman," said he pompously, "and was mixed up in the Boxer rebellion." None of the ladies seemed impressed, as none of them knew anything about the Boxers, or their rebellion. But Burgh looked up. "Who is he anyhow?" he demanded, compressing his lips. "A Chinese gentleman called Tung-yu." "What a very extraordinary name," said Miss Pewsey, and suddenly began to take a deep interest in matters Chinese. While she chatted with Chris who was willing to afford her all information, Burgh folded his arms and leaned back apparently thinking deeply. His face was not pleasant to behold. Olivia saw the evil look and shivered. Then she rose and was about to steal from the room, when her aunt called to her sharply. "Don't go Olivia I want to speak with you." "And I want to take my usual walk," said Lady Jabe rising and settling her collar, "Chris?" A tap on the shoulder brought the slim young man to his feet, and giving his arm to his masculine aunt the two departed. Burgh rose also. "I guess I'll make tracks also?" he said smartly. "Walker, you and I can have a yarn together, later." Miss Pewsey followed her nephew to the door. "Do you wish to ask young Mr. Walker more about Tung-yu?" she asked. Clarence wheeled round quickly. "What do you know of him aunt?" "It's such a strange name," simpered Miss Pewsey, looking very innocent, "and I am interested in China. You were out there a long time Clarence." "Amongst other places, yes. I hung round a bit." "Then you must tell me all about the natives," said Miss Pewsey, "I want to know of their robes and their fans and--" "Fans," said Burgh starting: but Miss Pewsey with an artificial laugh flitted back into the room, leaving him uneasy and non-plussed. He walked away frowning darkly. Olivia would have walked away also frowning, as she was indignant at the way in which her aunt had spoken of Rupert. But Miss Wharf gave her no chance of leaving the room or the house. Olivia had never seen her aunt so pale or upset. She looked as white as chalk, and controlled her emotion with difficulty. Lavinia Pewsey glanced at the two, guessed there was about to be a row, and glided away. She always kept out of trouble. "Now," said Miss Wharf when they were alone, "I want an explanation." CHAPTER IV RUPERT'S SECRET Olivia was astonished to see the emotion of her aunt, for, as a rule Miss Wharf was cold and self-contained. The two had never got on well together, and the elder woman was undeniably jealous of the youth and superior good looks of the younger. But as Olivia owed bed and board to her aunt, she always behaved as well as possible to one who was very trying in many ways. It is only just to say, that Miss Pewsey made matters much worse by tale-bearing, and probably had she been out of the house, Miss Wharf and her niece might have got on better. But they could never have been congenial companions. The difference between their natures was too great. "Yes" said Miss Wharf throwing herself back in her seat, and feeling irritated by the silence of Olivia. "I want an explanation." "What about?" asked the girl seating herself opposite and folding her hands, which, Miss Wharf noticed with bitterness, were more slender and delicate that her own. "You know well enough." "If it's about Rupert--" "There," snapped the aunt, "I knew you would guess. Yes it is about young Ainsleigh, and how dare you call him Rupert?" "Because I love him," said Olivia firmly, and looked directly into the cold blue eyes of her aunt. "Then you must put this love out of your head. You shall never marry him--never--never--never." "If I choose, and I do choose," said Olivia calmly, but with a fine colour. "I shall certainly marry him. I am of age--" "Yes, and a pauper." "Rupert would not marry me for my money." "He is wise; for you have none." "It is kind of you to speak to me in this way," said Olivia, "to remind me of obligations. I am aware that my parents died poor and left me a penniless orphan. I am aware that you took me in and educated me and--" "And acted like a mother to you," said Miss Wharf vehemently. "No. You never acted like a mother. With you, I have had a most unhappy life." "Olivia," the elder woman started furiously from her chair, "how dare you say that. Have I grudged you clothes or food. Did I not send you to a first-class school and--" "So far as material things are concerned you have done everything Aunt Sophia, and I thank you for what you have done--" "A fine way you have of showing it," scoffed Miss Wharf. "But a mother you have never been," went on Olivia calmly, "you have never given me a kind word; you speak to me before visitors as you should not do: you make me slave for you and run messages and talk of me to others as though I were a servant. What love have you ever shown me?" demanded Olivia, starting up in her turn, and also becoming excited. "I long for love. My heart yearns for it. I would like to be a daughter to you, but always you have kept me at arm's length. Aunt Sophia let me go. I can earn my bread as a governess, or as a typist. It will be better for us both." "No," said Aunt Sophia, looking as hard as stone. "I shall not let you go. If you have any gratitude in you, you will remain and help me to manage the house." "You have Miss Pewsey." "She is not a relative, you are." "And so you treat me worse than you do her. Well, Aunt Sophia, I am not ungrateful though you seem to think I am. I shall stop with you. I only ask for a little more consideration." "I give you every consideration. As for love, I cannot give it to you or to anyone. I gave all the love my nature was capable of feeling to Markham Ainsleigh, and he rejected my love. Yes, you may look astonished, but it was this man's father who broke my heart." "And that is why you don't want Rupert to marry me." "That is the reason," said Miss Wharf sitting down and growing more her calm stony self. "I was almost engaged to Markham Ainsleigh: but he saw Violet Vane and fell in love with her. He left me and made her his wife. Can you wonder that I hate the son of the woman who stole my love away from me?" "Rupert is the son of the man you loved----" "And of the man who cheated me. Look at my lonely life, at my starved heart. I hate the Ainsleighs--there's only one left but I hate him. And when I heard Markham was murdered in China I was glad--yes, very glad." "What an unforgiving nature you have." "I have every right to be unforgiving. Markham ruined my life. And do you think I'll let you marry Rupert--the son of that woman. No! Marry him, and I leave what money I have to Miss Pewsey." "You can if you like, Aunt Sophia. I don't want your money." "Reflect," said Miss Wharf violently. "I have a thousand a year. Half of that goes to a distant relative, and the remainder you shall have if you will give this man up. Five hundred a year is not to be thrown away." "I cannot give Rupert up," said Olivia firmly. "Think girl," pleaded Miss Wharf, her face becoming red and wrinkled with the violence of her passion, "there are other men who love you. Young Walker would make you a good husband, and Lady Jabe is most anxious for the match." "I like Chris," said Olivia, "and I have known him all my life. But I can't marry him. I want a master when I marry." "Then take Clarence Burgh," said Miss Wharf, "he will be your master." "No. He's a brute." "He's a man--much more of a man than Rupert Ainsleigh." "I deny that" said Olivia fiercely. "He is. Clarence has been all over the world. He has fought everywhere--" "So has Major Tidman. Do you advise me to marry him?" "He would make you a better husband than Rupert, old as he is. That young Ainsleigh is a dreamer. He is on the point of losing his estates, yet he sits at Royabay doing nothing." "He intends to do something, and save the estates." "Never. He is not the sort of man to work. Olivia if you will take Chris Walker, or Clarence Burgh for your husband I shall leave you five hundred a year. If you refuse I give you nothing." "I prefer nothing--and Rupert." "Then you shall not have him. I'll ruin him first." Olivia started. "You can't ruin him. You talk wildly." "Oh do I," sneered Miss Wharf, "that shows you know little of me or of my business. Listen. I bought up a mortgage on the Royabay estate. It cost me money which I could ill afford to pay away. But I bought it so as to ruin the son of that woman Vane who took Markham from me. I always intended to buy the estate, or at least to drive Rupert from the place, but if you will give him up, I shall forego my revenge. Now what do you say?" "Nothing," faltered Olivia, who had turned very pale. "I don't know what to say." "Will you give the man up." "I won't see him, if that will please you." "No. It doesn't please me. You must give him up, and engage yourself to Mr. Walker or to Mr. Burgh." "I cannot--I cannot--" said poor Olivia. Miss Wharf stamped her foot and bit her lip. "You are as obstinate as your mother was before you," she said savagely. "I shall give you one month to make up your mind, and that is very generous of me. If you surrender Rupert and choose one of the other two, I will not foreclose the mortgage and will leave you five hundred a year." "When can you foreclose?" asked Olivia anxiously. "By the end of the year. So it rests with you, if Rupert Ainsleigh leaves his home in six months or keeps it. Now you can go." Olivia Rayner was not a girl who would stand dictation. But for some reason or another she meekly bowed her head and went out, leaving Miss Wharf to calm down over her needle-work. The girl went to her own room, and lay down to think over the situation. What she thought or what plan she conceived, it is difficult to say; but she came down to dinner quite composed. Her aunt looked at her sharply, and Miss Pewsey with suspicion, but neither of them made any remark bearing on the storm. On the contrary Miss Wharf chatted about the ball and talked of her dress and even advised Olivia about her costume. "You will look very well in white," said Miss Wharf. "But not so lovely as my Sophia in pale blue," said Miss Pewsey with her usual emphasis. "I know you will be the belle of the ball darling Sophia." "I have been the belle of several balls in my time," said Miss Wharf good-humouredly. "And will be still," purred Miss Pewsey like the cat she was, "my dear nephew said you were a rattling fine woman." "It sounds like one of Mr. Burgh's speeches," said Olivia with great contempt. She knew that the buccaneer loved her, and therefore disliked him the more. "Oh Olivia how can you," cried the little old maid, throwing up her hands, "when poor, dear, darling, Clarence worships the ground you walk on. He's got money too, and wants a wife!" "Let him marry Lotty Dean then." "That retired grocer's daughter," cried Miss Pewsey, drawing herself up, "no indeed. I may be poor, but I am of gentle blood Olivia. The Pewsey's have been in Essex for generations. My papa was rich and could afford to send me to a fashionable school when I met my own Sophia. But poor sweet papa lost his money and then--oh, dear me." Miss Pewsey squeezed out a tear. "What sad times I have had." "You're all right now, Lavinia," said Miss Wharf stolidly, eating fruit and sipping port wine. "Yes dearest Sophia, thanks to your large and generous heart. I have no one in the world but you and Clarence. He is the son of my only sister, and has travelled--" "In China," said Olivia. Miss Pewsey narrowed her eyes and looked as though about to scratch. "In China, of course. But why do you make that remark, Olivia?" The girl shrugged her shoulders. "I observed that Mr. Burgh has not very pleasant recollections of China," she said deliberately, "he was not pleased to find that Mr. Walker could talk the language, and he was uncomfortable when the name Tung-yu was mentioned." Miss Pewsey bit her lip. "Do you know anything of Tung-yu?" "No. Why should I. All I know, is that Chris Walker says he will bring the man down here for the ball." The little old maid looked hard at the girl, but Olivia bore her scrutiny composedly. She wondered why Miss Pewsey stared so hard, and laid such emphasis on the Chinese name, but the matter slipped from her mind when she retired to her room. She would have wondered still more had she known that Miss Pewsey came up the stairs and listened at the door of the bed-room. Olivia had arranged to meet Rupert near the band-stand, as their meetings were secret because of Miss Wharf's dislike. Certainly the young man had come to the house, and Miss Wharf had received him with cold dignity: but when he showed a marked preference for Olivia's company, she gave him to understand that she did not approve. Henceforth Rupert stopped away from Ivy Lodge, and met Olivia at intervals near the band-stand. So Olivia, putting on a dark dress and a veil, slipped out of the house, and took her way along the brilliantly lighted front. She had often gone before and always had left her aunt and Miss Pewsey sitting in the drawing-room, Miss Wharf working and the companion reading the newspaper. Miss Wharf never by any chance looked at a newspaper herself, but left it to Miss Pewsey to cull the choice news for her delectation. So Olivia, feeling quite safe, stepped lightly along to where the crowd gathered round the stand. It was a perfect night and very warm, therefore many people were seated in the chairs and strolling across the grass. Olivia went to a certain corner, and, as she expected, found her lover. He was not in evening-dress, but for the sake of the meeting had assumed a dark serge suit. As she advanced, he recognised her and came forward taking off his hat. Then he gave her his arm and the two strolled to the far end of the green where they sat down under the fence which was round the flag-staff. There, removed from everyone, they could talk in moderately loud tones. "My darling," said Rupert, possessing himself of Olivia's hand. "I thought you would not come. You were late." "I could not get away before. Miss Pewsey watches me like a cat does a mouse, and with the same disposition to pounce, I expect." "She's a detestable woman," said Rupert angrily, "why can't she leave you alone?" "I don't know. Rupert, she wants me to marry her nephew." "What, that bounder who rides so furiously," cried Rupert fiercely, "you don't mean to say that he dares----" "Not in words, but he looks--oh," Olivia shivered, "you know the sort of look a man like that, gives you." "I'll twist his neck if he insults you." "Then Miss Pewsey would complain to my aunt and I should get into trouble. Oh, Rupert," she said softly, "I am so afraid." "Of that man. Nonsense." "No--of everything. I can keep Mr. Burgh off--" "Who is he?" asked Rupert jealously. "Miss Pewsey's nephew. I can manage him, bold as he is. But it is you I am afraid of. Listen," and Olivia told the young man what she had learned from Miss Wharf that afternoon. "She can ruin you," said the poor girl, almost crying, "and she will if she learns the truth." Rupert pressed the hand he held. "Why not tell her the truth," he said. "I'm willing to face poverty if you are." "Rupert, are you mad? If Aunt Sophia learned that we were married--hark, what was that?" and Olivia rose, and nervously peered into the shadows, "I thought I heard a noise." "It's nothing. Only some rats in the long grass within the fence. No one's about. They're all over at the band. But about our marriage, Olivia. Miss Wharf must learn sooner or later." "Yes. But you know I asked you to keep it quiet that I might not have trouble with her. It was selfish of me, for it would have been braver of me to have faced her anger and then have told all the world that we were married at that Registry Office. But I'm glad now I didn't. She would have ruined you." "She can't do anything till the end of the year." "But why didn't you tell me she held this mortgage?" "Well, I thought that before the end of the year I might manage to pay it and the other mortgages off. Then we could announce that we were married, and live at Royabay on what small income I have." "I don't mind about the income," said Mrs. Ainsleigh, for that Olivia secretly was. "I'd live on a shilling a day with you, darling. But aunt threatens if I marry you to cut me out of her will. She would do so at once if she knew the truth, and leave the money to Miss Pewsey." "Let her. I daresay that old maid has schemed for it. She's a wicked old woman that and worthy of her bounder of a nephew. Never mind about the money or the mortgage. Let us announce the marriage. I don't like the position you occupy. It is not fit that my wife should be exposed to the attentions of a cad like this Burgh." "Wait till the end of the year," said Olivia feverishly, "then you may be able to get money, to put things straight. It is best to keep the matter quiet now. Oh how I wish we had money Rupert." "I may be able to make it out of the fan?" "What fan?" asked Olivia looking at him. Rupert laughed. "I forgot you don't know." He took the slip of paper from his pocket-book and lighting a match he read the description of the fan. "I went up to the place," he continued dropping the lucifer, "and saw a Chinaman, Tung-yu--" "What," said Olivia starting, "why that is the man Mr. Walker is going to bring to the ball. He's a clerk in the firm of Kum-gum Li and Company." "That's strange. I thought he was the keeper of the joss-house in Perry Street, Whitechapel. Humph! Does Walker know of the fan?" "I don't know. But he knows this Tung-yu, and I think, so does Mr. Burgh. He seemed much annoyed when he heard the name." "What about?" "I can't say. And Rupert. Mr. Burgh speaks Chinese--" "He must be very clever then for I hear it is a most awful language to get hold of. Was Burgh ever in China?" "Yes. He brought the fan from that place?" "Fan." Rupert turned round sharply, "what fan?" "The one you talk about," said Olivia innocently. "I recognised it at once from the description you read just now." "Are you sure," said Rupert much excited, for he never expected to hear of the missing fan from Olivia of all people. "Quite sure--positive. The fan is painted green on one side and the sticks on the other are overlaid with thin jade, so I suppose it gets its name from the mineral. Then it has a cord of yellow silk with four beads and half a bead, and----" "It is the same. Where did Burgh get it?" "I don't know. He says he brought it from China, and offered it to me. I refused it----" "I should think so," said Ainsleigh fuming, "well?" "Then he gave it to my aunt." "And has Miss Wharf got it now?" "I think so, but I have not seen it lately. I expect if she has, she will use it at the ball." "And Tung-yu who advertises, is coming to the ball," mused Rupert, "there doesn't seem much chance for me. I expect your aunt will make the money after all." "It won't be much. Who would give a large sum for that fan?" "Tung-yu will. He is ready to give five thousand pounds." "Oh," said Olivia with real regret, "and I refused it." "I'm glad you did," cried Rupert angrily, "I would rather everything went than that you should accept presents from that bounder. Well I fear my chance is gone Olivia. I'm ruined." "Dearest I will face the ruin with you," and in the shadows they kissed. CHAPTER V CONCERNING THE FAN Rupert returned to Royabay in rather a melancholy frame of mind. He found himself in a very difficult situation, and there did not seem to be any chance of his extricating himself therefrom, now that Miss Wharf possessed the fan. It was strange that she should have received it from Clarence Burgh, and Rupert wondered how that dashing young gentleman became its owner. However, there was little use speculating on this. Miss Wharf had the fan, and probably she would keep it, unless the large sum of money offered by Tung-yu tempted her to do business. Ainsleigh wondered also, if the old maid had read the papers, and if she had seen the advertisement. "But what does it matter to me," said Rupert, as he turned up the avenue. "I won't get the money, and Miss Wharf will see me hanged first before she will let me make such a sum. While I am poor, she holds me in her clutches, and thinks by means of that mortgage to prevent my marriage with Olivia. What would she say if she knew that we were already married. I was wrong to consent to keep the affair secret, even though Olivia wished it. In any case Miss Wharf can do nothing, till the end of the year, and the truth is bound to come to her ears sooner or later. Then she will strike and spare not. I believe that's the motto of the Wharfs, and it fits her spiteful temper excellently." Then Rupert went on to reflect on what Olivia had told him of Aunt Sophia's romance with Markham Ainsleigh. The young man had never heard of it before, as he knew little of his father, who had gone to China, a few years after his heir was born. In fact Markham only waited till there was a male Ainsleigh to carry on the succession and to inherit what remained of the estates, and then steamed to the Far East to seek fortune. But fortune had proved unkind and the poor man had died--whether of dysentery or by violence, it is difficult to say. Some people said one thing and some another, but even Rupert did not know the truth. Dr. Forge, who had worked the mine in the Kan-su province along with Markham, knew the absolute truth, and he ascribed the death to dysentery, so Rupert, for the time being at all events, was willing to accept this explanation. He had no reason to doubt the loyalty of Theophilus Forge who had been a college chum of his father's. Thinking in this way and considering whether it would not be advisable to proclaim his marriage so as to release his wife from the odious attentions of Clarence Burgh, the young man arrived at the house. He was met in the hall by Mrs. Petley, who announced that Major Tidman was waiting to see her young master. Rupert nodded in an absent-minded way and was going to the library where the Major was kicking his heels, when Mrs. Petley caught him by the arm. "It's walking again," said Mrs. Petley, whose fat face was pale, "and say what you like Master Rupert, trouble is coming." She was a stout old dame with a red face suggestive of drink, a most unfair thing to be said of her as she drank nothing stronger than gin and water, one tumbler a night before retiring. But Mrs. Petley had been a cook in her early days; later on she assumed the position of Rupert's nurse, and finally, having married Petley the butler, she became housekeeper of Royabay. She was a common vulgar old woman, but loyal to the core, and adored Rupert. When he had to dismiss the greater part of his servants he retained John Petley, and John Petley's wife, who continued to serve him faithfully and always hoped for better days. Mrs. Petley, being intensely superstitious, was always influenced by the appearance of Abbot Raoul whose walking was supposed to predict bad luck to the Ainsleighs. If the ghost did not appear Mrs. Petley was happy, but when it did she always prognosticated evil. And it must be admitted that Rupert usually had more trouble with his creditors when Abbot Raoul _did_ visit his old haunts. He seemed to be a most malignant spirit. But Rupert as an educated man, was not going to admit occult influence. "Nonsense Mrs. Petley," said he, shaking her off, "so far as trouble is concerned Abbot Raoul might remain visible for ever. Am I ever out of trouble?" "No, that you ain't, worse luck. But this walking means something extra special as I said to John." "Where did you see the old beast, I mean Abbot Raoul of course." Mrs. Petley started. "Hush deary," she whispered looking round in a fearful manner, "don't speak evil of speerits. It may be round, and you might anger it. I saw it in the cloisters." "Near the place?" asked Rupert. "Aye, standing on the black square where its mortal body was burnt poor soul. It was pointing to a tree." "To what tree--there are plenty in the cloisters." "To the copper beech, as you might say Master Rupert. And angry enough he looked. I nearly fainted." "You should be used to the ghost by this time Mrs. Petley." "Ghosts is things custom won't help you with," said Mrs. Petley mysteriously, "they freeze your blood every time. Just as I was thinking of a good scream and a faint, it vanished." "Into thin air like the witches in Macbeth," said Rupert lightly. "Well it doesn't need Abbot Raoul to come and tell me trouble is near. I'm likely to have a good deal by the end of the year." "Oh Master Rupert what is it?" gasped the old woman. "Nothing I can tell you at present," said Ainsleigh carelessly, "I have a good mind to seek Abbot Raoul myself and see if he can't help me; but I'm not psychic as you are Mrs. Petley. I see nothing." "And a good thing too," said the ex-cook solemnly, "if it spoke to you it would be to make matters worse, though worse they can't be." "Oh yes they can," said Rupert grimly. "I may have to leave--" "Never," cried Mrs. Petley smiting her fat hands together. "Royabay can never do without an Ainsleigh within its walls." "It will have to content itself with Abbot Raoul, and I hope he'll jolly well frighten the creditors." "Drat them," said Mrs. Petley vigorously, "but Master Rupert why did it pint to the copper beech." "I can't say. Ask it when next you see it. But I must go to Major Tidman. He'll be angry if I keep him." Mrs. Petley tossed her head and snorted. "The idear of old Farmer Tidman's son, being angry with the likes of you Master Rupert. I mind him when he was a brat of a lad and--" "Yes--yes--but I must go," said Ainsleigh rather impatiently and left Mrs. Petley talking to the air. Major Tidman, whose ears must have burnt at the thoughts which occupied Mrs. Petley's brain, was seated in the most comfortable arm-chair he could find, and smoked a good cigar. He had a bottle of port and a glass before him, and apparently had made himself at home while waiting. "Hope you don't mind my making free with the wine-list," said Tidman, who looked rather uneasy, as he rose. "I've waited two hours." "What about?" said Rupert, throwing his cap down and sinking wearily into a near chair, "anything wrong?" "I am," said the Major, "all wrong my dear boy. You see in me a beast and a false friend." "Indeed. How do you make that out?" "I have been concealing things from you," said the Major ruefully, "and all to make money. I'm really getting avaricious, Ainsleigh," added the Major desperately, "and it's spoiling my character." "Well," said Rupert filling his pipe, and wondering what this out-burst meant, "Byron says that avarice is a fine old gentlemanly vice. If you have only that fault to blame yourself for, you are very lucky." "But I should have told you about the fan." Rupert blew out the match he had just lighted and sat up. "What's that about the fan?" he asked sharply. "I know something about it," said Tidman fortifying his courage with a glass of wine, "and I should have spoken the other evening after dinner when you read that advertisement. But I thought I'd get the fan myself and secure the five thousand pounds--though to be sure I didn't know what that Tung-yu would pay for it at the time." "No," said Rupert drily, "I told you that later. Well, Major, you haven't treated me quite on the square, but I forgive you. I expect neither of us will make money out of that fan." "No," said Tidman still more ruefully. "Forge has lost it." Rupert looked puzzled. "Forge? What do you mean?" "Oh, this is part of my confession of trickery," said the Major rubbing his bald head. "You see Ainsleigh, I held my tongue when you read out about the fan, but I knew where it was all the time." "And where was it?" asked the young man staring. "Forge has it--or rather Forge had it," said the Major, and he related his interview with the doctor when Rupert had departed. "So you see," added the Major sadly "I'm punished for my wrong-doing. I'm very sorry, as I like you, Ainsleigh, and after all I'd be glad to see you make the money, though I'm not so well off myself as people think, and five thousand pounds would help me a lot. However, I hope you will think I have made amends for my momentary lapse from squareness by thus confessing." "Oh that's all right Tidman. But treat me openly for the future. How did you know that Forge had had the fan?" Rupert did not tell what he had heard from Olivia for the moment. He first wished to hear all that the Major had to say. Tidman had certainly acted wrongly, as he should not have taken advantage of Rupert's confidence, but now he apparently wished to behave properly and Ainsleigh put the Major's temporary deceit out of his mind. "I gave Forge the fan," blurted out the Major. "The deuce you did," said Ainsleigh looking puzzled. "And where did you get it?" "In Canton seven years ago," confessed Tidman, "I was travelling there for my health, and I had an adventure." "What was that?" But Tidman did not seem inclined to speak out. "I'll tell you on another occasion," he said with a shudder, "it was not a very pleasant adventure, and Forge, who was in Canton at the time, got me out of it. I stuck to the fan though." "Oh, so the fan was the cause of the adventure?" "Partly" admitted Tidman reluctantly. "I'll tell you later as I say," he wiped his forehead, "I can't tell you now, it's too awful. I got the fan though and Forge took a fancy to it. He asked me for it in Canton and I refused. He asked again in England and I gave it to him. He's had it all these seven years, locked up in that black japan cabinet with the gold figures--" "I know. Its in that Chinese room of his. Well?" "After you went away the other day I asked him to give me the fan back, as I wanted to get the money from Tung-yu. Forge refused, as he said the fan has something to do with a secret--" "Whose secret?" "Lo-Keong's secret. He is the real owner of the fan you know. Forge seems to hate Lo-Keong, and said the fan would get him into trouble." "But how--how?" asked Ainsleigh impatiently. The Major wiped his face again, "I don't know--I can't say. But Forge said there was a secret connected with the fan--" "You said that before," cried Rupert becoming exasperated. "I don't know what I am saying, and that's the truth," stammered Tidman becoming hotter and redder, "but Forge said if I found the secret he would give me the fan. He then opened the cabinet and found that the fan was gone." "What did he say?" "He turned as white as a sheet, and said that his life was at stake." Rupert rose to pace the room. The mystery of the fan piqued him, "I wonder what he meant by that?" he asked himself. "Something horrid if it has to do with the Chinese," said the Major, "you have no idea what brutes they are. But Forge thought that Mrs. Bressy, the old woman who looks after him, might have sneaked the fan, as she is fond of taking things and pawning them. But she swore she had never set eyes on it." "Wasn't the cabinet locked?" "Yes. That's the strange part, and Forge has the key on his watch-chain. The lock wasn't broken, and no other key would fit it, so how it was opened, is a mystery. But the fan's gone." "Quite so," said Rupert, facing the Major sharply, "and Miss Wharf has the very fan you speak of." Tidman fell back in his chair and gasped till he was purple in the face. "Wh--a--a--t," he drawled out. "Sophia Wharf?" "Yes. Olivia told me, when I explained how I wished to find the fan and make money. It seems that young Burgh----" "A detestable young cad," snapped Tidman. "I agree with you. He dares to admire my--to admire Olivia," said Rupert nearly letting his secret slip out, "and, to gain her good graces, he offered her this fan. She refused, and he then presented it to Miss Wharf, who took it and who has it now." "Oh," groaned the Major, "and it's worth five thousand. What luck some people have." Rupert shrugged his shoulders. "The luck will not come our way," he replied carelessly, "and to tell you the truth I don't much care. I expect Miss Wharf will sell the fan to Tung-yu." "But she doesn't know about his wishing to buy it?" "She may have seen the advertisement, and you know Tung-yu is coming to the ball at the Bristol." Major Tidman rose like a jack-in-the-box. "Who says so?" he asked. "Young Walker. Tung-yu is not the keeper of the Whitechapel Joss-house as I thought. He is a clerk in the firm of Kum-gum Li." "Chris Walker also works for them," interpolated the Major. "Certainly, and he is bringing Tung-yu to the ball. I don't know why, and I don't much care," added Ainsleigh somewhat crossly. "I am about tired of this fan business. What will you do?" Major Tidman buttoned his coat. "I'm going straight to Forge," he said, "and I shall tell him that young Burgh had the fan. I know how he got it." "Do you, indeed," said Rupert yawning. "Yes. Miss Pewsey stole it from the cabinet." "Nonsense. Why should she do that?" "Because she's always about Forge's house. He told me that he might marry her--ugh," the Major sneered, "fancy marrying that old cat." "Different people have different tastes," said Ainsleigh coolly, "but if Forge is going to marry Miss Pewsey all the more reason she should not steal the fan." "But she did," insisted the Major. "I'm sure she stole it and gave it to that scamp of a nephew so that he might gain Miss Rayner's goodwill. You see, Miss Pewsey would like to see Burgh married to Olivia, as she--Miss Pewsey I mean--could then finger the five hundred a year Miss Wharf will leave her niece." "He had better be certain that Olivia will inherit the money first," said Rupert grimly, thinking of the secret marriage, "and Miss Pewsey hates Olivia." "She hates everyone," said Tidman shrugging his plump shoulders, "but she hasn't a penny to bless herself with, and when Miss Wharf dies she will be cast on the world. Even five hundred a year is a consideration to her, and if her nephew can secure that by marrying Olivia, why, all the better for Miss Pewsey." But Rupert shook his head. "If Miss Pewsey had that scheme in her head, she would be more friendly with Olivia," he said, "and she can set her mind at rest: Burgh will not marry Olivia." "He's a dangerous rival Ainsleigh." "Pooh. I can manage that young man and half a dozen like him. You don't think I'd give up the girl I love, to anyone, Tidman." "No," said the Major, looking at the frank brave face of his host, "but Burgh is unscrupulous, and will make mischief. However, perhaps Forge will deal with him for this fan business. When Forge learns that Miss Pewsey has stolen his fan, he won't marry her. I'll have the satisfaction of spoiling her plans at all events." "She seems to have a great many plans according to you," yawned Ainsleigh, "but frankly I think you have found a mare's nest. I don't believe anything will come of the matter. It's moonshine." Tidman marched to the door. "We'll see," said he determinedly. "I believe trouble is coming to you through young Burgh," and he departed. Rupert left alone lighted his pipe and thought of Mrs. Petley's fancy concerning the ghost. "If this is the trouble," said he to himself. "I don't mind. Burgh won't get Olivia unless over my dead body. As to this fan--pah!" But he little knew what disasters the fan would bring to him. Abbot Raoul's ghost was not walking for nothing. CHAPTER VI BURGH'S STORY Next morning Major Tidman was seated in his well-furnished room in the Bristol Hotel. From the window he commanded a fine view of the mouth of the Thames, of the pier, and of the picturesque lower town. But the view did not gain the attention of the Major, worthy as it was of his notice. He seated himself at the table which was spread for breakfast, and proceeded to make a good meal. Perhaps he did not eat so well as usual for the Major was worried, as was evident from the cross expression of his face. On the previous night he had gone to see Forge, and had told him how Miss Wharf became possessed of the fan. The doctor had listened to him quietly, but had refrained from making any observation, even when Tidman reminded him of his remark, as to his life being at stake. The interview had on the whole been unsatisfactory, and Tidman was not at all pleased. He wished to learn the truth about the fan. "There's some secret connected with it," muttered the Major, while he devoured buttered eggs rapidly, "and that secret means a lot of money. Five thousand pounds is worth having. I could buy that plot of waste land near the church and build an hotel there. I believe it would pay. Then there's Forge's life, which, as he says, hangs on the fan, though in what way I can't find out. If I got the fan, I might be able to get something out of him. I would make Forge and Tung-yu bid against one another, and perhaps I'd get even more than is offered. Ainsleigh can't say anything against me now, as I am acting quite square and above board. He's got no enterprise," thought the little man with some scorn, "or he'd get Olivia to take the fan from her aunt and make the money out of it. But if he won't, I will, so I'll see Miss Wharf to-day and try what I can do. I daresay I'd get it from her for a five pound note--that is if she hasn't seen the advertisement. She's keen after money, too--as keen as I am. Humph," added Tidman, filling himself a second cup of coffee. "I wonder why Tung-yu was such a fool as to tell Ainsleigh he was willing to give five thousand. Anyone, not knowing the value of the fan, would get it cheap. There's a mystery about it, and the mystery means money. I must get to the bottom of the affair. Forge is no good, as he is holding his tongue: even when I told him that Miss Pewsey stole it, he did not seem to mind. But he'll never marry her after this, so I've spoilt her chance of marriage, the cat. Though why Forge should marry an old fiend who is eighty, if she's an hour, I can't make out. But Forge was always secretive," ended the Major in disgust, and reached for the _patè-de-foi-gras_. His meal was interrupted by a smart young waiter, who intimated that a lady and gentleman wished to see the Major. Tidman was rather surprised at a call being paid at ten o'clock in the morning: but he was still more surprised, when at the heels of the waiter appeared Miss Pewsey and Dr. Forge. The latter looked much his usual self, hungry, dismal, and like a bird of prey: but Miss Pewsey had a colour in her cheeks and a fire in her black eyes, which made her look younger. It seemed that her errand was not a peaceful one. "To what am I indebted--?" began the courtly Major, when the little old maid cut him short with vinegary politeness. "Indebted," she said, standing very straight and stiff, and quite ignoring the chair placed for her. "Oh, indeed,--how very polite we are. Judas!" she snapped out the word with flaming eyes. "Oh, Judas!" "Really, Miss Pewsey----" "You'd like to see me in the dock would you?" cried Miss Pewsey tossing her head and trembling with wrath, "I'm a thief am I--oh you military fat Judas." "Did you come here to insult me?" asked Tidman growing purple. "If you put it in that way I did," sniffed the lady, "and also to ask plainly, what you meant by stating to my promised husband here, that I stole a fan from his cabinet?" Tidman changed from purple to scarlet. He had not reckoned on the doctor speaking to Miss Pewsey, and he turned a look of reproach on his friend. The doctor immediately took up the challenge, "I see you think I have been too free with my tongue," said he deliberately, "it is not my custom as you know. But I told you Major that I was engaged to Miss Pewsey, and I thought it only right that she should know the aspersions you have cast on her character." "A character," cried the lady, "which has stood the test of years and which stands deservedly high. I am a Pewsey of Essex," she added as though the whole county belonged to her, "and never before have I been accused of thieving--Judas," she shot out the name again, and the Major quailed. He saw that he was in the wrong, owing to Forge's betrayal, and had to make the best of it. "I am extremely sorry," he said apologetically, "quite a mistake." "Oh, indeed. A jury will give their opinion on that," sniffed the maiden. "No! No I beg of you----" "The damages will be laid at five thousand pounds." "The price of the fan," said Tidman starting. "What do you mean by that?" asked Miss Pewsey, her eyes glittering. "I mean, just nothing." "Oh yes, you do. Make a clean breast of it Benjamin Tidman. Oh, to think that the son of a farmer, who was almost a labourer, should dare to speak evil of a Pewsey of Essex. But the law--the law," said the irate lady shaking a thin finger, "and five thousand pounds." "Get it out of the fan." "Is it worth that?" asked Forge coldly. "You heard what young Ainsleigh said," answered Tidman as coldly. "Yes I remember; but we have not come about the price, but about your libel on this lady." "I apologise," said Tidman, seeing nothing else was to be done. "Apology isn't money," snapped Miss Pewsey. "Oh, if you want money, again I refer you to the fan." The Major was getting angry. He didn't very much care if Miss Pewsey did bring an action at the moment, though with saner thoughts he would have been horrified at the idea. "I apologise," said he again, "but I was misled by Dr. Forge." "How were you misled by me?" demanded Forge impassively. "You said you had the fan in your cabinet, and that it had been stolen. Mrs. Bressy swore she did not take it, and I thought--" "That I was the thief," cried Miss Pewsey shrilly, "oh how clever of you--how very, very clever. You thought that I got the key from the watch-chain of Dr. Forge where he always carries it, to open the cabinet and steal a fan, I knew nothing about it. I never even knew of the existence of the fan--there Judas," snapped the lady once more. "Then I was mistaken, and Dr. Forge was mistaken also." "I confess that I did make a mistake," said the doctor with a sad face, "but that does not excuse your libelling the lady I hope to call my wife. My memory is not so good as it was, and I fear that the drugs I take to induce sleep have impaired what memory I have left. I suffer from neuralgia," added the doctor turning to Miss Pewsey, "and in China I contracted the habit of opium smoking, so--" "Marriage will put that right," said the lady patting his hand. "I do not expect a perfect husband--" "I never knew you expected a husband at all," said Tidman injudiciously. "Ho," cried Miss Pewsey drawing herself up. She had been standing all the time, "another libel. I call Dr. Forge to witness it." "I really think Tidman you'd better hold your tongue," said the doctor gently, "but I must explain, that I quite forgot that I had parted with the fan. Yes. I received it from you, seven years ago when I brought you home after that adventure in Canton. Two years later I returned to China, to see Lo-Keong on business, and I took the fan with me. He received it." "No," said the Major shaking his bald head, "I can't believe that, Forge. You declared that you hated Lo-Keong and that the fan would harm you and him also." "I do hate the man," cried Forge looking more like a bird of prey than ever, "but I got a concession about a gold mine, by giving back the fan. I wanted the money more than Lo-Keong's life. As to my own life, it was in danger from the enemies of the Mandarin, who want the fan to ruin him. That was why I spoke as I did. Are you satisfied?" "Not quite," said Tidman who was puzzled, "how did the fan come to England again?" "My nephew Mr. Burgh will tell you that," said Miss Pewsey, "when he has administered the beating I have asked him to inflict." "Beating," shouted the Major snatching a knife from the breakfast table, "let that young whelp dare to hint such a thing, and I'll kick him round Marport." "Clarence is not the man to be kicked." "Nor am I the man to be beaten. I have apologised and that is quite enough. If you are not satisfied Miss Pewsey, you can bring your action and I'll defend it. Beating indeed," snorted Tidman, "I'd like to see anyone who would dare to lay a hand on me," and he looked very fierce as he spoke. "Very good," said Miss Pewsey in a stately manner, "if you will tell me all about the fan, I shall ask Clarence to spare you the beating." "Clarence can go to--" the Major mentioned a place which made Miss Pewsey shriek and clap her fingers to her ears. "I am not the least afraid of that cad and bounder--that--that----" "Libel again Major Tidman." "Pooh--Pooh," said Forge rising, "let us go Lavinia." "Not till I hear about the fan. For the sake of my dear Sophia who has the fan, I want to hear." "All I know, is, that the fan was advertised for----" "I saw the advertisement," said Miss Pewsey, "but I said nothing to dear Sophia, although I recognised the fan from the description in the newspaper. She never looks at the papers, and trusts to me to tell her the news." "So you kept from her a piece of news out of which she could make five thousand pounds." "Really and truly," said Miss Pewsey clutching her bag convulsively and with glittering eyes, "who says so--who pays it--who--?" "One question at a time," interrupted Tidman, now quite master of himself. "Tung-yu, the man Ainsleigh saw at the Joss House in Perry Street Whitechapel, offered five thousand pounds for the return of the fan. Ainsleigh saw the advertisement and--" "I know how he came to inquire about the fan," said Miss Pewsey, "Dr. Forge told me, but I did not know the amount offered." "Will you tell Miss Wharf now." "No," said Miss Pewsey very decisively, "nor will any one else. My Sophia's health is delicate and if she had a shock like that inflicted on her, she would die." "What the offer of five thousand pounds--" "The chance of being killed," said Miss Pewsey, "but I will leave my nephew Mr. Burgh to explain that Major Tidman. I accept your apology for thinking me a--but no," cried the lady, "I can't bring myself to pronounce the nasty word. I am a Pewsey of Essex. All is said in that, I think. Good morning, Major. My abstinence from bringing an action lies in the fact, that you will refrain from unsettling my Sophia's mind by telling about the fan. Good-morning. My Theophilus will we not go?" Before the Major could recover from the bewilderment into which he was thrown by this torrent of words, Miss Pewsey taking the arm of the melancholy doctor had left the room. When alone Tidman scratched his chin and swore. "There's something in this," he soliloquised. "I believe the old woman wants to get the money herself. By George, I'll keep my eyes on her," and the Major shook his fist at the door, through which the fairy form of Miss Pewsey had just vanished. Later in the day Tidman dressed to perfection, walked up the town twirling his stick, and beaming on every pretty woman he came across. The stout old boy was not at all appalled by the threat of Miss Pewsey regarding her buccaneering nephew's attentions. When he saw the gentleman in question bearing down on him, he simply stopped and grasped his stick more firmly. If there was to be a fight, the Major resolved to have the first blow. But Burgh did not seem ready to make a dash. He sauntered up to Tidman and looked at him smilingly, "Well met old pard," said he in his slangy fashion. "My name to you, is Major Tidman," said the old fellow coolly. "I guess I know that much. Can't we go a stretch along the lower part of the town?" "If there's any row to come off," said the Major, keeping a wary eye on the young man. "I prefer it to take place here. On guard sir--on guard." Clarence shrugged his shoulders and produced a cigarette. "Oh that's all right," said he striking a match. "I guess my old aunt's been at you. I'm not going in for any row--not me." "Just as well for you," said the Major sharply, "how dare you threaten me, you--you--" "Now I ask you," said Clarence, "if I have threatened you? Go slow. I guess the old girl's been piling on the agony. She's got old Forge to fight her battles. When I make trouble," added Clarence musingly, "it will be for a pretty girl like Olivia." "You can have your desire for a row by telling that to young Ainsleigh." "Huh," said Burgh with contempt, "I guess I'd lay him out pretty smart. I tell you, Major, I'm dead gone on that girl: but she treats me like a lump of mud." "And quite right too," said Tidman coolly, "you aren't worthy of her. Now Ainsleigh is." Clarence pitched away his cigarette with an irritable gesture. "Don't get me riz," said he darkly, "or I'll make the hair fly with Ainsleigh." "Pooh. He's quite able to look after himself." "Can he shoot?" demanded the buccaneer. "Yes. And use his fists, and fence, and lay you out properly. Confound you, sir, don't you think I've travelled also. I've been in the Naked Lands in my time, and have seen your sort growing on the banana plants. You're the sort to get lynched." "Oh, tie it up," said Burgh with sudden anger, for these remarks were not to his mind. "I want to tell you about the fan." "Why do you want to talk of that?" asked Tidman with suspicion, "I don't care a straw for the fan." "Oh, I reckon you do, Major. But you're well out of it. If you'd kept that fan there would have been trouble--yes, you may look, but if you'd held on to that article you'd have been a corpse by now." Tidman sneered, not at all terrified by these vague threats. "What do you mean by this drivel?" "Let's come to anchor here," said Clarence pulling up beside a seat in a secluded part, near the old town beach. "I'll spin the yarn." "About the fan," said the Major sitting promptly. "I confess I am curious to know how it came to England again, after Forge took it again to the Far East. Didn't he give it to Lo-Keong?" "So he says," said Clarence with a side-long look at his companion. "I don't know myself. All I know is, that I got it from a pirate." "From a pirate?" "That's so. I was in Chinese waters a year or so ago, and I reckon pirates swarm in those parts--" Tidman shivered. "Yes," he admitted, "I had an adventure myself in Canton with a pirate of sorts." "Old Forge told me something about it," said Clarence lighting a fresh cigarette, "but my yarn's different. I was out with some of the boys in Chinese water, and a pirate tried to board us. We were down Borneo way, looking out for a ruby mine said to be in those parts. My pals--there were two of them, and myself engineering the job--hired a boat and cut across to Borneo. The pirates tried to slit our throats and our Chinese crew tried to help them. But we used our Winchesters and six shooters freely, and shot a heap. The pirates cleared off and we brought our barky into port safe enough." "But about the fan?" "I'm coming to that. The Boss pirate was shot by me--a big six foot Northern Chinee, got up, to kill, like a tin god. He had this jade fan, and directed operations with it. When his pals cleared I found him as dead as a coffin and nailed the fan. It was pretty enough, but didn't appeal to me much. I clapped it away in my box, and when I reached England I offered it to Aunt Lavinia. She wants me to marry Miss Rayner, and said I should offer it to her, and cut out that aristocratic Ainsleigh chap. Olivia--ripping name, ain't it--well, she didn't catch on, so I thought I'd gain the goodwill of old Miss Wharf, and passed it along to her." The Major listened in silence to this story, which seemed reasonable enough. "Strange it should have come back to England, and to a small place like this, where Forge had it," he mused. "A coincidence I suppose. By the way did you see the advertisement?" he asked. "You bet I did, and it made me sick to think I'd parted with the fan. Leastways, it made me sick till I saw Hwei!" "You mean Tung-yu." "No, I don't. I mean the Chinee as calls himself Hwei, who put that advertisement in every newspaper in London, and the United Kingdom." "What, in everyone?" said the Major, "must have cost----" "A heap you bet, Major. Well I struck Hwei--" "That's the name of a river, man." "Maybe: but it's what this celestial calls himself. I struck him near the Mansion House, and knew him of old in Pekin I reckon, where we chin-chined over some contraband biznai. I spoke to him in Chinese--I know enough to get along on--and he told me he had come to this country about Lo-Keong's fan. I never said I'd got it, though by that time I'd seen the advertisement. I know Chinamen too well, to give myself away in that fashion. I pumped him, and learned that Hwei intended to scrag the chap who held the fan, so I concluded to lie low." "But he offered wealth to whomsoever gave it up." "Maybe. I don't know exactly how the thing figures out. I guess Hwei does the killing, and Tung-yu the rewarding. But you can take it from me, Major, that unless Miss Wharf gets rid of that fan she'll have her throat cut. So I guess, you must be glad you didn't handle the biznai," and Clarence puffed a serene cloud of smoke. "It's more of a mystery than ever," said the Major. And so it was. CHAPTER VII THE WARNING The idea that the end of the year would see him ruined and homeless was terrible to Rupert. Even if his home had been an ordinary house, he would have been anxious; but when he thought of the venerable mansion, of the few acres remaining, of the once vast Ainsleigh estates, of the ruins of the Abbey which he loved, his heart was wrung with anguish. How could he let these things depart from him, for ever? Yet he saw no way out of the matter, although he had frequent consultations with his lawyers. One day, shortly before the ball at the Bristol, he returned from town with a melancholy face. Old Petley ventured to follow his young master into the library, and found him with his face covered with his hands, in deep despair. "Don't take on so, Master Rupert," said the old butler, gently, "things have not yet come to the worst." "They are about as bad as they can be, John," replied Ainsleigh. "I have seen Mr. Thorp. It will take thirty thousand pounds to put matters right. And where am I to get it? Oh," the young man started up and walked to and fro, "why didn't I go into the law, or take to some profession where I might make money? Forge was my guardian, he should have seen to it." "Master Rupert," said the old butler, "do you think that gentleman is your friend?" "What makes you think he isn't, John?" Petley pinched his chin between a shaky finger and thumb. "He don't seem like a friend," said he in his quavering voice. "He didn't tell you or me, Master Rupert, how bad things were. When you was at college he should have told you, and then you might have learned some way of getting money." "My father trusted him, John. He was appointed my guardian by the will my father made before he left for China." "And Dr. Forge went with the master to China," said the old man, "how did the master die?" "Of dysentery, so Dr. Forge says." "And others say he was murdered." "Who says so, John?" "Well sir, that Mandarin gentleman sent your father's papers and luggage back here when your mother was alive. A Chinaman brought the things. He hinted that all was not right, and afterwards the mistress died. She believed your father was murdered." Rupert looked pensive. He had heard something of this, but the story had been so vague, and was so vague as John told it, that he did not believe in it much. "Does Dr. Forge know the truth?" he asked. "He ought to, sir. Dr. Forge came from China with a report of this gold mine up in Kan-su, and your father was all on fire to go there and make money. The mistress implored him not to go but he would. He went with Dr. Forge, and never returned. The doctor, I know, says that the master died of dysentery, when the doctor himself was at Pekin. But I never liked that Forge," cried the old servant vehemently, "and I believe there's something black about the business." "But why should Forge be an enemy of my father's?" "Ah sir," Petley shook his old head, "I can't rightly say. Those two were at college together and fast friends; but I never liked Forge. No, sir, not if I was killed for it would I ever like that gentleman, though it's not for a person in my position to speak so. I asked the doctor again and again to let me know how bad things were, when you were at school, Master Rupert, but he told me to mind my own business. As if it wasn't my business to see after the family I'd been bred up in, since fifteen years of age." "I'll have a talk with Dr. Forge," said Rupert after a pause, "if there is any question of my father having been murdered, I'll see if he knows," he turned and looked on the old man quickly. "You don't suppose John that if there was a murder, he--" "No! no!" cried Petley hurriedly, "I don't say he had to do with it. But that Mandarin--" "Lo-Keong. Why Forge hates him." "So he says. But this Mandarin, as I've heard from the Major, is high in favour with the Chinaman's court. If the doctor was his enemy, he could not go so often to China as he does. And since your father's death fifteen years ago, he's been back several times." "Well I'll speak to him, John." "And about the money, sir?" Rupert sat down again. "I don't know what to do," he groaned. "I can manage to stave off many of the creditors, but if Miss Wharf forecloses the mortgage at Christmas everyone will come down with a rush and I'll have to give up Royabay to the creditors." "Never--never--that will never be," said John fiercely, "why the place has been under the Ainsleighs for over three hundred years." "I don't think that matters to the creditors," said Rupert wincing, "if I could only raise this thirty-thousand and get the land clear I would be able to live fairly well. There wouldn't be much; still I could keep the Abbey and we could live quietly." "_We_ sir?" asked the old man raising his head. Rupert flushed, seeing he had made a slip. He did not want to tell the old man that he was married, as he was fearful lest the news should come to Miss Wharf's ears and render his wife's position with that lady unbearable. "I might get married you know," he said in an evasive way. "Lord, sir," cried Petley in terror, "whatever you do, don't cumber yourself with a wife, till you put things straight." "Heaven only knows how I am to put them straight," sighed Rupert. "I say, John, send me in some tea. I'm quite weary. Thorp is coming to see me next week and we'll have a talk." "With Dr. Forge I hope," said old John, as he withdrew. Ainsleigh frowned, when the door closed. Petley certainly seemed possessed by the idea that Forge was an enemy of the Ainsleighs, yet Rupert could think of no reason why he should be. He had been an excellent guardian to the boy, and if he had not told him the full extent of the ruin till it was too late to prevent it, he might have done so out of pity, so that the lad's young years might be unclouded. "Still it would have been better had he been less tender of my feelings and more considerate for my position," thought Rupert as he paced the long room. While he was sadly looking out of the window and thinking of the wrench it would be to leave the old place, he saw a tall woman walking up the avenue. The eyes of love are keen, and Rupert with a thrill of joy recognised the stately gait of Olivia. With an ejaculation of delight, he ran out, nearly upsetting Mrs. Petley who was coming into the Library with a dainty tea. Disregarding her exclamation of astonishment, Rupert sprang out of the door and down the steps. He met Olivia half way near the ruins of the Abbey. "My dearest," he said stretching out both hands, "how good of you to come!" Olivia, who looked pale, allowed him to take her hands passively. "I want to speak to you," she said quickly, "come into the Abbey," and she drew him towards the ruins. "No! No," said her husband, "enter your own house and have a cup of tea. It is just ready and will do you good." "Not just now, Rupert," she replied, laying a detaining hand on his arm. "I can wait only for a quarter of an hour. I must get back." Rupert grumbled at the short time, but, resolved to make the most of it, he walked with her into the cloisters. These were small but the ruins were very beautiful. Rows of delicately carved pillars surrounded a grassy sward. At the far end were the ruins of the church stretching into the pines. The roofless fane looked venerable even in the bright sunshine. The walls were overgrown with ivy, and some of the images over the door, still remained, though much defaced by Time. The windows were without the painted glass which had once filled them, but were rich with elaborate stone work. This was especially fine in the round window over the altar. As in the cloisters, the body of the church was overgrown with grass and some of the pillars had fallen. The lovers did not venture into the ruined church itself but walked round the pavement of the cloisters under the arches. Doubtless in days of old, many a venerable father walked on that paved way. But the monks were gone, the shrine was in ruins, and these lovers of a younger generation paced the quiet cloisters talking of love. "My darling," said the young husband fondly, "how pale you are. I hope nothing is wrong." "My aunt is ill. Oh it's nothing--only a feverish cold. She hopes to be well enough to attend the ball to-morrow night." "I did not hear of it," said Rupert, "though Tidman generally tells me the news. I have been in London for the last few days." "So I see," said Olivia, and glanced at her fair stalwart husband in his frock coat and smart Bond street kit, "how well you look." Rupert appreciated the compliment and taking her hands kissed both several times. Olivia bent forward and pressed a kiss on his smooth hair. Then she withdrew her hands. "We must talk sense," she said severely. "Oh," said Rupert making a wry face, "not about your aunt?" "Yes. I can't understand her. She has shut herself up in her room and refuses to see me. She will admit no one but Miss Pewsey." Ainsleigh shrugged his shoulders. "What does it matter," he said, "you know Miss Wharf never liked you. You are much too handsome, my own. And that is the reason also, for Miss Pewsey's dislike." "Oh, Miss Pewsey is more amiable," said Olivia, "indeed I never knew her to be so amiable. She is always chatting to me at such times as she can be spared from my aunt's room." "Well, what is worrying you?" "This exclusion from Aunt Sophia's room," said Olivia with tears of vexation in her dark eyes. "I am her only relative--or at all events I am her nearest. It seems hard that she should exclude me, and admit Miss Pewsey who is only a paid companion." "I don't think it matters a bit," said Rupert, "hasn't your aunt seen anyone lately?" "No,--yes, by the way. She has seen her lawyer several times." "I expect she is altering her will." Olivia laughed. "She threatens to do so in favour of Miss Pewsey, unless by the end of the month I give you up, and engage myself either to Mr. Walker or to Mr. Burgh." Rupert grew very angry. "What a detestable woman," he exclaimed. "I beg your pardon, dear, I forgot she's your aunt. But what right has she to order you about like this? You are of age." "And I am married, though she doesn't know it. But I'll tell you the real reason, I am vexed I can't see my aunt. Can't we sit down?" "Over there," said Ainsleigh, pointing to a secluded seat. It was placed at the far end of the cloisters under a large oak. There were four oaks here, or to be more correct, three oaks and the stump of one. "That was destroyed by lightning when I was born," said Rupert, seeing Olivia's eyes fixed on this. "Mrs. Petley saw in it an omen that I would be unlucky. But am I?" and he fell to kissing his wife's hands again. "Really, Rupert, you must be more sensible," she said, in pretended vexation. "What a pretty tree that copper-beech is." "Yes! But do you see the blackened square?" "It is not so very black," said Mrs. Ainsleigh, pausing to dig the point of her umbrella into the ground, "there's hardly any grass on it, and the earth is dark and hard. Curious it should be so, seeing the grass is thick and green all round, I suppose this is where Abbot Raoul was burnt." "Yes. I've told you the story and shown you the spot many times," said Rupert, slipping his arm round her waist. "Dearest," she whispered, "I was too much in love, to hear what you said on that point. And remember, all my visits to the Abbey have been secret ones. My aunt would be furious did she know that I had been here, and I often wonder that Pewsey, who is always watching me, has not followed me here." "If she does I'll duck her in the pond for a witch," said Rupert, and drew his wife to the seat under the oak, "well, go on." "About my aunt. Oh, it's what Major Tidman told me. He's been trying to see Aunt Sophia also. Have you heard what Mr. Burgh told the Major about that horrid fan?" "No. You forget, I have just returned from town. What is it?" Olivia related to Rupert the story which Clarence had told the Major. "So you see," she ended, "this man Hwei wants to kill any one who has the fan, and Tung-yu desires to reward the person who brings it back." "It seems contradictory," said Ainsleigh thoughtfully, "and if Hwei put in the advertisement it is strange that Tung-yu should have received me in the joss-house mentioned in the paper. Well?" "Well," said Olivia rather vexed, "can't you see. I want my aunt to know that she is in danger and get rid of that horrid fan." "Pooh," said her husband laughing, "there's no danger. Hwei can't kill an old lady like that for the sake of a fan she would probably sell for five shillings." "She wouldn't," said Olivia with conviction. "Aunt Sophia has taken quite a fancy to that fan. But she ought to be told how dangerous it is, Rupert." "Or how lucky," said Ainsleigh, "let her sell the fan to Tung-yu for five thousand pounds and then she can let Hwei kill Tung-yu." "But would he do so." "I can't say. On the face of it, it looks as though these two were working against one another, seeing they propose to reward the owner of the fan in such different ways. Yet Hwei, according to Burgh, put the advertisement in and Tung-yu received me. I don't understand." "Well, don't you think I should tell the whole story to my aunt?" "Yes. Go in and see her." "Miss Pewsey won't let me, and my aunt refuses to admit me. I sent in a note the other day saying that I wished to speak very particularly, and she sent out another note to say that she would not see anyone till she was well. The note was kind enough in Aunt Sophia's cold way, but you see----" "Yes! Yes! Well then let Tidman see her." "Rupert, how annoying you are. She won't see anyone but Miss----" "Miss Pewsey. Well then, tell her the story, and she can repeat it to your aunt. Though, by the way," added Ainsleigh, "Burgh may have told Miss Pewsey about it already." "Yes," said Olivia, her face brightening, and rising to go away, "but I'll ask Miss Pewsey to tell Aunt Sophia herself." As they walked towards the ruined entrance, Mrs. Petley's bulky form appeared in the archway. She threw up her hands. "Sakes alive, Master Rupert, come off Abbot Raoul's burning-place." Ainsleigh, who was standing on the square of blackened ground, obeyed at once, and drew Olivia away also. "I forgot," he murmured. "Forgot what?" asked Olivia. "Why miss," said the old housekeeper, "don't you know it's said that if an Ainsleigh stands there, some trouble will befall him before the year's end, You're not an Ainsleigh miss, but Master Rupert--well there--oh sir, how can you be so foolish. The tea's ready sir," and Mrs. Petley, with this prosaic ending trotted away. "She doesn't know that you are an Ainsleigh," said Rupert kissing his wife, "pah, Don't think of that foolish superstition. Come to--" "No, Rupert," said Olivia, planting herself firmly against the wall, "you know I said a quarter of an hour. It's half an hour we have been talking. I must get back." The young husband urged, implored, scolded, cajoled, but all to no effect. Olivia made up her mind to go, and go she did, Rupert escorting her to the gates. "You are very unkind," he said. "I am very sensible," she replied, "I don't want to disturb my new relations with Miss Pewsey. She has such power over my aunt that it is necessary I should keep on good terms with her. Now, Rupert, you must not come any further." "Just along the road." "Certainly not. All the gossips of Marport would talk. Good-bye. I won't be kissed again. Someone may be looking." Ainsleigh muttered a blessing on anyone who might be about, and shook hands with his wife just as though they were strangers. Then he remained at the gate till she turned the corner. There, she looked back and Rupert threw her a kiss. Olivia shook a furious sunshade at him for the indiscretion. "The silly boy," she said to herself as she went along, "if anyone saw him, there would be a fine story all over Marport." CHAPTER VIII THE BEGINNING OF THE BALL So this was the position of affairs immediately before the ball given by the Glorious Golfers at the Bristol Hotel. Miss Wharf possessed the fan, and two Chinamen were searching for it. Hwei intended to secure it by murder, and Tung-yu by the milder means of honourable purchase: but why the two, with such contradictory intentions, should work in unison, as appeared from the advertisement, Rupert could not understand. However, he had so much trouble himself that he dismissed the matter from his mind. There was little chance of his benefiting by money from the one Chinaman, or of being murdered by the other. And he presumed that Olivia would instruct Miss Pewsey to tell Miss Wharf about the fan, even if she did not see her personally. And while Miss Wharf was ill and safe in her house, Hwei could not get at her in any way. Moreover, as Burgh in his interview with Hwei near the Mansion House, had held his tongue, the man would not know where the fan was. The ball was the best of the Marport season, as the Glorious Golfers were a body of young men with plenty of money and a great love of amusement. The vast apartments of the Bristol were thrown open, and decked with flowers; an Irish Band,--The Paddies,--was engaged from London, and many people came down from the great city to be present. It was a perfect night when the ball was held, and the terrace on the first floor of the hotel, or to speak more properly the balcony, was thronged with people. It looked very pretty, as it was filled with tropical ferns and plants and trees, illuminated with Chinese lanterns and made comfortable with numerous arm chairs, and plenty of small marble-topped tables. Between the dances, people finding the rooms too warm, came out to walk in the night air. There was no moon, but the night was starry and warm, and a soft luminous light was reflected on sea and land. Standing under the great fern-trees and amidst the fairy lights, the guests could survey with pleasure the vast waste of water stretching towards the clear horizon, and see the long pier glittering with innumerable lights. Needless to say, the terrace was much frequented by amorous couples. Within, the ball-room, gay with flowers and draperies, with a waxed floor and many electric light in coloured globes, looked very pretty. The band was hidden behind a lofty floral screen, and played the latest seductive waltzes, interspersed with inspiriting barn-dances and quaint cake-walks. The women were lovely, and the dresses perfect, so the young men enjoyed themselves not a little. Rupert was present, looking handsome in his evening dress, but rather flushed and anxious. He was not sure if Miss Wharf would come, in which case Olivia would not be present. And, if the old maid did recover sufficiently to make her appearance, she would perhaps refuse to allow him to dance with the girl. However Miss Wharf did appear though at a somewhat late hour. She was gowned in pale blue and looked very handsome, if somewhat stout. Olivia's dark beauty revealed itself in a primrose-hued dress, and Miss Pewsey looked more like a witch than ever in a black frock glittering with jet. This was the gift of Miss Wharf, as poor Miss Pewsey would never have been able to indulge in such extravagance. At the back and in attendance on the Ivy Lodge party, were Clarence Burgh and Dr. Forge. The buccaneer looked picturesque and dashing as usual and was dressed very quietly for one of his flamboyant tastes, though he showed to disadvantage beside the perfection of Rupert's garb. Forge wore a suit which might have been made for his grandfather, and which fitted his lank form ill. The doctor looked less his cool self, than was usually the case. His parchment face was flushed and his melancholy eyes glittered as they roved round the brilliant room. Rupert wondered if he was looking for Tung-yu, and glanced round the room himself to see if the Chinaman had arrived in Chris Walker's company. But he could not perceive him. Putting his fortune to the test, and having come to no open rupture with the lady, Rupert boldly walked up to Miss Wharf and offered his hand. She gave him rather a peculiar look and coloured a little. But to his secret satisfaction she received him very kindly. Olivia took her husband's greeting with a quiet smile, rather cold, as she knew well Miss Pewsey was watching her face. As to that lady, she hovered round the group like an ugly old fairy, about to weave the spell. "And where is the Major?" asked Miss Pewsey in her emphatic way, "surely he is present on this occasion." "I am sorry to say that the Major is laid up with a bad cold," said Rupert. "I have just been to see him. He is not coming." "A cold spoils his beauty," tittered Miss Pewsey, "dear me, how very vain that man is." "A cold has not spoilt Miss Wharf's beauty at all events," said Ainsleigh, seeing his way to a compliment. "I never saw you look so well," he added with a bow. "Thanks to Lavinia's nursing," laughed the lady. "Olivia can you keep still while that delicious music is playing. I'm sure Mr. Burgh--" "I think Miss Rayner is engaged to me," put in Rupert promptly. Miss Wharf tapped him on the shoulder with the very fan, about which there had been so much talk. "No I can't spare you," she said amiably. "I want to chat with you. Olivia?" The girl exchanged a look with her husband and saw that his eyes were fastened on the fan. Resolved to give him a chance of talking to her aunt about it, she moved away on the arm of the buccaneer to join in the whirling throng. Forge offered his arm to Miss Pewsey, not to dance, but to escort her on to the terrace, and so it came about that aunt Sophia and Rupert were left alone in a quiet corner of the room. Miss Wharf cast a side glance at the young man and seeing how handsome and gay he was, she heaved a sigh. Perhaps she was thinking of his father whom she had loved dearly, but if so, the emotion was only momentary, for she compressed her lips and drew herself up stiffly. "Mr. Ainsleigh," she said, "you never come to see me now. How is that?" "I thought you did not wish to see me," said Rupert frankly. "Oh yes I do. Your father was an old friend of mine, and for his sake I wish to be kind to you." Rupert saw that she was unaware that he had met Olivia secretly, and had heard the story of the early romance. It was not wise, he thought, to bring up the subject, so he met her on her own ground. "You can be very kind to me if you wish," he said casting a significant glance on Olivia who floated past with Burgh. Miss Wharf followed his gaze and frowned, shaking her head. "No," she said severely, "you must give up the idea of marrying Olivia." "I can't do that," replied Rupert, thinking of his secret marriage, "and I don't see why you should refuse to let me love her." "I can't prevent that," snapped Miss Wharf, "love her as much as you choose, but as another man's wife," and again she looked oddly at Rupert, who wondered what she meant. "What an immoral remark," he said, "perhaps you will explain." "Mr. Ainsleigh I will be frank with you," said the lady calmly, "you have no money, and are liable to lose Royabay. I hold a mortgage it is true and by the end of the year I can foreclose; but that, I shall not do if you give up Olivia. If I foreclose, you know well enough that your other creditors will come down on you, and you will lose all. I hold the scales," added she significantly. "I see that well enough Miss Wharf, but many things may happen before the end of the year." "You mean that you will get the money to pay me and others?" "I might even mean that," answered Rupert coolly, "and if I am a bad match, I don't think Mr. Burgh is a better. I have at least a position and a clean name." "What do you know about Clarence Burgh?" she asked quickly. "Nothing, save that he is an adventurer, Miss Wharf. He comes from nowhere, and swaggers about Marport as if it belonged to him. He has no recognised position and he is not a gentleman." "Oh but he is, and I want him to marry Olivia." "And thus you would condemn Olivia to misery. She loves me--" "A girl's love," said Miss Wharf coolly, "she'll soon get over that. Mr. Burgh is Lavinia's nephew, and I have promised Lavinia that Olivia shall be his wife." "Why in heaven's name?" asked Rupert angrily, "he has no money." "Oh yes he has, and may have a chance of getting more. Lavinia has been a good friend to me for years and years--all my life in fact, Mr. Ainsleigh. I owe much to her, and I intend to repay her. Her heart is set on this match and Olivia must marry Clarence." "Olivia shall not." "Olivia shall. I set my will against yours Mr. Ainsleigh." "You'll find my will is stronger," said Rupert coolly. Miss Wharf gave a short laugh. "Try," she said curtly; then her hard eyes softened and her cold manner grew warmer. "Don't let us quarrel," she said gently. "I wish you well, and would give you anything save Olivia--" "Which is the only thing I want." "How rude of you to call Olivia a 'thing,'" said the woman lightly, "you may make up your mind that if you marry her, I shall leave my money to Miss Pewsey." "Do so. I don't want your money." "Five hundred a year is not enough," sneered Miss Wharf, "but I may have more. What do you say to five thousand--" "Oh," interrupted Rupert coolly, "so Olivia has told you about the fan--or perhaps Miss Pewsey." "It was Olivia. I believe Clarence Burgh told her. This fan," Miss Wharf unfurled the article, "means five thousand pounds--" "Or a cut throat," said Rupert quickly. "Pah! how foolish you are, as though such a thing could happen in England. Were we in China I admit that I should be afraid to keep this fan; but as it is I am perfectly safe. See here, Mr. Ainsleigh," she added bending towards him, "if you will give up Olivia I will give you this fan and you can get the money to pay off your creditors." "No," said Rupert at once. "I need thirty thousand, not five. And even if you were to give me the thirty thousand I need, I would not sell Olivia for that sum." "Look at the fan first," said Miss Wharf and gave it to him. Rupert's nerves thrilled as he took the dainty trifle in his hand. So much had been said about it, so much hung on it, of the meaning of which he was ignorant, that he could not look at it without feeling the drama it represented. Balzac's remark about killing a Mandarin in China to obtain a fortune, occurred to his mind. This fan dainty and fragile, might cost the life of such a Mandarin. It all depended into whose hands it fell. The fan was exactly as the advertisement described. On one side the pale green sticks were enamelled and smooth; on the other thin slivers of jade covered the wood, and were inscribed in quaint Chinese characters in gold. The handle was of gold, and therefrom hung a thick cord of yellow silk, with four beads and half a bead thereon. Three beads and the half one were of jade, but the remaining ball was of jasper. What these might mean Rupert could not understand, but apparently they were connected with the secret of the fan, whatever that might be. Certainly, whatever its significance, the secret dealt with the life of Lo-Keong, with the life of Dr. Forge, and with the life of Miss Wharf, seeing she now possessed the article. All the time Rupert furled and unfurled the fan, admiring its beauty, she kept her cold eyes on him. "Think," she whispered, "five thousand pounds may gain you a few months respite--you may be able to save the Abbey." Rupert shook his head. "If I lose Olivia I don't care about keeping Royabay. It can be sold up and I'll go abroad to the Colonies to work for my living." "Without Olivia." "No. With Olivia. Nothing will buy her from me." Miss Wharf finding all her arts fail, snatched the fan from him, and bit her lip. Her eyes flashed, and she seemed on the point of making some remark, but refrained. "Very good, Mr. Ainsleigh," said she. "I'll see what I can do with Olivia. You have ruined her." "What do you mean by that, Miss Wharf." "You'll find out my friend," she replied clenching the fan fiercely. "Oh, I am not so blind, or so ignorant as you think me." Ainsleigh turned crimson. He wondered if by any chance she had heard of the marriage, and it was on the tip of his tongue to put a leading question to Miss Wharf, when Chris Walker came up. He was not alone. With him was a small Chinaman with the impassive face of the Celestial. Tung-yu--as Rupert guessed he was--wore a gorgeous yellow gown, with a kind of blue silk blouse over it. His feet were encased in thick Chinese shoes wonderfully embroidered and his pig-tail was down. Several ladies cast avaricious looks at these gorgeous vestments, and especially at the blouse, which was heavy with dragons woven in gold thread. In his thin yellow hand with long finger-nails, Tung-yu held a small ivory fan, and he stood impassively before Miss Wharf, not even casting a look at the fan in her hand, which he was prepared to buy at such a large price. "This is Mr. Tung-yu," said Chris boyishly. "He wants to meet you, Miss Wharf. He admires English ladies." "I fear I can't speak his language, Chris." "He can speak ours to perfection," said Walker. Tung-yu bowed politely and spoke in admirably chosen English. "I was at Cambridge," he said calmly, "and I know of your Western culture. If you will permit me, madam." He took a seat beside Miss Wharf. Chris, seeing his friend well established looked around. "Where is Miss Rayner?" he asked. "Oh there she is--the dance is over." And so it was. The dancers were streaming out on to the balcony and the room was almost empty. Burgh, with Olivia on his arm, came towards Miss Wharf, and Chris hurried forward to ask Miss Rayner for a dance. But quick as he was, Rupert was quicker. He had seen his wife dance with one admirer, and was not going to let her dance with another. "Miss Rayner is engaged to me," he said, and offered his arm with a defiant look at Burgh, to whom he had not been introduced. Burgh showed no disposition to let Olivia go, and scowled. But his eye fell on the Chinaman seated by Miss Wharf, and he suddenly moved away. It seemed to Rupert that the buccaneer was afraid. Chris remained to protest, but Ainsleigh ended the matter by abruptly taking Olivia out of the room. Miss Wharf frowned when she saw them depart and opened her mouth, as though to call Olivia back. But on second thoughts she contented herself with another frown and then turned to speak to Tung-yu. "I have heard of you," she said. "From my friend, Mr. Walker," said the polite Chinaman. "Oh yes, and from someone else, through a third party. I heard of your advertisement----" "What advertisement?" asked Tung-yu. "About this fan," and Miss Wharf waved it under Tung-yu's narrow eyes, which did not change their expression of indifference. "I do not understand, Madam!" The lady looked astonished. "Why. Didn't you advertise for the fan?" Tung-yu permitted himself to smile. "Who told you I did?" he asked. "Mr. Ainsleigh, who left just now, told a friend of mine, who told me," said Miss Wharf. "I understood you wished to possess this fan." "No," said Tung-yu indifferently, "the advertisement was placed in the paper, by a compatriot of mine called Hwei. He asked me to see anyone who called about it, as he was engaged. I saw Mr. Ainsleigh and told him what he told your friend. You must apply to Hwei." "And have my life taken," said Miss Wharf with a shudder. This time the Chinaman was not able to suppress a start. "I do not quite understand, Madam?" he reflected. "Oh, yes, you do, Mr. Tung-yu. Hwei would murder me to get this fan. I prefer to sell it to you for five thousand pounds." The Chinaman's face became impassive again, though his eyes looked surprised. "I assure you, this is quite wrong, Madam. My friend Hwei wants the fan, because it belongs to a Mandarin who received it as a gift from his dead wife. So dearly does this Mandarin prize it, that he is willing to buy it at any price." "Even five thousand pounds?" "I believe so. This Mandarin is rich." He turned his narrow eyes again on the lady. "Did the person who said that Hwei would go as far as crime, tell you the Mandarin's name?" "No. Who is the Mandarin?" "I fear I cannot tell you madam. Hwei did not tell me. If you like I will bring him to you." Miss Wharf hesitated. Her avarice was aroused by the hope of getting rid of a trifle for five thousand pounds but she did not wish to risk herself alone with a blood-thirsty celestial. "If you will come also," she said, hesitating. Tung-yu reflected. "Madam, I will be plain with you," he said gravely, "as I am here, I can act on behalf of my friend Hwei--but to-morrow." Miss Wharf tendered the fan. "Why not take it to-night and give me a cheque," she said quickly. "To-morrow," replied the Chinaman, rising and bowing politely, "I will call on you, if you will permit me. Mr. Walker will show me the way. I will then arrange to buy the fan at a price to which you will not object. Meanwhile--" he bowed again and gravely departed. Miss Wharf, rather annoyed and surprised by this behaviour, looked round for Miss Pewsey, to whom she was accustomed to tell everything. The little woman appeared at that moment pushing her way through the crowd in a state of excitement. "Oh, Sophia!" she said, throwing herself down. "Oh, Sophia." "What's the matter?" asked Miss Wharf coldly. "I might ask you," said Miss Pewsey, parrying the question, "you look so upset, my Sophia." "It is with pleasure then," said the old maid, dryly, "I have arranged to sell this fan to-morrow for five thousand pounds." "Oh," Miss Pewsey clasped her hand, "What joy; you will be able to add to your income. But, Sophia, I really can't keep it any longer. That Major Tidman----" "Well. What about him?" "Mr. Ainsleigh said he had a cold and was confined to his room. I went up to see, as I don't trust that Major a bit. He's so wicked. I went to his room, and peeped in. Sophia," added Miss Pewsey in a tragic manner. "He is not there--the room is empty!" CHAPTER IX THE END OF THE BALL Miss Wharf looked at her excited little friend with an indulgent smile. "Really I don't see why you should trouble," she said with a smile. "Let the Major do what he likes." "He's up to some mischief," persisted the old maid, "and I'd like to find out what it is. He is supposed to be keeping his room, because of a cold, and I find he is not in. People with colds," added the lady, impressively, "do not go into the night air." "How do you know Major Tidman has?" "Because he would be at the ball, were he in the hotel. I shall ask Clarence to see what he is doing." "Why?" asked Miss Wharf, puzzled. "Because--oh, just because," replied Miss Pewsey, tossing her head in a sharp way, like the Red Queen in Alice's Adventures. "But the fan, dearest Sophia?--Can't I take charge of it?" Miss Wharf grasped the fan tighter. "No, certainly not. It is worth five thousand pounds." "And perhaps more," said Miss Pewsey. "Remember, dearest Sophia, that is the sum offered, but you might ask more. It is very important that this Mandarin should get the fan back. Dr. Forge told me." "Why is it important?" "Theophilus didn't tell me that, but he said that this Mandarin--I quite forget his queer name--would give even more than five thousand to get it back." "His emissary didn't seem very anxious to buy." "Oh, that is craft," rejoined Miss Pewsey, tossing her head. "The Chinese are very double, Theophilus says." "I don't think so, Lavinia. I would have sold this fan for a few pounds had I not known such a large sum was offered. Tung-yu is not a good business man, or else the Mandarin must be a millionaire." "He is--he is. I wish you would let me conduct the business, and _do_ let me take the fan?" "No, I shall keep it." "Sophia," said Miss Pewsey, solemnly, "that is dangerous. Rupert Ainsleigh hates you and needs money; he might kill you to get that fan, and sell it for five----" "Nonsense. I cannot be murdered in a house full of people like this. I know another Chinaman hints at murder--you told me so----" "Olivia told me to tell you," put in the little woman, quickly. "Well, Hwei isn't here, and I'll sell the fan to Tung-yu to-morrow." Miss Pewsey would have said more, but at this moment Dr. Forge approached, with a crooked elbow and a dreary smile. "Allow me to take you into supper, Miss Wharf." "Certainly," she rose and took the arm. "I am really hungry. Lavinia?" "I shall look for Clarence. I must find out what has become of Major Tidman," and the old maid hurried away while the doctor escorted Miss Wharf to the supper-room. Clarence was not drinking at the buffet, though his aunt went there to find him as the most likely place. Nor was he in the ball-room, although a new dance had begun. She could not see him in the card-room, but finally ran him to earth on the terrace, where he was leaning against a tree-fern with folded arms and with his wicked black eyes fixed on a couple some distance away. Miss Pewsey followed his gaze and her eyes also flashed, for she beheld Rupert talking with Olivia. Both their heads were bent, and they conversed earnestly. The little woman hated Olivia and detested Rupert, so the sight was gall and worm-wood to her. "Why don't you ask her to dance?" she demanded, touching her nephew's arm. "Because there would only be a row," he rejoined sullenly. "I feel inclined to spoil that chap's looks I can tell you." "Do you really love the girl, so?" "Yes I do. I'd give anything to marry her, and I shall too." "There's not the slightest chance. Ainsleigh will not surrender her I can tell you." "Then why did you make me waste that fan." "You didn't waste it on her," said Miss Pewsey coldly, "she refused to take it like a fool, and now Sophia has it, there is no chance of getting it back. Had I known the fan was of such value, you wouldn't have caught me advising you to part with it. If you knew what this Hwei said, why didn't you tell me the fan was valuable." "I did not see Hwei until I had parted with the fan," said Clarence crossly, "and we can do nothing now." "You are not so bold as Major Tidman," she whispered. "What's that?" asked the buccaneer sharply. "He's not in his room," rejoined Miss Pewsey in a low voice, "he pretends illness, to carry out his plan to get the fan." "How do you know that?" "Because Tung-yu is in the hotel. The Major will try and get the fan to sell it to him." "In that case he would have come to the ball and have seen Miss Wharf to get it from her." "No. He has some other plan. What it is I don't know. But I wish you would look round for him, Clarence, and watch him." "Bah! It's all stuff." Burgh turned to look at the sea and the pier and the luminous night. "I'm getting sick of this business," he went on discontentedly, "and but for the chance of gaining Olivia, I would bunk out on the long trail. There's a barky out there," he continued pointing to the right of the pier, "yonder--the one with the green light. I saw her anchor early in the afternoon--a kind of gentleman's yacht I fancy. She'd just do for me. I'd like to take a boat and pull out to her and then get up steam for the South Seas. There's a clear path leads there, down channel," and he stared at the flickering green light which winked amongst many red ones. "You'll never get Olivia," said Miss Pewsey, in a sharp tense voice, "and you can go away as soon as you like. Meantime, look for Major Tidman and tell him I want him." Clarence lazily stretched himself, and moved off along the balcony. At the end there was a flight of shallow steps leading down to an iron gate which was open. Thence one could pass to the Esplanade and the beach, if so inclined. But the guests kept to the populous end of the balcony where the lights clustered. Near the stairs, there were hardly any lamps, and a screen of flowers curtained it off from the rest of the hotel. Clarence passed through this floral arch, and Miss Pewsey lost sight of him. Her eyes turned to the couple she hated, and she carelessly moved near them. No one noted her as the balcony was not so full, and she sat down behind a fern where she could hear without being seen by the two, she was spying on. Their voices were low, but hate sharpened Miss Pewsey's ears, and she listened intently. "My aunt is much more amiable to-night," Olivia was saying, "I suppose the chance of making five thousand pounds has appealed to her." "She gave me the chance of making it, provided I gave you up," said Rupert, "and she lost her temper with me because I declined." "Will you never be friends with her?" "I fear not, while Miss Pewsey is in the way," said Rupert. "Olivia, it is that woman who makes all the mischief." "I think it is," replied the girl with a weary smile, "but she seems to have a kind of hypnotic power over my aunt--" "What do you mean?" "Aunt Sophia has bad headaches and Miss Pewsey sometimes hypnotises her to send away the pain." "Miss Wharf is foolish to allow her to do such a thing. That little woman is no more to be trusted than her scamp of a nephew is." "Well it doesn't matter," said Olivia, feeling in her pocket. "I want to talk about ourselves. See Rupert you wanted a silk tie the other day. I have knitted you one--red and yellow." Rupert took the tie and admired it in the lamp light. He would have kissed Olivia's hand after a few words of warm thanks, but she prevented him. "Someone might see and tell Aunt Sophia," she said hurriedly, "I should have given it to you the other day when I called at the Abbey, but I forgot, so I decided to give it to you to-night. It's rather awkward your having it now. Give it to me again." "No! I'll put it in my overcoat in the cloak room," said Rupert, rising, "but I must take you back to Miss Wharf, or she will be angry." "I wish this deception was at an end and I could be with you altogether," said Olivia rising with a sigh. It was at this moment that Miss Pewsey chose to come forward. She was furious at the way in which the couple spoke of her, but long habit enabled her to smooth her face to a treacherous smile. "Oh dear Olivia," she said. "I have been looking for you everywhere." "Does my aunt want me?" asked the girl calmly. "No. She is in the supper-room with Mr. Forge. But Mr. Walker--" "I don't want him," said Miss Rayner quickly, and with a change of voice. "Yes--yes," said Rupert in a low voice. "Go with her, and dance with Walker; it will prevent Miss Wharf being cross." "Very well," rejoined Olivia quietly: then turned to Miss Pewsey who smiled like a grotesque image. "Let us go to the ball-room." "Won't Mr. Ainsleigh escort us?" asked the old maid, blandly. Rupert bowed, and smothering his feelings, which always revolted at the sight of the woman, he walked beside the two to the ball-room. Miss Pewsey took Olivia's arm and chattered effusively all the time. At the door they met Chris Walker, who hurried up at once and asked for a dance. Leaving the two ladies with him, Rupert went towards the cloak room. Here to his surprise he saw Major Tidman clothed in a heavy fur coat, talking to Tung-yu. Tidman looked white and uneasy, but the Chinaman still preserved his impassive face. Rupert took no notice but simply nodded to the Major as he passed, pulling out the yellow and red tie as he did so. Tidman changed colour, apparently not pleased at being found talking to Tung-yu, and laughed uneasily. "That's a bright piece of goods Ainsleigh." "It's a present," said Rupert thrusting the tie into the pocket of his over coat. "I should think it would match your friend's dress." "Hush," said Tidman quietly, "he speaks English. He will hear," then he added aloud. "Let me introduce you to Mr. Ainsleigh, Tung-yu." The Chinaman turned and looked impassive enough. But his eyes had an enquiring look in their black depths. "Tung-yu and I met in Canton, where we had an adventure," said the Major, with a titter. "About that famous fan?" asked Rupert smiling. Tung-yu started and looked quickly at Tidman, who was again pale. "I don't remember about the fan," said Tung-yu, "did our friend find it in Canton?" "No! No I never did," said Tidman hurriedly,--"that is Forge found the fan--" "And gave it to Miss Wharf. Quite so," replied Tung-yu blandly. "I see her to-morrow about the matter," then he bowed to Rupert and moved away slowly. "I thought you had a bad cold," said Rupert to Tidman, who was looking after the Chinaman with a scared expression. "Yes--yes--but that is better now," said the Major hurriedly, "so Miss Wharf is here, and has the fan?" "Yes, she offered to give it to me if I surrendered Olivia." "Refuse--refuse," cried Tidman hurriedly: he approached his lips to Ainsleigh's ears. "There is death in the air to-night." "Tidman," cried Ainsleigh starting away and staring. "Yes--yes--say nothing. I wish you hadn't mentioned about my having the fan. Tung-yu never knew--but it can't be helped. Ainsleigh, is there another Chinaman here to-night?" "I have seen none. Do you expect Hwei? If so we had better warn Miss Wharf. She has the fan and--" "No! No--say nothing. Don't touch the accursed thing." "How do you know it is accursed?" "I knew in Canton, and in a very unpleasant way. But I'll tell you my adventure to-morrow--yes I will--if nothing happens to-night." Rupert stared still harder. "What can happen to-night man alive?" "Nothing--nothing," said the Major hurriedly. "I'll get back to my room--you needn't say you have seen me. I--" "Just the man I want," cried a bold free voice, and Burgh's slim hand fell on the Major's shoulder. "Miss Pewsey asks for you." "For me. Any more trouble?" "I guess not. She wants to fuss round about your cold. Heaping coals of fire's the English of it." "Let her leave me alone," said the Major petulantly. "I'm quite well. I am going back to my room," and with a nod to Rupert, he marched out. Burgh looked after him with a smile and a shrug: then he turned to Rupert who was moving towards the door. "Can I speak with you?" he asked with a frown. "Not here Mr. Burgh," cried Ainsleigh, "this is not the place for a quarrel." "And why not," cried the other, advancing with clenched fists, "I--" "Keep your distance," said Ainsleigh sharply starting back on his guard, "the attendant is looking on," and he pointed to the man behind the counter who attended to the hats and cloaks. Burgh tossed him a shilling, "Go and get a drink," he ordered. "Stop where you are," commanded Rupert, "or I'll report you." But the man, who was a dissipated-looking waiter pretended not to hear this last remark, and disappeared from behind the counter. The two men were alone, and Burgh spoke first. "I guess I'm going to lay you out," said he, "on account of--" "Stop," said Rupert, "mention no names." "I'll mention what I like and Olivia--" Ainsleigh let drive before he could finish the word and in a second Burgh was sprawling on the floor. He rose with an oath and slipped round his right hand. "You draw a revolver and I'll break your neck," panted Rupert, "you bully, what do you mean by--" Burgh drew his hand away--perhaps he was afraid a shot would bring in others to see the fray. But he dashed again at the young man. A short struggle ensued, which ended in Burgh being thrown again. Then Rupert, disinclined for a vulgar row, walked away. He stopped at the door to give his antagonist a bit of advice. "You touch me again," he said, "and I'll hand you over to the police after giving you a good thrashing. It's what a bully like you deserves. And if you dare to speak to Miss Rayner I'll make Marport too hot to hold you." When Rupert vanished, Burgh raised himself slowly and with an evil smile. "Perhaps the place will be too hot for you my fine gentleman," he said savagely, and began to think. Meanwhile Rupert went to the ball-room and saw that Olivia was dancing with Dr. Forge. Chris Walker told him that Miss Wharf had gone on to the balcony for the fresh air. Miss Pewsey was not to be seen or Rupert would have told her to look after her disreputable relative in the cloak-room. The young man thought he would go up to the Major's room and have a smoke, when he felt a light touch on his shoulder. There stood Tung-yu. "Excuse me sir," said the Chinaman in his excellent English, "I am your friend. Major Tidman and Dr. Forge are your enemies, and you have a third enemy in that young man Burgh." "But how do you know--" began Rupert. Tung-yu bent forward and whispered. "I know how your father died," he said softly and before Rupert could detain him, he vanished. But Ainsleigh waited but for a moment. The speech was so surprising, that he determined to learn more. At once he ran after the Chinaman but could not see him. In spite of his noticeable clothes, he was swallowed up in the crowd and Rupert plunged into the gay throng determined to find the man who could solve the mystery of Markham Ainsleigh's death. The night wore on and the fun became fast and furious. Towards twelve the guests began to depart, but many choice spirits declared they would keep the ball rolling till dawn. One of these was Chris Walker, who had imbibed more champagne than was good for him. While he talked excitedly Miss Pewsey came to him hastily. "Where is my dear Sophia?" she asked, "I can't find her, and with her delicate health it is time she was home in bed." "I have not seen her. Have you, Dr. Forge?" The lean doctor shook his head, "I have been in the card room for the last hour," he said, "and as Miss Wharf's doctor I assuredly say, she should go home, there's midnight," and as he spoke the strokes boomed from a tall clock in the hall. "Clarence, have you seen her?" asked Miss Pewsey of the buccaneer who had Olivia on his arm. "No! I've just been waltzing with Miss Rayner." "Then you Mr. Ainsleigh?" "I have been smoking on the balcony," said Rupert, who looked tired. "Oh, dear me," said Miss Pewsey wringing her hands, "I wonder if dear Sophia has gone to see Major Tidman. She is so kind-hearted and he is ill--at least he says he is. Did he tell you Clarence?" "I saw him only for a minute and he went back to his room I guess." "Then Sophia must have gone there," cried Miss Pewsey and hurried away. Olivia followed with Forge as she thought also, that her aunt ought to go home, and Clarence's attentions were becoming so embarrassing that she feared there would be trouble with Rupert. But soon, Miss Pewsey appeared again and said that Miss Wharf was not in the Major's room, nor was the Major there. Taking Olivia and Clarence and Forge, she went to search for the missing lady. Rupert lingered behind as he did not wish to come into contact with the buccaneer. The hunt proceeded for some time, and every room in the hotel was searched. But Miss Wharf could not be found. Finally everyone--for many of the guests were hunting by this time--, went out on the balcony. Miss Wharf was not there. "Oh, dear me," cried Miss Pewsey, "wherever can she be." The balcony was searched from end to end. Then one of the guests more venturesome, descended the steps. He gave a cry of horror. "Bring a light," he cried. Lights were brought and everyone rushed after them. Half way down the steps lay Miss Wharf--dead--strangled, and round her throat tightly bound was a yellow and red silk tie. CHAPTER X A MYSTERIOUS CASE The murder of Miss Sophia Wharf at the Bristol Hotel ball made a great sensation. She had been well-known in Marport, and her many friends were enormously excited that each and everyone of them had been acquainted with a person who had been--as one of them put it--done to death. Also the circumstances of the murder were most extraordinary. It seemed almost incredible that a popular lady should be murdered in so public a place; though many said, that the safety of the assassin lay in the very fact that he had chosen to commit his crime a few yards away from a spot where many people were congregated. But who had killed Miss Wharf and why she was killed in so brutal a manner, no one could understand. When the local police heard of the assassination, an Inspector with two subordinates took possession of the hotel, and obtained from the manager a list of the guests present at the ball. As these amounted to something like two hundred, it seemed like looking for a needle in a haystack to search for the criminal amongst them. And many of them did not know Miss Wharf even by sight, so it was certain that the task of identifying the assassin would be one of enormous difficulty. And the question was asked on all hands. "What had taken the deceased lady down the little-frequented steps?" The fan was missing--Miss Pewsey noticed that, when she bent over the dead, but the story of the fan was not yet public property. According to custom the local police communicated with the Treasury, who placed the case in the hands of the Criminal Investigation Department, and thus it came about, that a plain clothes officer--in other words a detective--was sent down to Marport. This individual was called Rogers, and after paying a visit to the Superintendent of the Marport Police Office, he went to Ivy Lodge. Here, everything was gloomy and silent. The body of the unfortunate woman had been brought home, and was laid out for burial. Dr. Forge, who with others had been on the spot at the time of the discovery, examined the corpse, and asserted that the miserable woman must have been murdered just an hour, or half an hour previous. As midnight was chiming shortly before the discovery of the crime, it can be safely declared--and Dr. Forge did declare this--that Miss Wharf was strangled between eleven and twelve. When the corpse was found it was yet warm. Clarence haunted the Lodge and talked with his aunt, but Olivia kept to her own room. "Tung-yu did it of course," said Mr. Burgh decisively. "I reckon he came down to get that fan, and grudged giving so much cash for it. I surmise that he lured the old girl to those steps, and then slipped the silk string round her neck." "The silk tie," said Miss Pewsey whose eyes were very black and glittering, though red round the rims, from weeping. "How do you know it's a tie?" asked Clarence with a start. "I know," replied his aunt tightening her thin lips, "and I know to whom the tie belongs. But you say that Tung-yu?--" "Who else could have scragged the old girl aunt Lavinia. The fan's gone--leastways I didn't see it when we spotted the deader." Miss Pewsey nodded. "Yes, the fan is gone," she assented, "but if Tung-yu murdered dearest Sophia, he can easily be arrested." "Oh, I guess not," replied Mr. Burgh easily. "Tung-yu's no slouch, you bet, and didn't intend to lose his prize--" "The fan?" inquired Miss Pewsey. "Just so, the fan," replied Clarence imperturbably, "and he's on his way to China by this time." "Clarence?" Miss Pewsey rose, much excited; then calmed down. "I do not agree with you," said she firmly. "Tung-yu is innocent." "I'll lay a couple of dollars he isn't, Aunt Lavinia. Do you remember that yacht I pointed out to you last night. Well, t'was a steam deep-sea barky, two hundred tons, Lloyd's measurement I reckon--quite heavy enough to cut round the Cape into Chinese waters. Well, she arrived in the afternoon yesterday and after midnight she lighted out." "But how do you know Tung-yu was on board?" "Well, I only size that up," said Clarence musingly, "but it looks to me as though he'd engineered the job. 'Twould be easy I guess for him to have had a boat waiting for him. After he'd killed the old girl and annexed the fan, he could dance down those steps like a two year old and pick up the boat on the beach. Course it's all my fancy," added Burgh modestly, "but I guess I'm right." "I guess you're not," snapped Miss Pewsey in rather an unlady-like manner, and she rose to shake out her skirts. "I know who killed dearest Sophia," she added, wagging a lean finger at her nephew. "I know who possessed the tie, and I shall hand that man--" "Who the dickens is he anyhow?" "Rupert Ainsleigh," replied Miss Pewsey with a grim smile, and left the room, while the buccaneer stared, and then smiled. It was pleasant to think that his rival--as he considered Rupert,--should be in such straits and should be pursued by the vindictive hatred of Miss Pewsey, who would leave no stone unturned to bring about the conviction of young Ainsleigh. "Well," said the buccaneer with his hands in his pockets. "I guess I'm not taking a hand in this biznai, and it ain't lively round these quarters. I'll git." And this Mr. Burgh did. When he passed out of the front door, he brushed against a plainly dressed rubicund man with sharp grey eyes who glanced at him inquisitively. However, the stranger said nothing but proceeded to ring the bell. The maid-servant who appeared took him into the drawing-room and carried a card to Miss Pewsey. The name thereon was, Orlando Rodgers, C.I.D. With this in her hand Miss Pewsey sailed into the drawing-room and looked at the comfortable creature who rose to greet her. "Mr. Orlando Rodgers, C.I.D.?" queried the little old lady. "Criminal Investigation Department," said the man in a cool voice, and with a sharp glance at the dry drab woman, "I'm in charge of the Wharf Murder Case, and have been sent down by the Treasury. As I have seen the Superintendent and can learn nothing likely to throw light on the subject, I have come to you--a relative?" "No," answered Miss Pewsey sitting down, in a rigid way. "I am the companion of the late Miss Wharf. Her only relative, down here at all events, is Miss Olivia Rayner." "Can I see her?" "I think not--at present. She is in her room weeping. Though why she should display such grief I can't understand," added Miss Pewsey spitefully. "It's natural in a relative, miss," said the detective looking hard at the withered little face. Miss Pewsey laughed in a shrill manner, and spoke between her teeth more than ever, emphasising every word as usual. "Oh, dear me, no," said she. "Miss Wharf and Olivia never got on well. The girl hated her aunt, though dearest Sophia--Miss Wharf, you know, sir--brought her up, when she hadn't a shilling or a friend in the world." "To whom have I the honour of speaking?" asked Rodgers wondering how much of this spiteful speech was true, and seeing plainly enough that the speaker was no friend to the niece. "I am Lavinia Pewsey," said that lady, "and for years I have been the cherished friend and dearest companion of Sophia. We were at school together, and were--as I may say--like two cherries on one stalk. Anything I can do to avenge her death will be done." "Punishment by the law, doesn't come under the head of vengeance!" "It comes under the head of hanging, and I'll be glad to see the rope round his neck." "Of whom are you talking?" asked Rodgers phlegmatically. "Of the man who killed my dearest friend." "Oh. I understood from the Superintendent that the affair was quite a mystery." "Not to me," snapped Miss Pewsey, "Rupert Ainsleigh strangled her to get the fan." "What fan?" asked the detective taking out his note-book, "and who is Rupert Ainsleigh?" Miss Pewsey spread her skirts and folded her hands together in a prim way. "I shall tell you all," she cried, "and please take down all I say. I am prepared to make this statement in a law court." "Well," said Rodgers moistening his pencil, "you may have to. Now this Mr. Ainsleigh?----" "Of Royabay, a few miles from Marport," said Miss Pewsey, "quite one of the old families. A nice come down for the Ainsleighs, for the last of them to die on the gallows." "He is not there yet," said Rodgers dryly, "and may I ask you to speak in a more reasonable way. I see you don't like the man." "I hate him," Miss Pewsey drew a long breath, "and I hated his father before him, to say nothing of his mother, who was a cat." "Then your evidence is prejudiced, I fancy." "Never you mind, Mr. Orlando Rodgers," she replied sharply, "take down what I say, and then you can sift the matter out for yourself. My Sophia was murdered to obtain possession of a fan----" "What fan?" asked Rodgers again. Miss Pewsey smiled, and calmly detailed all she had learned from Dr. Forge concerning the fan. "You can ask my nephew, Clarence Burgh, about these things also," she ended, "and Dr. Forge, and Mr. Christopher Walker, who brought the Chinaman Tung-yu to the ball, and----" "Wait a bit," interrupted the detective, "it appears to me from what you say," he ran a quick eye over his notes, "that the suspicion points to these Chinamen you mention. They advertised, and they wanted the fan. Now Hwei--as I hear from you--was not at the ball, but Tung-yu was. Therefore Tung-yu----" "Didn't do it," said the little woman. "I don't pretend to understand why Hwei offered death and Tung-yu money for the possession of the fan; nor do I know why this Mandarin, whatever his name may be, is so anxious to get possession of the article. But I know that the fan is gone and that Tung-yu, who did not intend murder, hasn't got it." "Then who has?" "Rupert Ainsleigh. He went up about the advertisement and knew all about the fan. I believe he killed my Sophia, and got the fan, so as to sell it for five thousand to Tung-yu--" "But a gentleman of property wouldn't--" "A gentleman of property," snorted the old maid smoothing her dress, "why he's head over ears in debt and will lose Royabay before the end of the year on account of the foreclosure of a mortgage. He'd have done anything to get money, and five thousand pounds is not a small amount." "This is all very well: but I don't see how you connected Mr. Ainsleigh with the crime." "By means of the silk necktie," said Miss Pewsey with a triumphant smile, and related how Rupert had received the scarf from Olivia, "if he is guiltless how came his silk tie round the throat of Sophia?" Rodgers was shaken by this piece of evidence. "It looks queer I admit," he said: then added, "I understand that Mr. Ainsleigh is an admirer of Miss Rayner." "He wants to marry her, and she is in love with him," said Miss Pewsey, "which is an additional reason for the crime." "I don't understand." "You're not a sharp man," said the old woman tranquilly, "don't you see that as Miss Rayner inherits dearest Sophia's money, she will get the mortgage also. Then with that, and the five thousand pounds Mr. Ainsleigh would be free from his money-troubles. Well," she added sharply, as the detective rose, "what do you say?" "Nothing at present. Give me the address of Dr. Forge who, I believe, examined the body, and of your nephew and Mr. Ainsleigh." Miss Pewsey did this with alacrity and accompanied Rodgers to the door. "Don't spare him," she said venomously, "he's guilty and he shall hang," and she shut the door herself. "What a spiteful woman," mused Rodgers, leaving Ivy Lodge, "her story is so very explicit that I am inclined to doubt it. She wants this young man scragged. Why?" He could find no answer to this question, but went on his way to see Clarence Burgh. His interview with the buccaneer was brief. Clarence related the story of the yacht, and set forth his theory of Tung-yu. "Mind," said he, "I don't like Ainsleigh, as he's trying to run the girl I want to hitch long-side of. But I guess he didn't scragg the old girl." "You speak fairer than your aunt," said Rodgers dryly. Clarence heaved up his right shoulder. "Huh," said he, "if you go by woman's jaw, you'll get on the shoals. Tung-yu scragged the old girl, you bet, and he's on his way to China in that yacht." "Well, we'll see if we can't stop the yacht. She must coal somewhere. What is her name?" "The Stormy Petrel," said Clarence, "I got that out of a boatman, who was rowing about her yesterday." "Did he see any Chinaman on board?" "No. He didn't see anyone. There didn't appear to be anyone about, or else they were at tea," concluded Clarence ungrammatically. "Humph," said the detective, noting the name of the yacht, "do you know anything of the silk tie?" "No. Aunt Lavinia says it belongs to Ainsleigh, but I never saw it till it was round the throat of the old girl. I should like to think he put it there," said Clarence pleasantly, "for I want that chap out of the way; but I believe Tung-yu's the man." "Perhaps he is. Have you a copy of that advertisement?" "No. But I reckon Ainsleigh has. Ain't you going to see him?" Rogers nodded. "Straight away. And I thank you for what you have told me. You want him hanged I presume." "Well no I reckon not. He's in my way, but I can lay him out on my own, without the lynching biznai." "You are fairer than your aunt," said the detective once more. "Go slow. She's only an acid-drop, and you can't size her up, just as an ordinary girl. She was crazy on Markham, the father of this young Ainsleigh, and----" "And proposes to hang the son to avenge herself on his father. A nice woman, truly. But it seems to me Mr. Burgh that if anyone killed Miss Wharf, Hwei is the man." "Might be. He wasn't at the ball anyhow. Tung-yu was." "But Tung-yu--as I understand from Miss Pewsey--intended to call the next day--to-day that is--and buy the fan for five thousand." "Huh," Clarence heaved up his shoulder again, "perhaps he thought he'd settle in another way. 'Day. I'll be along here whenever you like to call. I wish to see this biznai through, you bet." Rodgers departed, and sought out Rupert at Royabay. The young man was walking up and down the terrace smoking furiously. At the sight of the stranger he frowned and Rodgers noted that he looked worn and ill. "Might be money worries," thought the detective, "and it might be the other thing." However, he kept these thoughts to himself and merely detailed what he had learned from Miss Pewsey and set forth the accusation she brought against him. Ainsleigh heard the detective quietly enough, and smiled wearily when the explanation was concluded. "Miss Pewsey doesn't love me," he said quietly, "and would like to see me out of the way, so that Miss Rayner could marry her nephew." "I see," nodded Rodgers, "Miss Rayner will have the dead lady's money, and the nephew is poor." "I really don't know," replied Rupert coldly, "Mr. Burgh is a mystery to me. He comes from nowhere, though I believe he has been in China." "And knows what about the fan?" "I think so. At all events, young Walker declares that Burgh was talking to a Chinaman near the Mansion House. Burgh admits this, and also admits that the Chinaman was Hwei, who put in that advertisement. "I'm inclined to suspect Hwei himself," said Rodgers looking keenly at the worn face of the young man, "but this silk tie----" "It is mine, Mr. Rodgers. Miss Rayner gave it to me last night." "So Miss Pewsey says--on the balcony." "Quite so. Miss Pewsey was spying and saw the tie given. As the colours are rather pronounced, she could easily identify it. I took it to the cloak-room and placed it in the pocket of my overcoat." "And took it out again?" "No." Rupert rose and grew crimson, "surely you are not so unjust as to believe Miss Pewsey's malignant tale." "You may be sure, Mr. Ainsleigh, that I'll act fairly towards you," said the detective dryly, "but the tie having been used to strangle--" "I don't know how it came round her throat," interrupted Ainsleigh imperiously, "I placed the tie in my overcoat pocket--that was the last I saw of it, until I noticed it on Miss Wharf's dead body." "Did anyone else see the tie?" "Yes, Major Tidman." "Who is he?" "A retired Army man--South American Army--who stops at Bristol Hotel. He is much respected here. I went to the cloak-room, and found him talking to Tung-yu. Both saw me place the tie in my coat." Rodgers sat up. "Oh," said he opening his eyes widely, "then Tung-yu saw you place the tie in the coat." "He did, but if you suspect he took it out again, I think you are wrong. He left the room and I exchanged a few words with Major Tidman." "What about?" "About this fan. Major Tidman told me to leave it alone. But of course I never intended to meddle with it. Miss Wharf had it, and she hated me too much to let me handle it, though she did give me the chance of making the money," said Rupert, with an after thought. "Eh, how was that?" "She offered to let me have the fan if I gave up my claim to Miss Rayner, whom she desired should marry Mr. Burgh, I refused." "Humph," said Rodgers again, "and how does Major Tidman come to know about the fan?" "I refer you to him for an answer." "And how did he come to know Tung-yu?" "I believe he met him in Canton," replied Rupert restlessly, "he had some adventure there--?" "Connected with this ubiquitous fan?" asked Rodgers sharply. "Yes. He promised to tell me the adventure to-day, but I had not seen him yet." "Humph. He may come after all. I'll call on this gentleman. At the Bristol you say. Quite so," Rodgers took a note. "Now then Mr. Ainsleigh, tell me how you came to go up about the advertisement?" Rupert related his father's dealings with Lo-Keong, and referred to the secret said to be connected with the fan. The detective heard him in silence, and appeared to be struck by his frankness. "I think it's one of the most complicated cases I ever had to do with, Mr. Ainsleigh, and will take a lot of searching into." "I hope you don't suspect me?" "Humph, the tie is, strangely enough, the rope used to strangle this woman, and you admit that it is yours. But Tung-yu saw you put it in your overcoat pocket, and he wanted the fan--" "For five thousand pounds remember. Hwei was the one who threatened to gain the fan, by killing." "Don't defend Tung-yu too much," said the detective dryly, "your position is not a pleasant one and--" "Do you mean to arrest me?" asked Rupert rising angrily. "Not at present. But no doubt at the inquest you can prove an alibi." Rupert turned away, "I can't," he said in a low voice, "I was walking outside smoking between eleven and twelve--on the beach." "That's a pity, Mr. Ainsleigh, I may have to arrest you after all. But who is this gentleman. Major Tidman!--quite so. Good-day Major." CHAPTER XI THE CANTON ADVENTURE Major Tidman who was standing at the foot of the terrace stared at the man before him. "How do you know my name?" he asked, and looked towards Rupert for a reply. Mr. Rodgers produced a red silk handkerchief and wiped his face for it was noon and very warm. "A guess on my part," he answered, "Mr. Ainsleigh said you might come here, to tell him of your Canton adventure, and I fancied it might be you, Major Tidman." "I am not aware," said the Major loftily, "why you should interest yourself in my private affairs." "I interest myself in everybody's private affairs, when they have to do with murder," said Rodgers quietly. Tidman stared and gasped. "Then you are?--" "The detective in charge of the Wharf murder case. I am glad to see you, sir," he laid a finger on Tidman's chest, "you have something to tell me no doubt?" "No," said the Major gasping again, "I have not." Rupert looked at him suddenly and the Major's small eyes fell before that direct gaze. "Let us go, into the library," said Ainsleigh tranquilly, "we may as well have a long talk before I am arrested." Tidman jumped. "Arrested," he cried staring. Something in his looks, made Rodgers take the cue thus offered, "I may have to arrest Mr. Ainsleigh for the murder," he said significantly. "But that's rubbish, why should he murder Miss Wharf?" "On account of the fan," put in Rupert grimly. "I'll never believe that--never," said Tidman vigorously. Rodgers looked at him sideways. "Well you see," said he in a cheerful voice. "Miss Wharf was strangled with a red and yellow silk tie, belonging to Mr. Ainsleigh." "I know, and I saw him place that tie in his overcoat pocket." "You say that. Quite so. Mr. Ainsleigh might have taken it out again." "No. He couldn't have done that. The attendant came back, and remained in the room all the rest of the evening." "How do you know that?" "Because I returned to the cloak-room to see if Mr. Ainsleigh was there. I learned from the attendant," said the Major volubly, "that Mr. Ainsleigh and Mr. Burgh had been fighting--" "Oh," said the detective, "so Mr. Burgh knew of the tie also?" "He did not," put in young Ainsleigh rapidly, "he came in, after I put the tie away. He insulted me, about--about a lady," said Rupert hesitating, "and I knocked him down twice." "Didn't the attendant interfere?" "No. Burgh threw him a shilling and told him to cut. I ordered the man to stay, but he obeyed Burgh. Then we had a row, and I went away." "Leaving Mr. Burgh in the cloak-room?" asked Rodgers shrewdly. "Yes. But he knew nothing about the tie. He could not have taken it. I am sure he didn't." The detective smiled in a puzzled manner. "Upon my word Mr. Ainsleigh, you defend everyone. First Tung-yu, now Mr. Burgh, who is your enemy." "I have so many enemies," said Rupert with a shrug, "Tung-yu told me that Burgh and Forge and Major Tidman were my enemies." "That's a lie on Tung-yu's part," chimed in the Major angrily. "I am not your enemy." Rupert turned on him quickly. "Prove it then," he said, sharply, "by stating that I was with you on the beach last night after eleven." "Oh, oh," cried Rodgers smiling, "so you can prove an alibi after all, Mr. Ainsleigh." "Yes," said Rupert shortly. "But I did not wish to speak, until I heard what Major Tidman had to say." Rodgers shook his head. "You have too nice a sense of honour," was his remark, "or else you are very deep." Rupert did not reply. His eyes were fixed on the Major's face, which changed to various colours. "You knew my father well Tidman?" "Yes. We were old friends--good friends," faltered the other. "Do you know how he died?" "No I do not." The Major wiped his face, "I can safely say I do not." "But you know he was murdered." The Major started. "Who told you that?" "Tung-yu, and you know Tung-yu, who might have explained the circumstances of my father's death to you." "He did not," said Tidman earnestly, "but I heard that Mr. Ainsleigh did die by violence. I don't know under what circumstances." "This is all very well gentlemen," said the detective, "but it does not help me." "It may help you, Mr. Rodgers. The murder of Miss Wharf is connected with this fan, and the Major can tell you about his Canton adventure which has to do with it also." Major Tidman turned grey and his face looked fearful, "I came to tell you, Rupert," he said trying to be calm, "but it won't help this man," he nodded towards Rodgers, "to find the assassin." "We'll see about that," replied Rodgers briskly, "let us go in and sit down. The fan is at the bottom of this business, and when I learn all about it, I may know how to act." The Major shrugged his plump shoulders and walked towards the open French window. When he passed through to the library, the detective and Ainsleigh followed. In a few minutes, they were comfortably seated. Rupert asked the two if they would have some refreshments, and receiving a reply in the affirmative, rang the bell. "Though mind you, Mr. Ainsleigh," said Rodgers, "this drinking a glass of wine doesn't stop me from arresting you, if I see fit." "You can set your mind at rest," said Rupert coldly, "I have no wish to tie you down to a bread and salt treaty. Some wine, Mrs. Petley." The housekeeper, who had entered, was as plump as ever, but her face looked yellow, and old, and haggard, and there was a terrified look in her eyes. In strange contrast to her usual volubility, she did not speak a word, but dropping a curtsey, went out. "That woman looks scared," said the detective. "She _is_ scared," assented Rupert, "we have a ghost here, Mr. Rodgers--the ghost of a monk, and Mrs. Petley thought she saw it last night." "Really," said the detective with good-humoured contempt, "she _thought_ she saw a ghost. What nonsense." "No, sir. It ain't nonsense." It was the housekeeper who spoke. Having seen the Major coming up the avenue, she knew that he would require his usual glass of port, and therefore had prepared the tray, while the conversation was taking place on the terrace. This accounted for her quick return, and she set down the tray with the jingling glasses and decanter as she spoke. "It was a ghost, sure enough," said Mrs. Petley, when the small table was placed before the three gentlemen, "the ghost of Abbot Raoul. I've seen him times and again, but never so plainly as last night. It was between eleven and twelve," added Mrs. Petley without waiting for permission to speak, "and I sat up for Master Rupert here. I took a walk outside, it being fine and dry, and like a fool, I went in to the abbey." "Why shouldn't you go there?" asked Rodgers. "Because Abbot Raoul always walks where he was burnt," replied Mrs. Petley, "and there he was sure enough. No moonlight could I see, but the stars gave a faint light, and he was near the square--the accursed square where they burnt the poor soul. I gave one screech as he swept past in his long robes and a cowl, and when I come to myself on the damp grass, he was gone. I hurried in and told Petley, who came out and searched, but bless you," went on the housekeeper with contempt, "he couldn't find a thing that had gone back to the other world--not he." "It was a dream, Mrs. Petley," said Rupert soothingly. "No, sir. Trouble is coming to the Ainsleighs, as always does when the Abbot walks. And this morning I went out and found this," and Mrs. Petley, fishing in her capacious pocket, produced a small stick which smelt like cinnamon. Round it was a roll of scarlet paper inscribed with queer characters. Rupert stretched out his hand to take it, but the detective anticipated him. "It's a joss-stick," said Rodgers. "I've seen them in the Whitechapel opium dens. Humph! Why should the ghost of an old monk use a joss-stick, like the Chinese?" Before anyone could reply, Mrs. Petley gave a cry, "I told you trouble was coming, Master Rupert, dear," she said with the tears streaming from her fat face, "and anything to do with that weary Chiner where your poor pa lost his life always do bring trouble. Oh, dear me," she put her silk apron to her eyes and walked slowly out of the room. "I must tell my John. He may be able to say what's coming, as he have a gift of prophecy, that he have." When Mrs. Petley closed the door after her, the three men looked at one another. "Do you believe in this ghost, Mr. Ainsleigh?" asked the detective, examining the joss-stick. Rupert did not give a direct answer. "I don't know what to believe, Mr. Rodgers. Our family traditions have always pointed to the walking of Abbot Raoul before trouble, and it might be so. I have never seen the ghost myself, though." "Your ghost is a Chinaman," said the detective, tapping the stick. "But what would a Chinaman be doing in the cloisters?" "Ah. That's what we've got to find out. There was a yacht in Marport Harbour last night, which came at midday, and departed in a hurry after midnight. Burgh says he believes Tung-yu went away in her, after committing the murder." "Even if he did," said Rupert, calmly, "that does not show how the joss-stick came here, or why a Chinaman should be masquerading as a monk, for that, I take it, is your meaning." "It is. I believe there were other Chinamen on board that boat," was the detective's reply. "Perhaps this man Hwei came to the Abbey." "He might have come," said Ainsleigh, carelessly. "Or Tung-yu," went on Rodgers. "No," said the Major who had kept silent all this time, but had observed everything, "it was not Tung-yu's day." Rodgers turned on him. "What do you mean by that?" The Major settled himself more comfortably in his chair. "I'll tell you my adventure at Canton first," he said, "and then you may understand. I can't get to the bottom of the matter myself, for why Lo-Keong should have a private god of good luck is more than I can tell." The others looked at him, amazed at this queer speech. "What is this private god?" asked the detective. "I don't know, save that it is called Kwang-ho." Rupert started. "That was the god mentioned in the advertisement." "Yes, so it was," replied the Major, quietly, "but just you wait and hear my story. It may lead to something being discovered." "One moment, Mr. Ainsleigh. Show me the advertisement." Rupert rose, and going to the writing-desk took therefrom the slip he had cut from the paper. Rodgers read it, quietly. "I see. Here is mentioned the doom of the god, Kwang-ho." "Lo-Keong's private god of good luck," said the Major. "Are there private as well as public gods in China?" Tidman looked perplexed. "I can't say. I know nothing. Wait and hear what I can tell," he settled himself again and began to speak rapidly. "I was in Canton seven years ago," said he, "I had made my money here, and didn't intend to travel again. But Miss Wharf persuaded me to go to China, to see if I could find out why Markham Ainsleigh had been killed." Rupert looked astonished. "Why? she hated my father." "She loved him first and hated him later," said Tidman, quietly, "a fine woman was poor Miss Wharf. I was in love with her--" "I never knew that Tidman." "I was though," said the Major, "and Miss Pewsey hated me for being in love with her. I spoke badly of Miss Wharf to you Ainsleigh because I was angered with her--" "You called her a mass of granite." "And so she is," said the Major angrily, "she promised to marry me if I went to China and learned how your father came by his death. I did go, but I came back without learning more, than that he was murdered, so Miss Wharf refused to keep her promise. I believe it was that Pewsey cat's fault." "Well--well--go on," said Rodgers looking at his watch, "all this business is very round-about. I want to get on with my work." "This may have to do with it," said the Major smartly. "Well, I was in Canton, and intended to go up to the Kan-su province to make enquiries. I met Forge in Canton. He had just come from Pekin, and showed me round. He laughed at the idea that Markham had died by violence, and said it was dysentery." "So he always said," murmured Rupert, who listened intently. "And told a lie," retorted Tidman, "however I believed him, but all the same I intended to make enquiries at the mine of the Hwei River in the Kan-su province. But I stopped in Canton with Forge for a time, as he said he would go up with me. In some way, the fact of my trying to learn the truth about Markham's death got about." "No doubt Forge told it to others," suggested Rupert. "I don't know. I never got to the bottom of the business. But one day a half-starved Chinaman stopped me in the street, and told me he could explain, if I came with him. I went to a miserable house in a low part of the city. The man closed the door, and then drew a fan from his breast--" "The fan in question?" asked Rodgers making a note. "Yes--the very article. He told me that this fan would reveal the truth, and offered it to me." "For money?" "No. He refused to take a penny. He seemed anxious to get rid of the fan, and kept looking round everywhere as though he thought someone might be listening. I asked him how the fan could tell about the death, but all he said, was, that it could." "But in what way?" asked Ainsleigh, puzzled. "I really don't know," said the Major, with an air of fatigue. "I am telling you all I know. I took the fan and cleared, and got home safely enough. Then I hid away the fan--where it doesn't matter; but I have travelled so much that I always keep a secret place for money and valuables. I placed the fan there, though I really didn't know what to make of the matter. After a few days I came to my rooms to find that everything had been ripped open and smashed and searched--" "And the fan was gone," said Rodgers. "Not it. They--whosoever they were who searched, could not find my hiding place. Well, a day or two later, as I was walking along the street at night, I was seized up and gagged, and carried to some low Chinese house. There a Chinaman examined me, and asked me what I had done with the fan--" "What sort of a man was he?" asked Rupert, "would you know him again?" The Major looked doubtful. "Chinamen are all so alike," he said, "but this chap had only one eye, and was a villainous looking beast. He declared that he knew the first Celestial had given me the fan, and that he wanted it. I refused to give it up. He took out a knife, and said he would slice me up. Oh," broke off the Major looking grey and old, "however shall I forget that terrible moment, Ainsleigh. Do you wonder that I shudder to relate this adventure, and that I refuse to speak of it. I was in that miserable place, in the midst of a horde of Chinamen, bound and helpless, with a knife at my throat. I never did care for death," said Tidman boldly, "but to be cut slowly into slices, was more than I could stand." "Why didn't you give up the fan then?" asked Rodgers. "Because I made up my mind that slicing or no slicing, I wasn't going to be bullied by a lot of heathen devils. The position was awful, but I'm an Englishman, and I resolved to hold off to the last moment, I dare say I would have given up the fan after all, as the one-eyed brute began to cut me up. I lost a big toe--" "Oh," said Rupert, while Rodgers shook his head, "did this man cut a toe off?" "Yes--my big toe. I was about to give in, when suddenly a small Chinese boy dressed in red--queerly enough, as the Chinese don't go in much for that colour--appeared and said something. The one-eyed Chinaman scowled, and put his knife away. Then he cleared out with the boy and his other friends and I was left alone. Then with the loss of blood, and the pain of my toe I fainted." "No wonder," said Ainsleigh, "I don't blame you. Well?" "Well, then I came to my senses in my own room. Forge was with me and said that he had traced me to the hovel and had rescued me with the aid of the Canton police. He declared that I would have to leave Canton at once, or this one-eyed Chinaman would be after me. I agreed, and with Forge I went that very day on board a homeward-bound steamer. I thanked Forge for having helped me, and he asked if I would give him the fan as a reward. I refused, as I wanted to know how it could tell about Markham's death. Forge said that if I kept possession of the fan, the one-eyed Chinaman would track me to England and kill me. But I held out, till I got to Marport. Then I grew weary of Forge worrying me, particularly as he promised to do what he could to learn the secret of the fan, and help me to marry Miss Wharf. So he took the fan, and then, as you know, Ainsleigh, he took it out to China again, where it fell into the hands of a pirate from whom Clarence Burgh received it." "But how did it get from Dr. Forge's hands into those of the pirate?" asked Rodgers curiously. "I don't know; you can ask Forge. He lives here." The detective took a note of the doctor's address. "That's all right," he said, "there's no doubt the poor lady was killed to procure this fan. Did you tell her of your adventure?" "No," said the Major with a shudder. "I merely said that I could not learn how Markham was killed and she refused to marry me. I did not care about speaking of the adventure. You know how the fan came into Miss Wharf's possession Mr. Rodgers?" "Yes," the detective nodded, "Mr. Burgh told me, but I'll have another talk with him. Humph. It seems to me that one of these Chinamen killed Miss Wharf, and that the tie was used to lay the blame on Mr. Ainsleigh here." "Well," said Ainsleigh drawing a breath, "I am glad to hear that you don't suspect me, but I can't think that Tung-yu stole the tie, even though he did see me place it in the coat." "I'll look after that cloak-room attendant," said Rodgers, making another note, "and he'll have to give an account of himself. But I don't see what this private god Kwang-ho has to do with the matter." "I can only tell you this," said Major Tidman, "I had a cold last night and stopped in my room. But I heard that Tung-yu was down the stairs, and, as I knew him in Canton, I went to have a look for him. He was a pleasant companion in Canton." "Did you tell him about the fan and your adventure?" "No, Ainsleigh, and I was annoyed that you should have let slip that I had such an adventure. I don't want to be mixed up in the matter. Tung-yu is nice enough, but if he has to do with the fan he is quite capable of turning nasty and making things unpleasant for me. But I mentioned about his advertisement, and how I came to know of it through you. He confessed that Lo-Keong had lost the fan and wished it back again, as it had to do with some family business. The finding of it was referred to the god Kwang-ho, and the priest of the god, said that two men were to search for the fan." "Hwei and Tung-yu." "Yes. They were to search on alternate days. If Hwei found it he was to kill the person from whom he got it. If it was Tung-yu's day he was to give the fortunate person five thousand pounds." "And whose day was it on the night of the crime?" "Hwei's," said the Major, "that was why Tung-yu could not buy the fan when Miss Wharf offered it to him." CHAPTER XII AT THE INQUEST When Mr. Orlando Rodgers of the C.I.D. rolled into the Superintendent's office the next day to relate what he had heard, he was not so glib as usual. After sleeping on the extraordinary tale he had heard from Major Tidman, and considering the fragments imparted by Clarence Burgh, and young Ainsleigh, he came to look on the matter as something to do with the Arabian Nights. The fan which the deceased lady had carried at the ball was certainly gone, and the whole of these marvellous matters connected with China, hung on the fan. But Miss Wharf may have been murdered for some other reason, and Rodgers was half inclined, when looking into the case in the cold searching morning light, to abandon the fan theory. But he delayed doing this until he had consulted with Superintendant Young, who looked after the Marport police. "What do you think of it?" he asked, when his tale was told. The Superintendent was a tall thin man with a cold eye and a distrustful manner. He believed only half he saw, and absolutely nothing he heard. Consequently when Rodgers ended, and his opinion was asked, he sniffed disdainfully, and put on his most official expression. "It's a fairy tale," said Young in his dry voice, which was like the creaking of a rusty wheel. "Well now, the woman was murdered." "But not for this fan, Mr. Rodgers." "Then what motive do you think--?" "I don't undertake to say, sir. Let us gather all the evidence we can and submit it to an intelligent jury at the inquest. It takes place to-day at the public house near the corner of the Cliff Road and not far from Ivy Lodge. When the jury has inspected the body, it will sit with the Coroner at the Bull's Head." "A Chinaman calling himself Tung-yu was at the ball you know," said Rodgers, unwilling to abandon the theory in spite of his doubts. "Where is he now?" "I can't say. Mr. Christopher Walker brought him down, and I went to see that young gentleman before he departed for business this morning. He told me that Tung-yu was a clerk in the same firm of tea merchants as he was employed with, and had not been at the office since he left to come to the ball. Mr. Walker last saw Tung-yu at the door of the hotel, looking out across the pier." "Well," said Young drily. "That yacht was there," went on Rodgers, "and showed a green light so it's just possible that Mr. Burgh may be right and that the Chinaman did steam away in her." "Well then, search for the yacht." "I intend to, and when I find her--" "Mr. Tung-yu will have an explanation. No, Mr. Rodgers," said the Superintendent rising, "I can't believe all this business is about a trifle such as this fan. Some more serious motive is at the bottom of this murder. Now Mr. Ainsleigh's tie--" "I can explain that," said the detective, and he did. Young listened disbelievingly. "So he says," was his comment. "But I don't think Mr. Ainsleigh is the sort of man to commit a brutal crime like this, and in so public a place." "Everyone's capable of committing a crime if there's anything to be gained," was the Superintendent's philosophy, "and Mr. Ainsleigh's very agreeable manner with which you appear to be struck, may be a mask to hide an evil nature." "Oh rubbish; begging your pardon Mr. Young. Look at this joss-stick," and Rodgers held it out, "that was found in the ruins of Royabay Abbey, so you see some Chinaman must be mixed up in the job. I am beginning to believe that the tale may be true after all." "It's too wild--too far-fetched. I can't believe it." "Because you haven't imagination." "We don't want imagination in this matter, Mr. Rodgers. Facts sir." Rodgers got up and put on his hat. "Well, we'll not be able to agree, I can see that," said he, "and as the case is in my hands, I am going away to look after evidence." "Why not arrest Mr. Ainsleigh?" "Because the evidence against him is not sufficiently strong," the detective sat down again. "See here Mr. Superintendent, if I so chose I could manufacture a case against three of these people at least, and give it to them pretty strong too. Supposing, for the sake of theorising mind, we say Mr. Ainsleigh killed the woman--" "Which I am inclined to think he did, on the tie's evidence." "Very good, I can show you how strong you can make the case against him, Mr. Young. This young man was at the ball, he hated the deceased and she hated him on account of the difficulty of the marriage with Miss Rayner. Ainsleigh wants money badly, and might have killed the old woman to get the fan and sell it for five thousand pounds. Also by marrying Miss Rayner who will inherit Miss Wharf's money, he gets rid of a mortgage that's troubling him. What was easier for him, than to pretend to put the silk scarf in his coat pocket, so as to blind those who saw him do it, and then to lure Miss Wharf out on to those steps and scrag her. Then he could pass the fan to Tung-yu who wanted it, and arrange about the money being paid. After that and when Tung-yu had gone off to the yacht, Mr. Ainsleigh could slip back into the ball-room and assist in finding the body. And remember, he says, he was strolling on the beach smoking, between the hours of eleven and twelve, and won't prove an alibi, though between ourselves I think he can through Major Tidman." "Well," said Young dryly, "doesn't this go to prove his guilt." "I can prove Tung-yu's in the same way," said Rodger's coolly, "he was in the cloak-room when Mr. Ainsleigh placed the scarf in the coat. He could easily have stolen it, as these Chinamen are clever thieves, and have then lured Miss Wharf on to the steps under the pretence of treating about the fan. Suddenly he slips the scarf round her throat before she can cry out, goes down the steps and on to the beach where a boat is waiting for him, and by now, may be on his way to his employer the Mandarin Lo-Keong." "It sounds feasible I admit, but--" "One moment," went on Rodgers eagerly, "quite as strong a case can be made out against Major Tidman. He did not come to the ball, but lurked in his room all the evening. Yet he came down to see Tung-yu--what about?--to sell the fan of course--" "You can't prove that." "Am I proving anything? I am simply showing you what strong cases can be built up out of nothing. Well then, Tidman sees the scarf put in the coat by a young man, whom he knows is at enmity with the deceased, and takes it out again. He gets Miss Wharf to come on to the terrace--any pretext will do, as he is her lover and her old friend. There, he strangles her on the steps and taking the fan, passes it along to the Chinaman who makes for the yacht. So you see if I chose I can build up a case against each of these three gentlemen, and each equally strong. Why if I had a mind to entangle young Mr. Burgh in the affair I could do so." "But Tung-yu, Mr. Burgh and Major Tidman might prove alibi's." "So they might, and Mr. Ainsleigh might do so also." "He has not done so yet and if he was in danger, he would." "Quite so," said Rodgers quickly, and seeing the slip, "and his very reluctance to prove an alibi--for surely someone besides Tidman must have seen him on the beach--shows me he is innocent. However this isn't business Mr. Young, so I'll go and see what evidence I can gather." So to Dr. Forge went the detective, feeling very bewildered over the case. And small blame to him, for the matter was surely most perplexing. It is only in novels that the heaven-born detective (in the confidence of the author) displays wonderful cleverness in finding clues where none exist. But a flesh and blood worker like Rodgers had to puzzle out the matter in real life as best he could. He was not at all sanguine that he would run down the assassin of Miss Wharf. On the face of it, Rupert Ainsleigh appeared to be guilty, and Rodgers doubted his guilt for this very reason. "I believe one of these Chinaman did it," said Rodgers as he rang Forge's bell. Dr. Forge was within, and consented at once to see the detective. When the two were in the Chinese room, Rodgers unfolded himself, and asked Forge, who knew the Chinese character, what he thought. "My dear sir, the case is plain," said Forge calmly, "Tung-yu gave Hwei the office, and lured Miss Wharf on to the steps where Hwei strangled her with the scarf stolen by Tung-yu so as to throw suspicion on Mr. Ainsleigh." "Humph. It looks like it," said Rodgers musingly. "So you believe this wild story of Major Tidman's." "I _know_ it is true," said Forge quietly. "I helped him to get free as he related. I was a partner with Mr. Markham Ainsleigh in the mine on the Hwei River. I went to Pekin about a concession, and while I was away, Mr. Ainsleigh died of dysentry. As to the fan,--I can't exactly say. I never knew of this private god business, but it's the kind of thing Lo-Keong might invent. He is a very superstitious man, and like Napoleon, he believes in his star. He was concerned in the Boxer rebellion, but afterwards he joined the Court party of the Dowager Empress who is now all powerful. I never saw the fan in his hand, but it might have to do with a secret." "What kind of a secret?" "I can't say unless it has to do with Lo-Keong's political fortunes. He has many enemies, who envy his rapid rise. These enemies probably stole the fan to ruin him. How this coolie, who gave it to Major Tidman, got hold of it I don't know. But he was glad to get rid of it, which makes me think the story of the alternate days and the blessing of the god Kwang-ho might be true. The Chinese do not think as we do Mr. Rodgers, and have their own way of settling these matters. The attack on Tidman, when he had the fan in Canton, shows clearer than ever, that it was wanted by Lo-Keong's enemies. He gave it to me--" "Why did you want it?" "For two reasons," said Forge quietly, "in the first place from what happened to Tidman I saw that while he held the fan he was in danger--" "But then you were in the same danger," objected the detective. "I was, and I expected trouble. But I was better able to deal with the matter than Tidman as I understand the Chinese character. I got the fan in London and locked it up in yonder cabinet. I thought it was there all the time, and when I found it gone, I was quite annoyed, as Major Tidman will tell you. Then I recollected that I had taken it back to China to give to Lo-Keong. That is my second reason Mr. Rodgers. I knew I could get a concession I wanted through Lo-Keong's influence, and I did. So the fan went back to him." "And you forgot that you had given it." "I did. It seems strange to you, but as I told Tidman and Miss Pewsey, my memory is impaired by opium smoking. However, that is the story of the fan, and Burgh got it from the hand of the dead pirate. How the pirate came possessed of it I can't say. Apparently Lo-Keong lost it again." "He couldn't have valued it much, if he lost it so often." "He valued it at five thousand pounds and more," said the Doctor dryly, "how it was lost I can't say. I may find out when I go to China again, in a few months. Lo-Keong is in Pekin, and, as we are friends, he will tell me, and show me the fan again." "Ah. Then you believe----" "I believe it is on its way to Lo-Keong, and that Tung-yu and Hwei came together down here to get it. When only one was on the spot this god business of alternate days made the matter difficult. With both together, the owner of the fan was bound to be killed or made rich. Unfortunately for Miss Wharf the day or night was Hwei's and he carried out the order of the god Kwang-ho by strangling her." "Well," said Rodgers rising, "all I can say is that I'm glad I do not live in China. How much of this is to be made public." "My advice to you is to make nothing public, or as little as you can," said Dr. Forge dryly, "you see how persistent these Chinamen are. You make trouble and you may be killed also. Your being in England won't save you any more than it saved Miss Wharf, poor soul." "I shall do my duty in spite of all," said Rodgers coolly, "I am not going to be frightened by a couple of Chinese brutes." "Very clever brutes," said Forge softly, but Rodgers took no notice and marched away with his head in the air. Come what may, he was determined to punish the assassin of Miss Wharf and if it was Hwei, the man would have to be caught. "I'll go to Pekin myself for him," said Rodgers angrily, "I'm not going to be bested by these barbarians." Little that was new came to his hand before the inquest, which was a comparatively tame affair. The jury inspected the body and then adjourned to the Bull's Head to hear the case. Rodgers set forth what evidence he had gained, but touched as lightly as possible on the Chinese business. He called Dr. Forge who deposed to having examined the body and asserted that Miss Wharf had been killed between eleven and twelve. She must have been strangled almost instantaneously as, had she cried out, she would have been overheard by those on the terrace. This evidence caused but little sensation. When Rupert was called however, all were excited. He deposed as to the scarf which he had received from Olivia, and said what he had done with it. He declared that he had been walking on the beach smoking, and only returned to the ball-room shortly before midnight when the body was discovered. He stated that he had spoken to Major Tidman on the beach. And thus proved an alibi clearly enough. The rest of the evidence was not very important. Chris Walker told how he had brought Tung-yu to the ball and handed in a slip of advertisement, and then Rupert was recalled to tell what he knew. Tidman related his interview with Tung-yu, and described how both had seen Rupert place the tie in the overcoat pocket. Then it appeared that the whole of the case turned on the fact that the scarf had been removed from the pocket. No one knew. Miss Pewsey said that Rupert took it: but her evidence was so obviously prejudiced that the jury would not believe all she said. Lotty Dean who was at the ball, declared that she saw Miss Wharf cross the terrace about eleven and go towards the floral arch on the other side of which were the steps. She was quite alone, and seemed tranquil, "she was fanning herself at the moment," said the witness. "Ah!" said the Coroner, "then she had the fan at that time." "It was gone when we found the body," put in Miss Pewsey, and was rebuked for speaking out of order. The interest of the case turned on the evidence of Dalham, the attendant in the cloak-room. He was a dissipated-looking man, and gave his evidence very unwillingly. Owing to his having left the cloak-room at Burgh's request, Rupert, as he threatened to do, had reported him to the manager and Mr. Dalham had been dismissed. This loss of his situation did not make him any the sweeter towards Ainsleigh, but all the same, he could not state on his oath, that the young man had returned to take the tie again from the pocket. Nor had the Chinaman, or Major Tidman returned. Dalham knew the Major well, and as he phrased it, "would have spotted him at once," while the gay dress of Tung-yu would have been equally conspicuous had he attempted to meddle with a coat which did not belong to him. "You did not leave the room again?" asked the Coroner. "I only left it once," said Dalham. "Because Mr. Burgh and Mr. Ainsleigh wanted to fight." "We've heard about that, and it has nothing to do with the case," said the coroner. "But you were in the room the rest of the evening?" "I've said so a dozen times sir," growled the badgered man. "Lots of people came for their things and some late arrivals left theirs but I was at my post all the time, except that once, when I left Mr. Burgh with Mr. Ainsleigh. I never saw Major Tidman nor Mr. Ainsleigh nor the Chinaman touch the cloak." The coroner called Burgh and asked him if he was alone in the room at any time. Clarence frankly admitted that he was. "But as I never saw Ainsleigh place the tie in the coat and never knew that he possessed such a tie, I don't see how you can accuse me." Much more evidence was given, but it all led to no result. Finally the jury, having heard much more of the Chinese story than Rodgers approved of, brought in a verdict against Tung-yu. Hwei, they could say nothing about, as he had not been present. But Tung-yu wanted the fan and the fan had disappeared, while Tung-yu was also absent. "Wilful murder against Tung-yu," was the verdict, and on hearing the evidence, and on reading all that had been said in the papers, the general public agreed with the verdict. Under the circumstances no other could have been given. Only one person dissented. "It was that Ainsleigh who killed dearest Sophia," said Miss Pewsey. CHAPTER XIII THE WILL The funeral of Miss Wharf was attended by many people. Of course all her friends came with the usual wreaths of flowers, but owing to the tragic circumstances of her death, many strangers were present. She was buried in the family vault with much ceremony, and then the mourners departed talking of the crime. It was the general opinion that Tung-yu,--who had not yet been heard of,--was responsible for the death, and that he had sailed away in the Stormy Petrel. Rodgers having returned to Town after the inquest was making inquiries about the yacht. When he discovered her, he hoped to learn particulars as to the flight of Tung-yu. These many days Rupert had not seen Olivia, although he had called at Ivy Lodge. But Miss Pewsey, who took charge of everything in her usual meddlesome way, would not allow him to be admitted. Olivia did not even know of his visit. She remained in her room, and mourned the death of her aunt. Miss Wharf had certainly been a good friend to her, but she could not be said to have been a kindly aunt. All the same Olivia's conscience pricked her, for having secretly married Rupert. As she now thought, she should have told her aunt. But the marriage was decided upon in a hurry, and when the girl had been more than usually piqued by the insulting speeches of Miss Wharf. However, the old woman was dead, and Olivia, little as she loved her, wept for her tragic end. Miss Rayner, during her mourning, read the evidence given at the inquest, and wondered why she had not been called as a witness, if only to prove that she had given the scarf to Rupert. She thought it extraordinary that Tung-yu should have used the tie to strangle Miss Wharf, and could not think how it came into his possession. After some thought she concluded, that he had taken the scarf from Rupert's pocket, so as to implicate him in the crime, and had bribed Dalham the attendant, who certainly was not above being bribed, to say nothing about the matter. If this were the case, Dalham would probably blackmail Tung-yu for the rest of his life, as he was just the kind of rascal to make money in shady ways. Then it occurred to Olivia that as Tung-yu had sailed for China, presumably in the yacht, Dalham would not be able to make a milch cow of him. However, whether Tung-yu was guilty or not, she cared little. Rupert was safe, in spite of the evidence of the scarf, and so long as he escaped being arrested, the girl felt perfectly happy. After the funeral Olivia came downstairs again, and found Miss Pewsey looking after things as usual. The little old maid was most polite, and it seemed as though she was now anxious to make much of Olivia, thinking she would inherit the money. Miss Pewsey had not a shilling to bless herself with, and for years had lived on the bounty of Miss Wharf. Now that Olivia was to be the mistress of Ivy Lodge, Miss Pewsey appeared desirous of making herself pleasant, so that she might remain. Olivia saw through her newly born politeness, and, although she disliked the woman, was not averse to her remaining for a time at least. "I should be glad for you to remain altogether," explained Olivia when matters came to be discussed, "but of course now that my aunt is gone I may marry Mr. Ainsleigh." "Oh he'll marry you quick enough for your money," snapped Miss Pewsey, "not but what he's a handsome young fellow, but--" "Don't run down Rupert," interrupted Olivia flushing, "I love him. You have never been just to him." Miss Pewsey coughed. "I don't think he is a very good young man." "I hate good young men," said Olivia. "Mr. Chris Walker is one of those who never cost his mother a single pang. Why my aunt should wish me to marry such a milksop, I can't understand." "Well then, why not marry Clarence?" asked the old maid, "he is not a milksop and has cost his mother--poor soul many a pang. And he loves you dearly, Olivia. I should think you would be able to live very nicely on five hundred a year and with this house rent free." "If I come into possession of the property that is." "Oh, I am sure you will," said Miss Pewsey effusively. "To whom should dear Sophia leave the money, if not to you, her nearest relative." "She might have left it to you, for she loved you, while she only tolerated me." Miss Pewsey threw up her mittened hands with a cry of dismay. "Oh my dear there's no chance of my being so lucky. Sophia was very close about money matters--" "Surely not with you, Miss Pewsey. She always consulted you in everything. You had great influence over her." "If so, I made no use of it for my own benefit," said Miss Pewsey with great dignity. "Sophia never consulted me about her wills. I know she made several, and dictated the last just a week before her death. While she was confined to her room with that cold you know, Olivia. I suppose," Miss Pewsey tittered, "I suppose she wanted to be amused." "I shouldn't think making one's will was amusing," said Olivia dryly, "however, the lawyer will be here this afternoon to read the will, and we shall know if I inherit." "I am sure you will get the money. And dear, you won't forget your poor Lavinia," purred Miss Pewsey. "Let me remain here with you, until you marry Mr. Ainsleigh, or until I marry Theophilus." "Are you really going to marry Dr. Forge?" asked Miss Rayner, looking with secret amazement at the withered face and shrunken form of Miss Pewsey and wondering what the doctor could see in her to make her his wife. "I really am," said Miss Pewsey emphatically and with a shrewd look in her eyes. "And I see that you think it is ridiculous at my age to marry. Also, I am not handsome I know. All the same, Theophilus is willing to make me Mrs. Forge, and I dare say I'll grace the position well enough. It isn't love," added Miss Pewsey, "at our age dear that would be too absurd. We are simply entering into a partnership. He has money and I have brains." "Dr. Forge has brains also." "Not so much brain power as I have. I am not lovely I know dear, but I am clever," and Miss Pewsey drew herself up proudly. "Why poor dear Sophia would never have died worth so much money but for me. Ah, if she had only given me that fan when I asked her, she would not have been killed and I should have got five thousand pounds and more from Tung-yu for her. But she would keep the fan," Miss Pewsey squeezed out a tear, "and so met with her doom. That nasty Chinaman." Miss Pewsey shook a small fist. "I wish he could hang." Olivia looked at her. "I heard that you disagreed with the verdict Miss Pewsey." "Meaning that I said Mr. Ainsleigh was guilty," snapped the old maid, "well I did, dear, but I have changed my mind." Miss Rayner did not believe this, for Miss Pewsey looked very malignant as she spoke. Her change of opinion was made, merely to adapt herself to circumstances and to retain a home until such time as her marriage with Forge, would enable her to dispense with Miss Rayner's help. However, Olivia did not argue the point. She wished to keep on good terms with the old maid, until Rupert declared the secret marriage. Then she could go to the Abbey, and leave Miss Pewsey behind with all other disagreeable things. With Pastor, the solicitor of the deceased lady, came Clarence Burgh and Dr. Forge. Lady Jabe, more manly than ever, appeared with Chris Walker, who had taken a holiday on purpose to hear the will read, and Lady Jabe explained this to Miss Pewsey in a whisper. "I know that poor Sophia wished Chris to marry Olivia," she said, "so I thought the will might state that the money would be left to her on such a condition. I therefore made Chris ask for a holiday, so that he might hear of his good fortune." "Let us hope it will come," aid Miss Pewsey, dryly, "but fortune or no fortune, Olivia will stick to young Ainsleigh." "He is a nice young man, but poor." "Chris is poor also. Yet you want him to marry Olivia." "I think Chris has a better character than young Ainsleigh, who looks as though he has a will of his own. Now Chris has none. I have broken it, and Olivia as Mrs. Walker, can order him about like a slave. I hope Sophia has made the will as I wished." "You'll hear in a minute. For my part," added Miss Pewsey in her spiteful way, "I hope Sophia has left the money to Olivia, on condition that she marries Clarence, and keeps him at home." "And keeps him on the income," corrected Lady Jabe, who did not at all approve of this speech. "No man should live on his wife." "You propose that Chris should do so." "Indeed no. He earns quite a good salary at the office, and I could live with the young couple to prevent waste." "I am quite sure you would," said Miss Pewsey, "if you get the money." Lady Jabe would have made a sharp reply, as Miss Wharf being dead, she was under no obligation to curry favour with Miss Pewsey. But at that moment she saw Chris talking to Olivia, and as the girl seemed deeply interested, she pointed out the two with her cane. "I see Chris is losing no time," she murmured, "such a lover as he is." But had she heard Chris talking, she would not have been so happy. The young man was simply replying to a question put by Olivia, as to the whereabouts of Tung-yu. "I really don't know where he is, Miss Rayner," said Chris, earnestly. "There was a police-officer at our place the other day inquiring. But Tung-yu has not been near Kum-gum Li's since I took him to the ball. I believe he asked me to get him an invitation so that he might kill your aunt." "Does Kum-gum Li know anything about him," asked Olivia. "No. He came with a letter of introduction from a mandarin----" "Lo-Keong?" "No. That is not the name--let me see--the Mandarin, Hop Sing----" "Ah," said Forge, who was listening, "Lo-Keong's rival." "I never knew that. But Kum-gum Li gave Tung-yu a place as extra clerk when he received the letter. He knows nothing more than what the letter explained." "And what did it explain?" asked Forge with sudden interest. "I can't tell you," replied Chris coldly, "I am not in the confidence of my employer, and if I were," he added fixing an indignant eye on the sardonic face of the doctor, "I should say nothing." "Quite right," replied Forge not at all disconcerted, "you keep out of these Chinese affairs. There's danger in them." "Connected with the fan?" demanded Olivia. "Yes," said Forge slowly, "connected with the fan." Olivia being a woman and curious, would have asked further questions, to which Dr. Forge might have hesitated to reply, but that Miss Pewsey called her dear Theophilus to her side. The will was about to be read and Miss Pewsey--so she said--wanted support. Forge crossed to the withered little shrimp he had chosen, heaven knows why, for his wife and sat down. The lawyer opened an envelope and took out a rustling parchment. Just as he cleared his throat, the door opened and the maid announced "Mr. Ainsleigh." Miss Pewsey glared, and no one appeared glad to see him, Lady Jabe least of all, as she knew he was a powerful rival to Chris. But Rupert bowed to the company in silence, took no notice of their cold looks, and walked over to where Olivia sat, a little apart. He seated himself beside her. The girl smiled a little faintly, and then gazed straight before her. No one made any remark, as Pastor was beginning to read the will. Miss Wharf, it appeared, died worth one thousand a year and the house and furniture and land of Ivy Lodge. Five hundred a year went to a distant relative, as Miss Wharf was unable to leave it to anyone else, by reason of only having a life interest in this amount. Then a few personal bequests were left to Lady Jabe, to Chris Walker, and to some other friends. Ivy Lodge, and the furniture, and the land it was built on, and the remaining five hundred a year was left to--Lavinia Pewsey. When the name was mentioned the little old maid quivered, and Olivia, pale and quiet, rose to her feet. In a moment Miss Pewsey, prepared for battle, was on her feet also, and the two women looked at one another. "You knew of this will," said Olivia quietly. "No," replied Miss Pewsey. "You did. And all your paying court to me was a blind, so that I might not suspect Aunt Sophia had left the money to you." "Dearest Sophia left the money to whom she chose," said Miss Pewsey, in a sharp, shrill voice, "do you mean to say, that I exercised any undue influence over her?" "I say nothing," was Olivia's reply: "but hard on me as my aunt was, I do not think she would have left me penniless, while the money which belonged to my family goes to a perfect stranger." "A stranger," cried Miss Pewsey tossing her head, "am I a stranger, indeed? I was hand and glove with dear Sophia when we were at school together. I gave up my life to her----" "And you have got your reward," said Olivia bitterly. "As you say," retorted Miss Pewsey, tossing her head again, "but the will is in order, and I had nothing to do with the making of it. I appeal to Mr. Pastor." "Why, certainly," said the lawyer, looking on Olivia with something like pity. "Miss Wharf gave me instructions to make a new will, during the week before she met with her untimely end. Miss Pewsey was not in the room----" "But no doubt she induced my aunt to cut me out of the will." "No," cried Miss Pewsey breathing very hard, and looking more drab than ever. "I won't stand this. Your aunt had good cause to take the money from you--oh you deceiving girl." At this Rupert suddenly rose and took Olivia's hand. He half guessed what was coming, and looked at the spiteful face of the heiress. Olivia stared. She could not understand. Miss Pewsey was about to speak, when Mr. Pastor intervened. "May I be permitted to remark that I have not finished reading the will of the deceased lady," said he sweetly. "There's no more money to be disposed of," said Olivia bitterly, "my enemy has got it all." Pastor made a gesture of silence to prevent Miss Pewsey bursting out into a volume of words. "There is no more money to be disposed of as you say, Miss Rayner, but Miss Wharf sets forth in the will why she disinherited you." "Ah," cried Olivia a light breaking in upon her, and reading the truth in Miss Pewsey's look of triumph, "so my aunt knew----" "She knew that you had secretly married the gentleman beside you." Everyone was on his or her feet by this time, and every look was directed towards Olivia. "Is this true?" asked Lady Jabe. "Yes," cried Miss Pewsey, before either Rupert or Olivia could speak, "of course it is true. Let them deny it if they can. I heard Olivia say herself, that she had been married at a registrar's." Miss Rayner, or rather Mrs. Ainsleigh turned on the little woman, "I should like to know when I said that to you Miss Pewsey?" "You never said it to me--oh dear no," said Miss Pewsey shrilly, "you were not straightforward enough. But I heard--oh yes I heard." "Miss Wharf," said the lawyer folding up the will, "told me that she learned of this from Miss Pewsey, just before she called me in, to make a new will. The five hundred a year was left to you Miss----" "Mrs. Ainsleigh," said Rupert quickly. "Very good. To you Mrs. Ainsleigh, by a former will. But on discovering the secret marriage, my client made a new will--this," he shook it, "and Miss Pewsey benefits." "Miss Pewsey has every right to benefit," said Mrs. Ainsleigh in a clear cold voice, "she has been well paid, for being a spy." "Spy," shrilled Miss Pewsey glaring, "yes I was a spy in the interests of dearest Sophia. I followed you several times, when you went to meet Mr. Ainsleigh near the flag-staff, and on the last occasion----" "Ah," said Olivia tranquilly, "so I thought. I heard something moving. It was you, concealed. Rupert said it was a rat--perhaps he was right. Well Miss Pewsey you have gained your ends and now----" "Now you leave my house," said the old maid, "yes, my house." Olivia made no reply but placed her hand within her husband's arm. Rupert conducted her towards the door. "Mrs. Ainsleigh's effects will be sent for," said he looking at Miss Pewsey, "we will not trouble you further." "But the law will trouble _you_," cried Miss Pewsey, "you----" Rupert turned and looked at her. The venomous words died on her lips. She dropped into her chair, while Ainsleigh and the disinherited Olivia left Ivy Lodge to the woman, who had schemed for it in so base a way. CHAPTER XIV A MYSTERIOUS LETTER If Miss Wharf's tragic death made a great sensation in Marport, the announcement that Miss Rayner was married secretly to Ainsleigh of Royabay made a still greater one. Some people thought Olivia had behaved badly to her aunt, and these were confirmed in their belief, by the story told by Miss Pewsey. But others considered the marriage to be quite romantic, and, knowing how Miss Wharf had tried to make her niece marry Clarence, were pleased that the girl had thus circumvented the schemes of the buccaneer. But, whether the critics were hostile or favourable, they were all equally anxious to call at Royabay and see its new mistress. Mrs. Ainsleigh received them quietly, and with a dignity which compelled all to refrain from making remarks, unpleasant or otherwise. She settled down rapidly to her new position, and after a time, everyone was quite on her side. Certainly, a few ill-disposed people agreed with Miss Pewsey, who could not say anything sufficiently bad about Mrs. Ainsleigh: but on the whole, people were anxious to welcome the new mistress of the great place of Marport. Rupert and Olivia appeared to be very happy, and after all--as someone said, "the marriage was their own business." A month after the installation of Olivia at Royabay, her husband received a visitor in the person of Dr. Forge. That melancholy man made his appearance one afternoon, when the young couple were in the garden, and therefore, they could not refuse to see him. Olivia, had she been able, would certainly have declined the visit, as she was aware that Forge intended to marry Miss Pewsey next month. As it was, she had to be polite and she was coldly so. Rupert also, was not very genial. From what John Petley had said, and from what Tung-yu had hinted, he began to think that Forge was not the friend he pretended to be, and consequently the young man was on his guard. Dr. Forge saw this, and seized the opportunity when Olivia went within,--which she did as soon as politeness permitted,--to speak to his quondam ward. "We don't appear to be friends," said the doctor. "I don't see how you can expect it," replied Rupert coldly, "you marry Miss Pewsey next month, and she has been, and is, Olivia's bitter enemy." "I am aware that my future wife is prejudiced," said he deliberately, "but I assure you Rupert, she did not scheme for that money." Ainsleigh scoffed. "Why she spied on Olivia and told Miss Wharf, what we would rather had been kept silent." "I don't think you acted quite fairly towards Miss Wharf." "That is my business. I don't intend to defend myself," was the young man's reply, "did you come to discuss this matter?" "No. I came to ask how this matter would effect your future." "In what way?" "In the way you stand with your creditors." Rupert did not reply immediately. The two were walking on the lawn, but Rupert entered the door of the Abbey and strolled round the ruins with Forge by his side. He mistrusted the man intensely. "I should like to know if you are my friend?" he asked, giving utterance to this mistrust. "Surely I am," was the quiet reply, "why should you think me to be otherwise. Because I marry Miss Pewsey?" "No. You can marry whom you choose. I have nothing to do with that, Dr. Forge. But when you were my guardian, why did you not tell me that the property was so encumbered?" "I wanted your boyhood to be unclouded. And also," he added, seeing Rupert make a gesture of contempt, "I thought you might get money from China." Rupert started. "What do you mean by that?" "Well," said Forge deliberately and looking on the ground, "you know that your father and I invested in a gold mine on the Hwei River? Well we worked it for a long time until your father died of dysentery--" "Are you sure he died of dysentery?" asked Ainsleigh sharply. "So far as I know he did," was Forge's patient reply, "as I told you before, I was in Pekin when he died. But if you are in doubt you should go to China and ask Lo-Keong." "What has he to do with it?" "This much," said Forge quietly, "and I am telling you, what I have kept hitherto from every living creature. Your father and I made money out of the mine--a great sum. I made the most--about ten thousand pounds, but your father made at least eight thousand." "And where is that money?" asked Rupert anxiously. "Lo-Keong has it. Yes! I went to Pekin to get a concession with regard to buying or leasing more land. I left your father with Lo-Keong. He was at that time a kind of foreman. But also, he was in the confidence of the rebellious Boxer leaders. These threatened to undermine the power of the Dowager Empress, who was not then, so strong as she is now. As a matter of fact, Lo-Keong himself was a leader of the Boxers. He came to us in disguise, and worked up until he became our foreman; but he did this, because he heard that the mine was paying, and wanted money--" "Your money?" asked Ainsleigh deeply interested. "Yes, and the money belonging to your father--in all, eighteen thousand pounds. When I was at Pekin, your father, who did not understand the Chinese so well as I did, managed to make trouble--" "In what way?" "He interfered with the religion of the coolies in some way--a most disastrous thing to do. Lo-Keong took advantage of the riot and robbed your father of the eighteen thousand pounds." "And killed my father." "Ah," said Forge quietly, "I really can't say that. It was reported to me at Pekin that Markham had died of dysentery. He was buried near the mine. I was advised not to go back, as the Chinese were enraged against the foreign devils. Lo-Keong took the money and returned to his Boxers, where, with the money, he attained to even greater power, than he formerly had possessed. Afterwards he deserted his party and came on the side of the Empress Dowager. She is a clever woman and was glad to get him, so he speedily rose high at court. Now, he is very powerful." "And still holds my father's money." "Precisely, and mine also. I have been to China, again and again, to try and make Lo-Keong give up this money, and then, I intended to pay you eight thousand pounds. But hitherto I have failed. I am about to make a last attempt, as I sail for Canton after Christmas. I had intended to go earlier, but I must marry Miss Pewsey and leave her in charge of my house, as Mrs. Forge, before I go. So now you know Rupert why I went so frequently to China." "And what has the fan to do with all this?" "Nothing so far as I know. It is Lo-Keong's property and was a bequest which he values. I understand that there is some secret belonging to it, connected with political affairs, and which make his enemies anxious to get hold of it." "Didn't you know the secret, when you possessed the fan?" "No," said Forge viciously, "I wish I had known it. If it could have damaged Lo-Keong I certainly should have made every use of it. He keeps me out of ten thousand pounds, and it's through his influence with the Empress Dowager that I am prevented from working the mine further. It is a rich mine, and if I worked it, I could make a fortune. But Lo-Keong stopped that. I was a fool, not to use the fan and make Lo-Keong give me the mine for it." "But you _did_ give him the fan." Forge looked confused for a moment. "Yes, I did," said he after a pause, "that is, it was taken from me. I got it from Tidman in the way you know, and always expected trouble. But I expect Hwei and Tung-yu did not find out at the time, that it had come to this country, so I was left alone. Had they discovered, that I was the possessor I should have been killed--" "Or you might have got a large sum of money." "Quite so. It would have all depended if I gave the fan to Hwei or to Tung-yu. I should have preferred the latter, but of course I never knew the different days appointed by the god." "Then that business is really true." "I believe it is. But I never knew much about it, till Tung-yu told me. Then it was too late, Miss Wharf had the fan, and it was Hwei's day. He took advantage of the chance." "Do you think he was here?" "Yes. Certainly. He killed Miss Wharf." "But the verdict said that Tung-yu--" "Pooh--pooh," cried Forge snapping his long fingers. "Tung-yu would not have dared to disobey the order of Kwang-ho the god. Hwei is the culprit, but I said as little as I could about that, I don't want to be entangled in the matter again. But one of the Chinamen has the fan, and by this time it is nearly at Pekin. There doesn't seem to be much chance of our getting that money Rupert." "You did give the fan to Lo-Keong," reiterated Ainsleigh. "Well it was taken from me. I went to his palace and told him I would give him the fan in exchange for the eighteen thousand pounds. I then intended to come back and give you eight, to clear off your mortgages and resolved to live on the remaining ten which are rightfully my own. But Lo-Keong had me seized, and the fan was taken from me. He then forbade me setting foot in China again. But I am going, for all that," said Forge threateningly, "I shall go after Christmas. I am bound to get my money and yours." "You kept that fan for a long time?" "For two years only, and then, when I thought everything had blown over, I took it to Lo-Keong with what result you know. Now then, I have been plain with you Rupert. Surely you can see that I am your friend." "Tung-yu said you were not, Doctor." "Naturally," replied Forge, "he wanted to make bad blood between us, so that I should not tell you this story. How does he know--Tung-yu I mean--but what you might not go to China and complain about Lo-Keong keeping this money." "I prefer to stop here with my wife," said Ainsleigh. "But _you_ can complain." "And be hanged, or sliced, or shot, or fried. No thank you. Remember what kind of treatment Tidman met with at the hands of Hwei." "What. Was he the one-eyed Chinaman?" "Yes. He's the gentleman, and I hope he won't come your way. He is a beast. But by this time, he and Tung-yu are on their way back to their own land. And now Rupert, I'll say good-bye. As I am poor myself, lacking this ten thousand pounds, rightfully mine, which Lo-Keong detains, I can't help you. But I'll tell you what I'll do. I'll get Miss Pewsey to extend that mortgage." "No, thank you all the same," said Ainsleigh, throwing back his head. "I don't want to be indebted to your wife." "She is not my wife _yet_," said Forge significantly. "But you intend to marry her." "Yes--yes--quite so." Forge looked queerly at Rupert, as though about to say something. Then he changed his mind and walked away rapidly, without saying good-bye. Rupert returned to the house and told his wife all that had taken place. She was still doubtful of Forge's good intentions. "A decent man would not marry that wicked little woman." "Well," said Rupert doubtfully, "from the way he spoke and looked, I think Miss Pewsey marries him and not Forge, Miss Pewsey." Mrs. Ainsleigh looked up quickly. "Has she got any hold over him?" "I don't understand dear?" "The same as she had over my aunt. Rupert, that little woman looks frail, but she is strong, and has a will like iron. In spite of her looks, Aunt Sophia was wax in Miss Pewsey's hands. She exercised a kind of hypnotic power over Aunt Sophia, and that was how the will came to be made in her favour." "In that case, why not try and upset the will." "On a pretext of undue influence. It could be done certainly, but I have no facts to go upon. But it seems to me, from what you say, that Miss Pewsey has hypnotised Forge." "He's not the kind of man to be hypnotised." "Yes, he is. He smokes opium. A man who would give way to that vice, is not a strong man. But let her be and let him be also, Rupert. I don't believe about this money in China. It is no use our building on that. If the place has to be sold at the end of the year, we will take what we have left and go to Canada. So long as I have my boy I don't much care," and she wreathed her arms round his neck. "Dear Olivia, I wish I wasn't the hard-up wretch I am." "I would not have you, any other than you are. If money comes to us, it will come honestly, not through the hands of Dr. Forge or his future wife. Neither one is honest." Rupert would have argued this point, as he thought his wife was a trifle hard. But Olivia stuck to her guns, and gradually all reference to Forge and his story was dropped by tacit consent. The young couple had quite enough to do, in talking of their future, which was doubtful, to say the least of it. However Rupert had arranged with the lawyers to hold over all claims for another year. It only remained to get Miss Pewsey, who now held the fatal mortgage, to extend the time. But Olivia would not allow her husband to ask a favour of the bitter little woman as she was sure,--and rightly so,--that it would not be granted. The mortgage held by Miss Pewsey was for three thousand pounds, and the two set their wits to work, to see if they could pay this off by Christmas. Then, they would have a good few months left to arrange other matters. If possible, Olivia wished to keep Royabay, though the outlook was not cheering. Another month slipped by, but few changes took place in Marport. As it was now rather wintry, so many people did not come down to the sea-side. Rupert and Olivia lived rather a lonely life at the Abbey, but being very much in love, this did not disturb them: in fact it was rather a pleasure. Sometimes Chris Walker and his aunt called. Lady Jabe had got over her disappointment, now that Olivia was poor, and constantly abused Miss Pewsey for taking the money. She was making the unfortunate Chris pay attentions to Lotty Dean, whose father was a grocer and had ample wealth. Things were going on nicely in this quarter, and Lady Jabe was pleased. Clarence Burgh had left Marport and was now amusing himself in London. Sometimes he came down to see his aunt, who was getting ready for her bridal and still lived in Ivy Lodge. There, Forge intended to remove when married, as the house was rent free, and already he had given notice to Tidman as the Major told Rupert one evening. "And I'm glad he's going," said the Major, as he sat with his usual bottle of port before the fire, after dinner, "I couldn't stand seeing, that Pewsey cat in my house as Mrs. Doctor Forge." "I wonder why he marries her?" said Rupert who was smoking on the other side of the fire place. "Because he is frightened of her, sir. That woman for some reason makes everyone frightened of her--except me," added the Major swelling, "why even that young Burgh hardly comes to see her, though he's down here now--waiting for the wedding I suppose. It comes off next week and a nice fright that Pewsey cat will look as a bride." Rupert laughed. Olivia had left the room and retired to bed. The Major, who had been fidgeting all the evening, looked round when alone with his host. "I want to talk to you," he said. "What about? Haven't you been talking all the evening." "Not on the subject nearest to my heart," said Tidman sipping his port. "I waited till Mrs. Ainsleigh went away, as I don't want to revive unpleasant memories." "Oh," said Rupert with a shudder, "surely you are not going to talk of the murder." "No--certainly not: but I am of the thing that caused it." Rupert sat up quickly. "The fan. Why that's in China. Tung-yu took it, after he--" "Tung-yu did _not_ take it," said the Major producing a letter. "I thought he did, if you remember, for you and I saw him on the beach on that night." "Yes. He was talking to a boatman." "Arranging for his flight," said Tidman grimly, "and then he went back, as I thought, and murdered that woman. But he didn't," the Major paused to give full dramatic effect. "He thinks I did it." "Oh, rubbish," said Rupert. "If you can prove an alibi on my behalf, I can prove one on yours. We walked and talked on the beach, till nearly twelve. Then you went back to your bed, and I returned to the ball-room. Immediately afterwards the body was found. What makes Tung-yu accuse you, and why do you get a letter from China?" "It's not from China, but from London." "Is Tung-yu there?" asked Ainsleigh, quickly. "Yes. In some place in Rotherhithe. He writes from there, in this letter. Read it," and he passed it to his host. Rupert glanced over the few lines which were very neatly written on yellow paper. The letter was to the effect that if Major Tidman would bring the fan to a certain place in Rotherhithe, he would receive the money. "Humph," said Ainsleigh, handing it back, "so it seems that Tung-yu has not got the fan." "Yes, confound him, and he thinks _I_ have it, in which case he must believe that I murdered Miss Wharf." Rupert nodded. "It looks like it," said he, "what will you do?" "I don't know. I do not want another Canton adventure. I thought," here the Major hesitated, "I thought you might go." Ainsleigh did not burst out into a voluble refusal, as Tidman expected, but stared at the fire. Seeing this, Tidman urged his point. "I think if you went, you might get at the truth of the matter," he said. "If Tung-yu didn't murder Miss Wharf, who did? Will you go?" Rupert still gazed at the fire. He was thinking of the eight thousand pounds due to him, held by Lo-Keong and which, if gained, would pay off Miss Pewsey. "Yes," said he at length, "I'll go." It was a risk, as he knew, but the money was worth the risk. CHAPTER XV THE ROTHERHITHE DEN As a rule, Rupert told his wife everything, thinking there could be no happiness, unless a married couple were frank with one another. Also, he frequently went to Olivia for advice, believing in the keen feminine instinct, which usually sees what is hidden from the denser masculine understanding. But on this occasion, he refrained from revealing the object of his visit to London, as he knew she would be feverishly anxious, all the time he was absent. It was just possible that Hwei might be at Rotherhithe instead of Tung-yu, and then Rupert might meet with a death similar to that of Miss Wharf. Certainly he had not the fan, and never did possess it; but how was he to convince a distrustful Asiatic of that. Therefore, Rupert went to town one afternoon by the nine o'clock evening train from Marport, and Olivia thought, he was merely going to see his lawyer on business connected with Miss Pewsey's mortgage. Her husband was to return the next day in time for luncheon, and, as he had often run up to town before, Olivia had no misgivings. Had she been aware of the danger he was going into, she assuredly would not have let him go. Mrs. Ainsleigh had led an unhappy life, and now that things were brighter, she certainly did not wish to see her days clouded, by the loss of the husband whom she loved so dearly. As what money there was, went to keep up Royabay, its master was too poor to travel first class. But he was lucky enough to find a third class smoking carriage empty, and sat down very content. Owing to the nature of his errand, he wished to be alone, to think out his mode of procedure. Tung-yu would not be an easy person to deal with, still less would Hwei, should he happen to be on the spot, and Ainsleigh had little knowledge of the Chinese character. From what Forge said, he judged it to be dangerous. There were few people travelling by the train, and Rupert quite believed that he would have the compartment to himself. But just as the train was moving off, a man dashed into the carriage and dropped breathlessly on the seat. "I guess that was a narrow squeak," he gasped. "Mr. Burgh," said Rupert, by no means pleased. "Well, I am surprised," said the buccaneer, "if it ain't Ainsleigh." "Mr. Ainsleigh," was Rupert's reply, for he disliked the man too much to tolerate this familiarity. "Oh, shucks," retorted Burgh wiping his forehead, "'tisn't any use putting on frills with me, sir. I guess I'm as good a man as you, any day." "Let us admit you are better," said Rupert coldly, "and cease conversation." But this Mr. Burgh was not inclined to do. "I reckon this old tram won't stop at any station for half an hour," said he pulling out a long black cigar, "so I don't see why we should sit like dummies for thirty minutes. Come along, let's yarn. You think I'm a wrong un'. Well, I guess I'm no holy Bill if that's what you mean. But I surmise that I'm friendly enough with you, Ainsleigh." "Our last interview was not of a friendly character." "You bet. You laid me out proper, and gave it to me pretty free. I respect a man who knocks me down. I thought you'd curl up when faced, Ainsleigh, but I see you're a fighter. That being so, why I climb down. Not that I'm a coward--oh, no--not by a long chalk: but I know how to size up things." "And how do you size them up in this case?" "Well," said Clarence lighting up, "I guess you've got the bulge on me. I was sweet on your wife, but you aimed a bulls-eye, and I got left. That being so, I conclude to leave other man's goods alone." "Meaning Mrs. Ainsleigh," said Rupert dryly, "thank you." "Oh, no thanks. I've got enough sins already without putting a gilded roof on my iniquities. See here," Clarence leaned forward and looked agreeable, though his wicked black eyes snapped fire, "why shouldn't you and I be friends?" Rupert did not reply at once. He did not like Burgh, who was an aggressive bully of the Far West. All the same, something might be learned from Burgh, relative to the murder, and to the Chinaman. He knew Hwei and knew something of the fan, so Rupert resolved to be on reasonably friendly terms with the buccaneer in the hope of learning something likely to be of use. If Mr. Burgh had a lantern, there was no reason why Ainsleigh should not use the light to illuminate his somewhat dark path. Therefore, when Rupert did speak, it was to express a wish to be friendly. Yet, strange to say, as soon as he showed a disposition to come forward, Clarence, the wary, showed an equal disposition to retire. "Ho," said the buccaneer, "I guess you want my help, or you wouldn't be so friendly all at once." "I am friendly by your own desire," said Ainsleigh dryly, "if you like, we need not talk, but can part as enemies." "No," said Burgh throwing himself indolently back on the cushions, "fact is, I need you and you need me." "How do I need you?" asked Rupert sharply. "Well," drawled Clarence, eying the clear-cut face of his late enemy, "it's just this way. Aunt Lavinia's an old cat. She was all square with me, so long as she thought I'd hitch up alongside Miss Rayner----" "Mrs. Ainsleigh if you please, and leave out her name." "Right oh. I'll use it only once. Aunty thought I'd annex the cash, and Mrs. Ainsleigh, and that she would live on the pair of us. But as things are Aunty has the cash and you've got the lady, so I am left--yes sir. I guess I've been bested by Aunty. Well sir, I calculate I'm not a millionaire, and I want cash to start out on the long trail. Aunty won't part, shabby old puss that she is; but I reckon if you'll help me, I'll rake in the dollars slick." "Why should I help you?" "To get square about that murder." Rupert drew back, "Do you know?----" "Oh I know nothing for certain, or I shouldn't take you into partnership, but I believe I can spot the person." "Surely you don't think Miss Pewsey----" "Oh no. She wouldn't harm anyone, unless she was on the right side. She's a cat, but is clever enough to keep herself from being lynched. 'Sides, she was comfortable enough with old Wharf, and wouldn't have sent her to camp out in the New Jerusalem, by strangling. But Aunty's going to hitch up long-side old Forge----" "And he?" asked Rupert secretly excited, but looking calm enough. "Go slow. I don't know anything for certain, but I guess Forge had a finger in the pie. He wanted the fan you know." "Nonsense! He had the fan for two years and made no use of it." "I reckon not. He didn't know its secret--and the secret's worth money I judge." "Do you know the secret?" "No. If I'd known I shouldn't have passed the article along to old Wharf. But I'm hunting for the secret, and when I find it out, I'll shake old Forge's life out for that fan." "But Tung-yu has the fan?" "Ho!" snorted the buccaneer, "and Tung-yu's gone to China with Hwei and the fan. Shucks! They gassed that at the inquest, but the poppy-cock don't go down along o' me. No Sir. I guess old Forge has the article. Now you sail in with me, and find out." "How can I?" "Well," said the buccaneer reflectively, "your father was a friend of the doctor's and he's chums with you. Just you get him to be confidential like, and then----" "Forge is the last man to be confidential with anyone," said Rupert coldly, "and if this be your scheme I can't help you. There is not a shred of evidence to prove that Forge killed Miss Wharf." "No. That's a frozen fact; but I guess I'm going to straighten out Forge to pay out Aunty. Then both will have to part with cash for my going on the long trail. I'm in the dark now, but later----" An end was put to Mr. Burgh's chatter by the stoppage of the train at a station, and by the entrance of a joyful party of father, mother and three children. These last returning from a happy day in the country made themselves agreeable by crying. Clarence closed his mouth, and only bent forward to say one last word to Rupert, "I reckon we'll talk of this to-morrow when I get back to Marport," said he, "I'm putting up at the Bristol, and aunty's footing the bill." Ainsleigh nodded and buried himself in his own thoughts. He did not see how Clarence could bring the crime home to Dr. Forge, but the buccaneer evidently had his suspicions. Rupert resolved to keep in with Burgh on the chance that something might come of the matter. He saw well enough that Clarence, in desperate want of money, would do all in his power to prove Forge guilty and would then blackmail him and Miss Pewsey, or, as she would then be, Mrs. Forge. This last design which Rupert suspected Burgh entertained, he resolved should not be put into practise: but if Forge was guilty, he would be arrested and tried. Therefore when Clarence parted with Ainsleigh at the Liverpool street station, the latter was moderately friendly. "'Night," said the buccaneer wringing Ainsleigh's hand. "See you to-morrow at Marport. Keep it dark," and he winked and disappeared. Ainsleigh moved towards the barrier to give up his ticket. As he did so he was roughly jostled, but could not see the person who thus banged against him. He left the station however, with the feeling that he was being followed, and kept looking back to see if, amongst the crowd, there was any special person at his heels. But he could see no one with his eyes on him. Yet the feeling continued even when he got into the underground train, which was to take him to Rotherhithe. The young man had put on a shabby suit of blue serge for the adventure and,--as the night was rainy,--wore a heavy overcoat, the same in fact, which he had left in the cloak-room of the Bristol hotel on that memorable occasion. The compartment was filled with a rather rough set of workmen going home, and some were the worse for liquor. However Rupert sitting quietly in his own corner was not disturbed and arrived in Rotherhithe without trouble. He was thankful for this, as he did not wish to have a row when engaged on a secret errand. It was dark and stormy when he stepped out into the street, but as the address given in the letter written to Major Tidman, was that of a narrow street close at hand--Rupert had looked it up in the Directory,--he did not take a cab. On his way along the streaming pavement he again had the sensation of being followed, and felt for the revolver, with which he had very wisely provided himself. But nothing happened, and he arrived at the mouth of the narrow street which was called Penter's Alley. There were few people about, as the ragged loafers were within, not caring to face the pelting rain in their light attire. Rupert stepped cautiously down the side street, and saw in the distance a Chinese lantern, which he knew, marked the house he was to enter. This token had been set forth in the letter. Just as the young man was half way down, a dark figure, which had crept up behind him, darted forward and aimed a blow at him. Rupert dodged and tried to close: but at that moment another figure dashed between the two men and delivered a right-hander. There was a stifled cry of rage and the clash of a knife on the wet pavement. Then the first assailant cleared off, and Rupert found himself facing his rescuer. "Just in time," said Clarence Burgh. "What, you here," said Rupert surprised. "I left you at the station." "I guess that's so, but I followed you--" "And by what right--" "That's square enough," replied Burgh, "you'd agreed to work along with me on this racket." "Not altogether. I had not made up my mind." "Well I guess you'll make it up now Mr. Ainsleigh. It was a good job I came after you as I did, or this would have been into your ribs," and he held up a long knife which he had picked up. "I am much obliged," said Ainsleigh, "but--" "Well if you're obliged, let me go along with you and see you through this game. I don't know what it is, but I'm on for larks." Ainsleigh reflected, and on the impulse of the moment trusted the man. Clarence had undoubtedly saved his life, and it would be just as well to take him. Also Clarence could do no harm, as Tung-yu and Hwei would see to that. "Very good," said Ainsleigh, "come along. I'm going to where that Chinese lantern is." Clarence gave a long whistle and smote his leg, "Gad," said he between his teeth, "you're on the Chinese racket again." "Oh, behalf of Major Tidman," and Rupert rapidly gave details. Burgh whistled again, "Ho," he laughed, "so they think Tidman's the strangler. Well I guess not. Forge for my money. Let's heave ahead Ainsleigh, and see what the Chinkeys have to say." The two moved on and stopped under the lantern. A sharp knock at a closed door brought forth a Chinese boy, who was dressed--queerly enough--all in red. Rupert recalled Tidman's adventure at Canton, and did not like the look of things. But Clarence pushed past him and addressed the boy. "We've come to see Tung-yu," said he, "give this brat the letter, Ainsleigh." The boy took the letter and instead of looking at it by the light of the lantern, smelt it carefully. Then Ainsleigh remembered that it was strongly perfumed with some queer scent. Clarence cackled. "Rummy coves these Chinese beasts," said he politely. Evidently the boy was satisfied, for he threw open the door, and the two adventurers entered. They passed along a narrow corridor to a second door. On this being opened, they turned down a long passage to the right and were conducted by the red boy into a small room decorated in Chinese fashion, somewhat after the style of that in Dr. Forge's house. At the end there was a shrine with a hideous god set up therein, and before this, smoked some joss sticks giving out a strange perfume. A tasselled lantern hung from the ceiling. The chairs and table, elegant in design were of carved black wood, and the walls were hung with gaily pictured paper. The room was neat and clean, but pervaded by that strange atmosphere of the East which brings back curious memories to those who have travelled into those parts. After conducting them into this room, the red boy vanished and the men found themselves alone. "Well I reckon we're got to make ourselves comfortable," said the buccaneer sitting, "rum shanty--just like an opium den I know of, down 'Frisco way. Ho! I wonder how Tung-yu's escaped the police?" "I wonder rather who it was that tried to knife me," said Rupert sitting. Clarence looked queer. "We'll talk of that when we get through with this business. Here's some fairy." Even while he spoke a tall lean Chinaman entered noiselessly. He had a rather fierce face and one eye. Burgh started up. "Hwei," said he amazed. "I thought you had lighted out for 'Frisco." CHAPTER XVI THE FAN MYSTERY The one-eyed Chinaman did not smile, nor did he greet Burgh in any way, friendly or otherwise. He simply looked at the two, with an impassive gaze and then glanced at a clock, the hands of which pointed to thirty minutes past eleven. What a clock should be doing in this Eastern room, the visitors could not make out. It seemed to be out of place. Yet there it was, and there was Hwei staring at it. He still preserved silence and brought his one eye from the clock to Rupert with a malevolent glare. "Major Tidman has not come," said Hwei in English, as good as that spoken by Tung-yu, but in a grating voice. "No," said Rupert who was addressed. "He received your note,--or rather Tung-yu's letter,--and asked me to come here on his behalf." "And I guess Hwei," drawled Clarence, "that I have come to see the business through." "That will not take long," said the Chinaman cheerfully, yet with an unpleasant stare, "where is the fan of the Mandarin?" "I have not got it," replied Ainsleigh shortly. "Major Tidman did not send it perhaps." "No. For the simple reason that it is not in his possession." "That," said Hwei grimly, "is a lie." "It's the truth," chipped in Burgh suddenly, "old man Tidman didn't choke that woman!" "You mean Miss Wharf." Burgh nodded. "That's so," said he in a curt way, but with a watchful eye on the one-eyed Chinaman. Hwei gnawed his long finger nails, and then slipped his hands inside his long hanging sleeves. In his dull blue clothes with the clumsy slippers, he looked taller than ever, and quite as unpleasant as at first sight. His pig-tail was coiled round his shaven head. He looked sharply at the two men with his one eye, and appeared to be thinking, "It's my day," said he at length. Ainsleigh and Burgh jumped up. "Do you intend to murder us?" asked Rupert. "If you have the fan," rejoined Hwei coldly, "it is the order of the god Kwang-ho," and he bowed reverentially to the ugly image. "What right's that second hand joss to give orders in a free country, Hwei?" asked Clarence, "and don't you think, we'll give in without laying you out." Hwei made a clicking noise with his tongue and then smote a small brass gong which hung near the door. The thunder had scarcely died away before the door opened and there appeared four or five villainous looking Chinamen with long knives. Rupert stepped back and stood against the wall, with his revolver levelled. But Clarence simply produced the knife he had picked up on the pavement. "I guess," he said reflectively, "you tried to knife Ainsleigh outside. The knife here's the same as those things yonder," and he nodded towards the door. "Well, sail in. We're ready for the play." Hwei started at this speech, and chattered something in Chinese. At once the door closed and the three were again alone. "I never ordered anyone to be knifed outside," he said, with his one eye on Clarence, "that would be foolish. First the fan, then the death." "I was certainly attacked outside," said Rupert lowering his revolver. "Who attacked you, sir?" "I can't say. But perhaps Burgh--" "That's my business," said the cheerful Clarence who had taken his seat, and did not seem to be at all afraid of the dangerous position in which he found himself, "what we have to do, is to yarn about this fan. I saw you in 'Frisco, Hwei. I reckoned the fan was there." "We thought so, Mr. Burgh, but it came to the ears of Lo-Keong that it was in England. So then I came here." "Ah, I saw you in China also," said Clarence. "You did, and learned much about the fan--too much," growled Hwei. Rupert who was growing weary of all this hinted mystery sat down again, and threw the revolver on the table. "I wish you would make a clean breast of this," he said calmly. "I don't care about the fan, but I do want to know who killed Miss Wharf." "Major Tidman did." "No. He was with me on the beach. I went out to smoke and we strolled up and down till nearly twelve. He was with me shortly after eleven, so he could not have killed the woman." Hwei pointed a long finger at the young man. "I saw Major Tidman speaking to a boatman on the beach--the boat came from the Stormy Petrel--" "Your boat," said Burgh quickly. "No. The boat of Tung-yu. It was my day, but Tung-yu hoped to get the fan after twelve at night and then would have had the right to take it away in the boat. Major Tidman killed Miss Wharf and gave the knowledge of his crime to Tung-yu. He would not part with the fan till the money was paid. Tung-yu went away in the boat so that the police might not get him. He was wise," added Hwei with a queer smile, "as he is accused of the murder." "Which you committed." "No I did not. Had I found Miss Wharf outside I should have killed her. It was my hour, but she escaped me." "Then you were in Marport on that night?" asked Rupert. Hwei nodded. "Not at the hotel. Tung-yu went to the ball, and was to bring Miss Wharf out down the steps, so that I could kill her. I came to the steps about twelve, and while waiting on the beach I saw you sir, talking to the Major. But Tung-yu betrayed me." Hwei's face looked fiercer then ever. "He did not bring her to me in my hour, and so betrayed the trust of the god Kwang-ho. He wanted her to live, so that he might buy the fan next day." "But so long as he got the fan--" Hwei flung out a long arm. "No," said he austerely, "if Tung-yu gets the fan it goes with its secret into the hands of Mandarin Hop Sing, who is the enemy of my master." "And who is your master?" asked Clarence. "Lo-Keong. Listen." Hwei took a seat and talked, with his one eye on the visitors. "The fan is my master's, and holds a secret which means much to him. It was lost. We invoked the god Kwang-ho. By the mouth of his priest the gods said that two men should search for it. I was to search for Lo-Keong, and Tung-yu for Hop Sing the enemy of my master. Hop Sing's emmissary was to buy the fan at a large price, I was to kill the person who held it. Thus, said the god, justice would be done. The person who held the fan would be rewarded for virtue or slain for evil. One day is mine and the next day is Tung-yu's. At the ball I had my hour, and had I found Miss Wharf I would have slain her for the fan. But Tung-yu betrayed me, as he wished to buy the fan next day. But the god Kwang-ho interfered, and the woman who held the fan wrongfully met with her doom. Great is the justice of the god Kwang-ho," and he bowed again to the ugly image which was half veiled by the curling smoke. Rupert stared at the man who talked such good English, yet who used it, to utter such extraordinary things. He was not acquainted with the Chinese character, and could not understand the affair. But on reflection he concluded that the alternate killing and rewarding was adopted as giving a chance of treating the person who secured the fan in the way he or she deserved. "I see what you mean," said he, "if the person got the fan wrongfully, it would come into your possession in your way, if rightfully, it would go to Tung-yu, therefore the holder of the fan would be rewarded according to his or her deeds." Hwei bowed. "Great is the wisdom of the god Kwang-ho," said he. "Then I guess you're wrong and the god also," said Clarence, "old Miss Wharf got the fan squarely enough from me." "She had it wrongfully," said Hwei obstinately "else she would not have been slain." "Who slew her?" asked Rupert seeing the uselessness of argument. "Major Tidman." "No. I tell you he was on the beach. Tung-yu killed her." Hwei shook his head, "Tung-yu dare not," said he, "the god would slay him if he disobeyed." "The god didn't slay him when he played low down on you in keeping Miss Wharf back from your knife," said Clarence. "Tung-yu has done penance. He has made amends. He wrote to Major Tidman telling him to come here on my night, so that he might meet with his doom." "But he hasn't come." "He is afraid." "No," said Rupert decisively, "the Major has not the fan. Who has, I know no more than I do who killed Miss Wharf." Hwei wavered, and his keen face grew troubled. The persistence of Rupert was having its effect. "Are you sure?" "Quite sure," said Ainsleigh promptly. "Will you swear this before the god Kwang-ho." "Certainly--but remember I am a Christian." Hwei went to the shrine and brought forth a joss stick. "The god Kwang-ho is all powerful," said he solemnly, "if you lie, he will not spare you. Burn this joss before him and swear." "No," said Rupert drawing back. "I am a Christian." Hwei's eye flashed with fury. "You are lying," said he, "you will never leave this place alive." "Oh I guess so," said Clarence easily, "neither I nor Ainsleigh has the fan, and you can't kill either of us unless the god grows angry. You've got to climb down before him." "That is true," said Hwei dropping the joss-stick, and sat in his chair with a puzzled face. He then pointed to the clock, the long hand of which was drawing to twelve. "When that strikes, my hour is over," he said, "but I may kill you before then." "You've got ten minutes to do it in," said Burgh cheerfully, "and Ainsleigh and I intend to fight for it. You'll be hanged too." "No," said Hwei. "I'll be on my way to China with the fan. I have a boat waiting near, to take me to a special steamer. I intended to kill Major Tidman, take the fan and go. Then all the police in the country would not have caught me." "And your nice little plan has been defeated by the Major not coming up," said Rupert calmly, "just as well he didn't. And I have not got the fan." "Who has--who has," said Hwei biting his nails, and evidently quite at a loss. "I made sure--" he looked at Clarence. "Oh it wasn't me," said that gentleman promptly, "but I may know who killed the old woman and has the fan." Hwei flung himself forward. "Tell--tell--tell," he grasped, and he laid his long fingers on Burgh's throat. The young man threw him over with a great effort and slipped back to the wall, where he stood beside Rupert. The two had out their revolvers. "You wait," said Clarence in a breathless voice, for the struggle though brief had been violent, "tell me the secret of the fan, and I'll give you the name of the person who has it." "What," cried Hwei furiously, "betray my master, you foreign devil. I will kill you first." "You've just got five minutes to do it in," cried Burgh jeeringly. The Chinaman put his fingers to his lips and blew a shrill whistle. In a moment the room was filled with Chinamen, chattering and screaming like so many infuriated parrots. Hwei threw himself on the young men. "Die--Die--" he said thickly. "Fire--fire," cried Clarence, kicking Hwei back. For the next few minutes Rupert had no very clear idea of what was happening. He fired into the mass of Chinamen pushing forward, and heard a cry as a man dropped. The others fell over him, and in the struggle upset the shrine. The ugly joss rolled on to the floor and caught fire. There were shrill screams from the Chinese, who began to jab with their knives. Clarence was rolling on the floor in close grips with Hwei, and the draperies of the joss flared away in a brilliant manner. It seemed as though the two rash men would be either burnt or stabbed, and the end was coming rapidly. All at once the silvery chime of the clock sounded and then came the rapid striking of the hour. The door opened and the boy in red appeared. He said something in a screaming voice, and then, almost as by magic, the room emptied. The rolling mass of Chinamen had extinguished the flaming joss, and Hwei, suddenly disengaging himself from the buccaneer, darted through the door. The boy followed with the rest of the assailants, and when Rupert and Burgh got their breath they found themselves facing the still smoking joss, with Tung-yu blandly smiling at them. "Ho," said Clarence rising and shaking himself. "I guess the row's over. Hurt Ainsleigh?" "Got a flesh wound," said Rupert, winding his handkerchief round his left arm, "and you?" "I'm as right as a pie. So here's Tung-yu. Your hour I guess." The Chinaman bowed, and picking up the god restored him to his shrine, which was considerably damaged. "It is lucky the red boy cried that Hwei's hour was over," he said coolly, "or you would both have been killed." "You wouldn't have got the fan though," said Rupert throwing himself down on his seat, "but you don't intend to kill us I suppose." "No. The god Kwang-ho is merciful now. I make you rich." "Humph," said Burgh crossly, "I wish I had that fan with me." "You have, or Mr. Ainsleigh here, has it," said Tung-yu, "I will give you five thousand for the fan." "I haven't got it." "Think--ten thousand." "Great Scot!" cried Clarence avariciously, "wish I could trade." "Fifteen thousand," said Tung-yu his eyes glittering, "come gentlemen it's better to be rich than dead. For the next twenty-four hours I can give you money. Then comes Hwei's hour and he will kill you." "Not much," said Burgh, "I'm going to cut." "You shall be kept here, till you give up the fan." Rupert shrugged his shoulders. "You won't believe," he said, "why not search us. Then you can see we have not the fan. Do you believe that Major Tidman has it?" "Yes. He gave it to you. He killed--" "He did not. Can you swear that he did?" "No. But I thought--" "Oh shucks," said Clarence shoving himself forward, "see here Mr. Tung-yu. I'm sick of this business. We haven't got that durned fan. But I can tell you who has." "Tell then and I give you a thousand pounds." "Not good enough," said Burgh coolly, "see here, you let us go free and tell us the fan's secret, and I'll tell you." "Yes, and get the fan, and learn the secret," cried Tung-yu excited, "but you cannot make use of the secret." "Don't want to. And as to the fan, you can get it from the person I tell you of. Then you can fork out fifteen thousand." The Chinaman deliberated. "We have been wrong about Major Tidman, I think," said he politely. "It seems someone else has it. I suppose----" "I didn't kill the old girl myself if that's what you mean." "Quite so," said Tung-yu, after another pause. "Well, as you can't make any use of the secret I'll tell you of it. Then you can go free, after you have told me who killed Miss Wharf." "Right oh," said Clarence, and Rupert listened breathlessly. "The fan," said Tung-yu, "is jade on one side, and enamel on the other. The enamelled side is painted with a picture invisibly. To bring out the picture, this fan has to be waved in certain smoke--" "What sort of smoke?" "I won't tell you that," said Tung-yu politely, "I have told enough." "Well, then," said Rupert, "when the picture is visible what happens?" "It will show a hiding place which contains certain things we want to get, in order to ruin Lo-Keong with the Empress." "Oh, I see, a plan of a secret hiding-place." "Now you know," said Tung-yu to Clarence, "tell me----" "Not till I know of the smoke." "I refuse. But I give you fifteen thousand to get that fan. One thousand now if you tell me who killed the woman and who has it." "Good," said Clarence, "I'll trade. Dr. Forge strangled Miss Wharf." "Ah," said Tung-yu leaping up, "he has the fan. Thanks Kwang-ho," and he bowed to the half-destroyed image. CHAPTER XVII A DISAPPEARANCE When Rupert returned to Marport next day, Burgh accompanied him. The young squire of Royabay wished to give information to the police regarding the guilt of Forge. But Clarence persuaded him against doing so. "You'll only get me into a row," said he, in his candid way. "You see I told a lie." "You tell so many lies," said Rupert sharply, "I don't know but what I ought to give you in charge." "I guess not, seeing I saved your life last night." "No. You're right there Burgh. But have you really anything to do with this murder?" "No, 'cept as how I told old Tung-yu last night." "Just repeat what you said. I was so faint with the loss of blood that I didn't gather half you said." Burgh nodded. "You were pretty sick. I'd to help you back to civilisation, same as if you were drunk. If I hadn't, you'd have been robbed and killed down that Bowery gangway." Ainsleigh could not, but acknowledge that Clarence had acted very well. He had saved him from the man who attacked him in the street, and also, it was owing to him that the two had escaped from the gang of Hwei. Finally Burgh had taken Rupert back to the Guelph Hotel in Jermyn Street, when he was rather shaky from the wound. It was much better this morning, but Ainsleigh looked pale, and not at all himself. Still he did not grudge the trifling wound--it was merely a scratch although it had bled freely,--as the knowledge he had acquired, was well worth the trouble. They had left the den in Penter's Alley, some time after midnight, and had returned safely to the West, where Rupert had acted as host to Burgh. That was Clarence all over. Whenever he did anyone a service, he always took it out of him in some way, and but, for the dangerous position in which he found himself would have quartered his carcase on Rupert for an indefinite period. "But there ain't no denying that I'm in a fix," said Burgh, as the train drew near Marport. "That is, if you split Ainsleigh." "No, I won't split on you. But if Forge is guilty he must be arrested," said Rupert decisively. "But I don't know if he strangled the old girl after all." "You said he did, last night." "Well I wanted to know the secret of that fan." Rupert shrugged his shoulders. "You know that the fan when waved in a certain smoke--of which by the way you learned nothing--reveals a hiding place which contains certain things Tung-yu wants--" "To ruin Lo-Keong," said Burgh quickly. "So I guess if I can pick up that fan from old Forge, I'll yank in the dollars." "Aren't you satisfied with what you have." "This thousand. Oh that's all right. I cashed the cheque before I joined you at the station--got it in gold so I can clear out when it suits me. It's always as well to be ready to git." "I suppose," said Ainsleigh dryly, "in your varied career, you have had frequent occasions to 'git' as you call it." "You bet. But git's slang American and good Turkish lingo, so you've no need to sneer old man. 'Say, about Forge. What's to be done?" "I'll communicate with Rodgers and tell him what you say. If the doctor is guilty he must suffer." "My eye," said Clarence reflectively, "won't aunty be mad. Well I guess this will square us: she won't play low down on me again." "Burgh, you're a blackguard." "I am, that's a fact," said the buccaneer in no wise disturbed. "But don't you say that in public or the fur'll fly." "Pooh. You know I'm equal to you. But this story--" "The one I told Tung-yu last night," grinned Burgh, "I'll reel it out now, and you can sort it out as you choose. I believe Forge to be the scragger of the old girl, because he had that tie of yours." "How did he get the tie?" "I gave it to him," confessed Clarence candidly. "Yes--I remember you said so last night. But I forget how you explained the getting of it." "Huh," drawled Burgh folding his arms. "You might call it stealing old pard. Y'see Miss Pewsey--my old aunty that is--saw Olivia--" "Mrs. Ainsleigh, hang you." "Right oh," continued Burgh imperturbably. "Well, aunty saw Mrs. Ainsleigh pass the tie to you, and when you went to the cloak-room she told me. I was real mad not knowing how things were, as I wanted that tie for myself. I'd no notion of your getting things made by the young lady I was sweet on." "I wish you would leave out my wife's name," said Rupert angrily, and wincing with pain, for his wound hurt him not a little. "I'll try: don't get your hair off. Well I cut along to the card room--no t'wasn't the card room--the cloak-room, and saw you standing by your coat, just hanging it up again." "And you saw me put the tie in the pocket." "I guess not: but I fancied you might have done so. Then I waited outside while you yarned with the Chinese cove and Tidman. After that I cut in and you know the rest." "Up to the time I knocked you down. Well?" "Smashing blow," said Burgh coolly, "you can use your hands pretty well I reckon--but a six shooter's more in my line. Well, when you cut, I lay down and saw stars for a time. Then I thought I'd pay you out by annexing the tie." "You didn't know it was there?" "Thought it might be," rejoined Burgh coolly, "anyhow there was no harm in trying. I found the tie, and went out with it, thinking you be pretty sick when you found it gone. I went into the card-room where old Forge was cheating I guess, and had a yarn along o'him. He just roared when I showed him the tie, for he hates you like pie." "What's that?" asked Rupert sharply, "you are mistaken." "I guess not. That old man would have been glad to see you scragged, Mr. Ainsleigh. He asked me to let him have the tie--" "What for?" Burgh shrugged his shoulders. "He didn't say. But I let him have it anyhow. I wasn't in a position to refuse. Y'see Ainsleigh I'm not a holy Bill and--" "And Forge knows a few of your escapades likely to land you in--" "Y'needn't say the word," interrupted Burgh in his turn, "t'isn't a pretty one. But I guess Forge could make things hot for me if he liked, so that was why I lay low when I saw the tie round the old girl's throat. I guessed then, Forge had scragged her and boned the fan. I asked him about it, and he lied like billeo. Said he'd lost the tie, and never touched the old 'un. Then he said if I made any fuss, he'd tell the police about--" "About what?" asked Ainsleigh, seeing the man hesitate. "Huh," replied Burgh, uncomfortably, "I guess that's my business. I told you I wasn't a saint." "I suspect you're a thorough paced gaol-bird." "No, I ain't been in quod. Where I cavorted round, in the Naked Lands, they don't shove a man in chokey for every trifle." "Such as murder. Eh?" "I haven't murdered anyone yet," confessed Clarence, easily, "but one never knows. But I told about Forge last night, as I wanted to get this thousand. Now I'll try for the fan, and see if I can't get the fifteen thousand to come my way. If Forge cuts up rough, I'll light out with what I have"--he slapped his pockets--"for Callao," and he began to sing the old song:-- "On no occasion, is extradition, Allowed in Callao." And I know a daisy of a girl out there," said the scamp, winking. Ainsleigh was too disgusted to speak. He felt that as he was as big a ruffian as Burgh, to tolerate this conversation, and he was relieved when the train steamed into Marport station. As soon as it stopped he jumped out, and nodding to his companion, he was about to take his leave, when Clarence stopped him. "Say. You won't round on Forge till I get this fan business settled." "I intend to write to Rodgers to-day," said Ainsleigh, tartly, "bad as your aunt is, she shan't marry that scoundrel if I can help it." "But I only know Forge got the scarf as I told you. He mightn't have scragged her y'know. He says he didn't." "And relied on what he knows of you to keep things quiet. No, Mr. Burgh, I intend to have the man arrested," and Rupert turned away, while Clarence, apparently not at all disturbed, went away whistling his Callao ditty. Rupert drove to Royabay and was welcomed with joy by his wife. She was much alarmed when she saw his condition, and was very angry when he told of his danger. She made him lie down, and bathed the wound, of which Rupert made light. "It's nothing, dear," he said. "It might be dangerous. There might have been poison on that knife, Rupert. You know what the Chinese are." "No, Olivia, I certainly don't. All this business of the fan and the god Kwang-ho is most ridiculous." "Tell me all about it," said Olivia, when she had placed a tray, with tea and toast, before him. "I shall do so at once, as I want your advice," and Rupert related all that had occurred from the time of his meeting with Clarence Burgh in the train on the previous night. Olivia listened in silence. "Well," asked Rupert, drinking his tea, "what do you think?" "I think Mr. Burgh is a scoundrel." "Anyone can see that!" "And worthy of his aunt." "Perhaps. She's a bad one that Miss Pewsey, but she may not know what a rascal she has for a relative. And at all events, I can't let her marry Forge. Do you believe he is guilty?" "He might be," said Olivia cautiously, "but I would much rather believe that Burgh gave the tie to his aunt and that she strangled aunt Sophia." Rupert laughed. "What a vindictive person you are dearest," said he. "Miss Pewsey is bad but not so bad as that." "I'd credit her with anything," said Olivia, who was truly feminine in her detestation of Miss Pewsey. "She has insulted me for years, and put aunt Sophia against me, and caused me to lose the money." "Well--well," said Rupert soothingly, "let us think the best of her--she has her good points." "Where are they--what are they? She is a--no," Olivia checked herself and looked penitent, "I really must not give way to such unworthy feelings. I'll try and think the best of her, and I agree with you darling, that she must not marry Dr. Forge." "Do you think I should write to Rodgers?" "Certainly. The marriage must be stopped. Write to-day." But Rupert did not write that day, for the simple reason that the wound on his arm grew very painful, and he became delirious. The doctor who was called in, said that there was poison in the blood and then Olivia was alarmed lest Rupert should lose his arm, and perhaps his life. However, the doctor was young and clever and by careful treatment he drew out the poison and in a few days, the young man's arm had resumed its normal condition, and his brain again became clear. Then he wrote a letter to Rodgers asking him to come down to Royabay on a matter connected with the murder of his wife's aunt. After the letter had been posted, Rupert went out for a walk with his wife, and strolled round the grounds. As the two crossed the lawn admiring the beauty of the day which was bright and clear and slightly frosty, Mrs. Petley appeared, coming up the avenue. She made straight for the young couple. "Please Master Rupert, that gent's called again." "What, Mr. Burgh?" said Olivia, and then in answer to her husband's enquiring look she explained. "He has called for the last three days, dear, since you were ill. I never told you, as I thought it might worry you." "And he just called to ask how you were, Master Rupert," said the old housekeeper, "and never come nearer than the lodge, as old Payne can testify. I told him you were out walking and he asked if he could come in and see you." "Certainly," said Rupert--then, when Mrs. Petley hurried away, he turned to Olivia. "Burgh simply wants to find out if I have communicated with Rodgers. He's frightened for his own skin." Shortly Mrs. Petley returned with the information that Mr. Burgh was nowhere to be seen. This did not trouble Rupert who thought that the buccaneer (always of an impatient disposition) might have grown tired of waiting. With Olivia, he strolled round the grounds for thirty minutes and at length entered the ruins of the Abbey. Here the first thing they saw, was Mr. Clarence Burgh seated on a stone under the copper beech. He jumped up and came forward, with his usual grace and invariable impudence. "Glad to see you out again, Ainsleigh," said he taking off his hat, "and you look well, Mrs. Ainsleigh--just like a picture." "Thank you," replied Olivia, concealing her dislike with difficulty, "you wish to see my husband I presume." "Just for two shakes," said Clarence easily, "say old man, what about Forge. Are y' going to round on him?" Rupert nodded, "I have written to Rodgers to-day. But I'll give him this chance of escape--warn him if you like." "Not me," said Burgh coldly, "every man for his own durned skin--begging your pardon Mrs. Ainsleigh. I saw him while you were trying for Kingdom Come, and told him that he'd the fan." "What did he say?" "Gave me the lie. Swore he'd been in the card-room between eleven and twelve, and never saw the old girl. Said he'd had enough of the fan, as it had nearly caused his death. Then he said he'd split on me if I gave him away." "But you told him, you did confess to the Chinaman." "Oh that's all right. Forge don't care a red cent for their telling the police. They won't engineer the biznai into the courts. So long as they get the fan, they don't mind. Forge knows they won't make the matter public, but now he's in mortal fear, lest they should kill him." "Thinking he's got the fan." "You bet--on my evidence. Well," said Burgh calmly and with a twinkle in his evil eyes. "I reckon old man Forge is in an almighty fix. He's in danger of being knifed by Hwei--thanks to me, and of being hanged for killing the old girl--thanks to you." Olivia's face expressed her disgust. "If you have heard all you wish to hear, we'll go away," she said to her husband. "Right oh," said Burgh. "Don't mind me. Pretty place y'have here," he added looking round the beautiful cloisters, "that's the place where they lynched the old monk I reckon. I've heard that silly rhyme of yours, Ainsleigh. I guess you've fulfilled one part." "How so?" asked Rupert stiffly. "About the marriage y'know. A poor Ainsleigh has wedded a poor wife. So that's all right. Now I--" "I must be going," interrupted Ainsleigh annoyed by the man's glib talk, "have you anything else to say?" "Only this. Forge is going to hitch long-side Aunt Lavinia to-morrow, and if you run him in, she'll get left." "All the better for her," said Ainsleigh calmly, "he's a bad lot." "That's so. Much worse than you think. He was the man who tried to stab you in Penter's Alley." "No." "He was though. I saw his face under the lamp, as he let fly. Then he cut and--you know the rest. But I'm off. My eye," Clarence chuckled, "what a shine there'll be to-morrow, when Aunty gets left." Burgh strolled away whistling, and Olivia expressed her disgust at his free and easy manners. Rupert, reflecting on what Clarence had told him of Forge's assault, resolved to be a fair and open enemy. He decided to call on Forge and tell him that he had written to Rodgers. Also, he desired to ask why he attempted the second crime. Olivia approved, so Rupert went early next day to Tidman's Avenue. The door was opened by Mrs. Bressy who was wiping her mouth as though she had just been at the bottle, which was probably the case. In reply to Rupert's enquiry for her master, she told him that Dr. Forge had gone. "He went to Londing, sir--larst night," said Mrs. Bressy. "Did he leave any address?" "No, Mr. Ainsleigh, he did not." The inference was easy. Forge had bolted. CHAPTER XVIII A SURPRISE Rupert was much disappointed that Forge had not been arrested. Apart from the fact that he thought the old scoundrel should suffer for his dastardly crime in killing an inoffensive woman, he wished to learn what Forge could reveal of his father's death. The explanation already given, did not satisfy him, and he suspected that the doctor knew more than he chose to admit. But under pressure, and standing in danger of his life, he might be induced to be more explicit. But, as the man, apparently warned by Clarence, had disappeared, there was no more to be said. And Forge had taken a large trunk, and all his loose cash, so there was no doubt that he intended to keep away from Marport. Ainsleigh, much disgusted, went to seek Clarence Burgh at the Bristol Hotel, but learned, that he also, had gone away. Much perplexed the young man sought out Major Tidman, and laid the case before him. The Major was much astonished at the recital, and very angry to learn that Hwei and Tung-yu suspected him of the murder. "But I guessed they did, from the fact of that letter asking after the fan," said Tidman, pacing his room, much agitated. "I hope Ainsleigh, they don't think I have it now, or my life will not be worth a moment's purchase." "No. You needn't worry. Burgh has fully convinced them, that Forge has the fan." "Then they'll make for him." "No doubt, and perhaps that is why Forge cleared out. But I don't understand why our friend Burgh should make himself scarce." "I do," said Tidman sitting down and wiping his bald forehead, "he isn't a man with a clean past, and Forge knows about it. It's just on the cards that, to revenge himself on Burgh for having told Hwei about the fan, Forge has written to the police giving an account of Master Clarence's delinquency." "But, on the other hand, if Burgh warned Forge that I had written to Rodgers, the doctor might forgive him." "Not he. Forge is a bitter hater, and after all, Clarence would only be trying to right, what he had put wrong. If he'd held his tongue about the fan and the murder, there would be no need for Forge to cut. As it is, I believe the doctor will make it hot for our mutual friend." "When did you see Burgh last?" "At dinner last night. He said nothing about going away, and I quite believed he would stop on. He's in good quarters here and Miss Pewsey is paying the bill. But he took a small bag with him, saying he was going up town for a few days, and left by the nine evening train." "Ah! He may come back after all." "He may: but I doubt it. He doesn't want to face an inquiry. You see he gave the tie to Forge and said nothing about it at the inquest, so that makes him an accessory after the fact." "But Burgh didn't know Forge's game." "No. All the same he should have spoken out at the inquest. Well, and what is to be done now?" "Nothing. I'm sick of the whole business. But Forge told me that this Mandarin, Lo-Keong, holds eight thousand pounds belonging to my father. I intend to write for it." Tidman looked doubtful. "I don't think you'll get it," said he, "unless you produce the fan." "Oh! I expect Forge has taken that away with him." "Well then, Tung-yu and Hwei will be on his track, and I shouldn't give much for his life." "Wait a bit. He may get the money from Tung-yu." "If he chances on Tung-yu's day. Queer start that," added the Major musingly, "the red boy appeared when I just had my big toe cut off and saved my life. It happened, much the same with you, and Hwei lost his power, as he was getting ready to kill you. I wonder these two scoundrels obey the god so slavishly." "Oh, they are both afraid of the god," said Rupert, rising to take his leave, "but I must get home. There's nothing more to be discussed." "Nothing," replied the Major chuckling, "unless it is about that old cat's disappointment. I'll go up to St. Peter's church and see how she takes it." "Of course," said Ainsleigh lingering at the door, "it's her wedding day. I expect she knows by this time, that Forge has cut." "I hope not," said the Major cruelly. "I wouldn't lose the fun for something." Rupert didn't agree with his callous view of the case, as Miss Pewsey was a woman after all, although a bad one; and it would be hard that she should suffer, what she would certainly regard as a public disgrace. So Rupert avoided St. Peter's Church, and went home again. Here he found Olivia with a letter. "This arrived by the early post," she explained, "but you went out so quickly, that I could not give it to you. Just look at it Rupert, such beautiful writing." "A foreigner's evidently," said her husband, looking at the really elegant calligraphy. "They take more care than we do of their pot-hook and hangers. Olivia." He started. "What's the matter?" Rupert put the envelope under her nose. "Smell it. Don't you recognise the scent." "No," said Mrs. Ainsleigh, "it's a strange scent." "Very, and was used to perfume the letter which Tung-yu sent to Major Tidman. This may have to do with the fan again." Olivia looked nervous. "I wish we could hear the last of it," she said. "It has caused enough trouble already. Open the letter, dear." Rupert did so and was more astonished than ever. "Here's an unexpected development," he remarked passing the letter to Olivia, "Lo-Keong is in England." Mrs. Ainsleigh read the few lines which stated that the mandarin was stopping at a fashionable hotel in Northumberland Avenue, and would do himself the honour of calling on the son of his old friend in a few days. "He's come to see after the fan personally," said Olivia returning the letter. "I am glad." "So am I," said Rupert quickly. "I'll now learn the truth about my father, and see if I can't get that eight thousand pounds." "Rupert, do you think Lo-Keong killed your father?" "I can't say. Forge declared over and over again, that he died of dysentery, and that Lo-Keong seized the money for the Boxers. But I'll demand an explanation from the Mandarin." "Will he give it?" asked Mrs. Ainsleigh doubtfully. "He'll have to," replied Rupert grimly, "and he'll have to give the money back also. I don't care for Forge's cash, as a villain such as he is, doesn't deserve any reward. But I want my own eight thousand, and I'll have it." "I hope so," sighed Olivia, "we could then pay off Miss Pewsey, or rather Mrs. Forge, as she no doubt is by this time." "No. Forge has bolted." "What, on the eve of the wedding?" "Yes. He cleared out last night. Either he fears being arrested for the murder of your aunt, or he dreads lest Hwei should come down to kill him for the sake of the fan. At all events he has gone, and Miss Pewsey is no doubt waiting at the altar of St. Peter's Church, for a bridegroom who will never come. But we must attend to our own troubles, dear. I'll write to the Mandarin to-day and ask him to visit us when it suits him. Or else I can run up----" "No," interrupted Olivia in a voice of alarm. "I won't have you go away again, until this fan business is settled. I'm always afraid of your falling into the hands of these Chinamen. I shall ask Mr. Lo-Keong, to stop them searching for the fan." "He can stop Hwei," said Rupert rising, "but Tung-yu is in the employment of Hop Sing, the Mandarin's rival. Don't be afraid, my dearest, I have been protected by Providence these many days, and it is not likely that I'll come to grief. But I fear for Forge and for Burgh, who has likewise bolted. Those two will certainly get into trouble." "It is wrong to say so," said Mrs. Ainsleigh with a sigh, "but I _do_ dislike that man Burgh, and Dr. Forge also." "Leave them in God's hands, dear," replied her husband gravely, "if they have sinned, they will be punished. What we have to do, is to learn if Lo-Keong will restore this money. I'll write, asking him to come down to Royabay," and Rupert went to the library forthwith. It was an autumnal day with a promise of rain. Ragged clouds drifted across a cold blue sky, and the wind was rather high. Already many trees had shed their leaves, but the pine boughs still bore their sombre burdens. Everything looked old and miserable, and there seemed to lurk a premonition of evil in the air. At least, Olivia thought so, as she stood at the drawing-room window, looking out on to the terrace and down the avenue, which could be seen from this point of view. Rupert was in the library engaged on his letter to the Mandarin, and Olivia was half inclined to join him. She felt weary, chilly and out of spirits, and could not account for doing so. "I'm the happiest girl in the world," she assured herself, "I have married the man I love, and he adores me. He rescued me from a miserable life, and is making me immensely happy. I should certainly be in the best of spirits, yet----" She stopped short at this point and her eyes became fixed, while a colour flushed her somewhat pale cheeks. And no wonder. Up the avenue, battling against the force of the wind, came Miss Pewsey. She wore a bridal dress of white, a lace bonnet trimmed with orange blossoms, and carried a bouquet of flowers. To see this figure in such a dress walking under a sombre sky, between dripping trees, and with the winds blowing furiously against it, was a strange sight, and gave Olivia what the Scotch call "a grue." Then she became indignant. It was insolent, she thought, that this woman who had insulted her so often, who had made her life miserable, who had robbed her of her inheritance and who had tried to defame her character, should thus present herself. On the impulse of the moment and in spite of wind, and of the rain, which was beginning to fall, Mrs. Ainsleigh threw open the French window and stepped out on to the terrace. It was in her mind, to order Miss Pewsey away. She deserved little mercy at Olivia's hands. The noise made by the opening of the window made Miss Pewsey raise her head, and then she came straight across the grass. As she drew near, Olivia was struck with the tragic horror of her face. She was always old in her looks, but now she seemed at least a hundred. Her lips were white, her eyes red and with dark circles under them; a myriad wrinkles ploughed her face, and her usually bright eyes were dim and blood-shot. To see this weird face under the bridal bonnet was at once grotesque and pathetic. Without a word, Miss Pewsey climbed the steps gasping at every step, and came directly towards Olivia. She passed her and entered the room. Mrs. Ainsleigh came after in a whirlwind of passion. "What do you mean?" she demanded, "this is _my_ house." "I am aware of the fact," said Miss Pewsey dropping into a chair and shaking out her soiled and sodden bridal dress, "but it may be mine before the end of the year. But don't let us quarrel," she went on in a piteous way, "I'm in trouble." "What is it?" asked Olivia, who could guess. "Theophilus has left me. Yes! Last night he went away leaving a cold letter behind him which was to be delivered to me at the altar. And it was," wept Miss Pewsey, "that old woman Mrs. Bressy brought the note. It said that Theophilus has left me for ever. And all my friends were there, and I was awaiting the happy hour, then--then--" she broke down sobbing. Olivia was touched. Miss Pewsey had always been her enemy, yet there was something about the unhappy creature which called for sympathy. "I am sorry for your trouble," said Mrs. Ainsleigh, in a softer voice. "No," said Miss Pewsey drying her eyes with a very wet handkerchief, "you can't be, I never liked you, nor you me." "That is perfectly true, and you turned my aunt against me. All the same I _am_ sorry, and anything I can do shall be done." Miss Pewsey threw herself on her knees before her enemy, who was thus heaping coals of fire on her head. "Then ask your husband to leave my Theophilus alone," she whispered. "Clarence, who has also gone, wrote to me, and said that Mr. Ainsleigh accused Theophilus of the death of my dearest Sophia." "What," cried Olivia, "does Mr. Burgh dare. Why he accuses Dr. Forge, himself. Rupert certainly wrote to the detective Mr. Rodgers, but Mr. Burgh has to substantiate his statement." Miss Pewsey jumped up. "What," she said, much more her own evil self, "did Clarence accuse my Theophilus? It's a lie--a lie. I have kept silence too long--much too long." "About what?" "About the murder," screamed Miss Pewsey, "it was Clarence who killed my Sophia--yes--you may look and look Olivia--but it was Clarence himself. He took the tie from the coat-pocket. I told him, you had given it to him, and--" "But he gave it to Dr. Forge." "He did not. Clarence took Sophia out on to the steps--at least he appointed to meet her there, to tell her about the fan. Then he strangled her, thinking your husband would be accused. Theophilus came on Clarence when he was picking up the fan. Sophia held it in her death grip, and it was some time before he could get it loose. Theophilus came, and hearing steps, Clarence ran away down to the beach. Then he returned to the ball-room by the front of the hotel." "But the fan?" "Theophilus Forge has it," said Miss Pewsey, setting her face, "and I expect he has taken it with him." "Why didn't you tell this at the inquest." "Because I didn't. Clarence is my own sister's son. I could not see him hanged. He had to hold his tongue, although he wanted the fan back again. But I insisted that Theophilus should make the money out of it. This is Clarence's revenge. Because the fan is kept from him he threatens Theophilus; oh Olivia, _do_ ask your husband to leave the matter alone. I will give up that mortgage--" "I can do nothing," said Olivia, "it isn't in my husband's power. He has written to Rodgers--" "But he has not told him anything," said Miss Pewsey eagerly. "No. He merely asked him to call." "Then he shall see _me_, and I'll tell him of Clarence's wickedness. But the fan--the fan--we'll get the money and Theophilus will come back to be loved and respected. I don't love him, but I see we can make a lot of money together. The fan," said Miss Pewsey counting on her lean fingers, "the money from Lo-Keong--the money of Sophia and--" "Oh," cried Olivia in disgust, "go away you miserable creature, and think of the hereafter." Miss Pewsey gave a shrill laugh. "You can't help me, and your husband can't help me, so I'll go. But when I come back here, it shall be as mistress. I hate you Olivia--I have always hated you--I--I--oh you--" she could utter no more, but gasping, shook her fist and ran out of the window and down the avenue with an activity surprising in a woman of her years. After dinner and while they were seated in the library, Olivia told Rupert of Miss Pewsey's visit and accusation. He declined to believe the tale. "If Burgh was guilty he wouldn't have brought an accusation against Forge," he said, "as the doctor, if this is true, knows the truth. And Forge, if innocent, would not have cleared--" While Ainsleigh was thus explaining, the door was burst open and Mrs. Petley, white as chalk, rushed in. "The ghost--the ghost," said she dropping into a chair, "the monk--in the Abbey." Anxious to learn if there was any truth in these frequent apparitions reported by Mrs. Petley, Rupert left the swooning woman to the care of his wife and departed hastily from the room. Calling old Petley, he went out of the front door across the lawn and into the cloisters. Petley, hobbled almost on his heels with a lantern. The young man stopped at the entrance to the cloisters, and listened. It was raining hard and the ground was sopping wet. But beyond the drip of the rain, and the sighing of the trees, no sound could be heard. Snatching the lantern from Petley, Rupert advanced boldly into the open, and swung the light to and fro and round about. He could see no ghost, nor any dark figure suggestive of Abbot Raoul. "Try the black square," piped the feeble voice of Petley, behind. With a shrug Rupert did so. He thought that the housekeeper was mistaken as usual, and that the ghost was the outcome of her too vivid imagination. Walking deliberately to the black square where Abbot Raoul had been burnt three hundred years before, he swung the light over its bare surface. In the centre he saw something sparkle, and stooped. Then he rose with a cry. It was a fan. Rupert picked it up, opened it, and looked at it in the lantern light. There were the four beads and half a bead and the green jade leaves. The very fan itself. CHAPTER XIX A VISITOR How came the fan there--and on the accursed square of ground where no grass would grow? Rupert was not superstitious, yet his heart gave a bound, and for the moment he felt sick. This fan was the cause of much trouble in the past, it had cost one woman her life, and it might yet claim another victim. With the fan in his hand, and the yellow light of the guttering candle in the lantern gleaming on its beauty, he stood stupidly staring, unheeding the feeble piping of Petley's voice, as he peered in at the ruined archway. "What's the matter, Master Rupert?" questioned the old butler with a shiver, "have you seen _It_?" "No," said Rupert at length, and he hardly knew his own voice so heavy and thick it was, "there's nothing to be seen." A cry came from the old man. "Don't stand on that accursed ground, Master Rupert," he said, almost whimpering, "and to-night, of all times." "Why to-night," said Rupert, retreating back to the arch. "Any night," shivered Petley putting his hand on his young master's arm and drawing him out of the cloisters, "it's not a good place for an Ainsleigh to be in at night. The Abbot--" "John, I don't believe in the Abbot." "But Anne saw him--or It. She's not the one to tell a lie." "Mrs. Petley is deceived in some way." Rupert considered a moment, and thrust the fan into his pocket. In the darkness, and because he turned aside the lantern light, old Petley had not seen that anything had been picked up. "I'm going to search round," said Rupert. The butler gave a long wail as Ainsleigh broke from his grasp. "No! no!" he cried, lifting his long hands, "not at night." But Rupert, now quite himself, did not heed the superstitious cry. He disbelieved in ghosts more than ever. Some flesh and blood person had brought the fan, and recollecting Burgh's story, and what Olivia had reported of Miss Pewsey's talk that afternoon, he quite expected to find Dr. Forge lurking in the cloisters. He would search for him, and when face to face, he would demand an explanation. So Rupert swiftly and lightly, walked round, holding the light high and low in the hope of discovering some crouching form. And all the time Petley waited, trembling at the door. The rain fell softly and there was a gentle wind swinging the heavy boughs of the pines, so that a murmurous sound echoed through the cloisters like the breaking of league-long waves on a pebbly beach. For at least half an hour Rupert searched: but he could see no one: he could not even find the impression of feet, sodden as was the ground. After looking everywhere within the cloister, and in the Abbey itself, he brushed past the old butler and walked down the avenue. Here also, he was at fault as he could see no one. The gates were closed: but there was a light in the small house near at hand. Ainsleigh knocked at the door, and shortly old Payne, holding a candle, above his head, appeared, expressing surprise. "Has anyone entered the gates to-night?" asked his master. "No sir. I closed them at five as usual. No one has come in." There were no signs of the gates having been climbed, and the wall which ran round the estate was so high and the top was pricked with such cruel spikes, that no one could possibly have entered that way. Old Payne insisted that no one had entered: he had heard no voices, no footsteps, and seemed much perplexed by the insistence of his young master. At length Rupert desisted from making inquiries, being perfectly assured that he would learn nothing. He returned up the avenue slowly to the mansion, wondering how it came about, that Forge had entered the ground and left the fan on the very spot where Abbot Raoul had been burnt. Mrs. Petley had recovered from her swoon and, with her husband, had retreated to the kitchen. So, Rupert learned from Olivia, and he then gave her a description of his finding of the fan. She was very amazed and curious. "Show it to me," she said. "Not just now, dear," replied Rupert walking to the door. "I must ask Mrs. Petley first to explain what she saw." "She declares it was Abbot Raoul." "Pooh. Forge masquerading as the monk I expect. Though why he should come here and bring this infernal fan I cannot understand. What is the time, Olivia?" "Nine o'clock," she replied, "we had dinner early." "Yes. Well, I'll see Mrs. Petley. You need not say anything about the fan, and as old John didn't see me pick it up, there will be no difficulty with him." "Why should there be any difficulty with him?" asked Mrs. Ainsleigh. "Your aunt was killed for the sake of the fan, and the person who killed her must have been within these grounds to-night. I want to keep the matter quiet, until I see Rodgers to-morrow. Then I'll explain all, and place the fan in his hands." "Then you think Dr. Forge has been here?" "Yes--or Clarence Burgh. But, as they have left Marport, I don't see what they have to gain by remaining in a place fraught with so much danger to both." "They can't both be guilty, Rupert." "No. But Burgh declares that Forge strangled your aunt, and Miss Pewsey lays the blame on her nephew. But I don't believe either one of them. I shouldn't be at all surprised to learn that the assassin is Major Tidman after all. He wanted the fan badly, so as to get the money." "But you were with him on the beach, between eleven and twelve." "I was, and the evidence of Dr. Forge went to show that Miss Wharf was killed between those hours. But suppose, Olivia," Rupert sank his voice and drew nearer. "Suppose Forge knew from the condition of the body that your aunt had been killed _before_ eleven, and had procured the fan from Tidman by threatening to say so, in which case the Major could not have proved an alibi." "It might be so," replied Mrs. Ainsleigh, "but then the body would have been found earlier." "No. There was not a single person, so far as I know, who went down those steps. Tung-yu certainly did,--but that was after the crime was committed, and we know he did not carry the fan with him. It is a very strange case. Perhaps after all, Tidman had already killed the woman when he joined me on the beach to smoke." "Oh Rupert, how horrid. Was he disturbed?" "He certainly seemed rather alarmed but I put that down to the circumstances. He never shook off his fear of that adventure he had in Canton, and of course the mere presence of Chinamen would make him uneasy. But he kept his own council. However, we can talk of this later. I must see Mrs. Petley," and Rupert disappeared. The housekeeper stuck to her story. She had gone into the cloisters to gather mushrooms which grew therein, and had the lantern with her. While stooping at the archway to see what she could pick she heard, even through the moaning of the wind the swish of a long garment. The sound brought her to her feet, and--as she phrased it--with her heart in her mouth. The place was uncanny and she had seen the Abbot before. "But never so plain--oh never so plain," wailed Mrs. Petley, throwing her apron over her white hair and rocking. "I held the light over my head and dropped it with a screech, for, there, not a yard away, Master Rupert, I saw it, with a long gown and a hood over its wicked white face--" "Did you see the face?" "I did, just as I dropped the lantern. White and wicked and evil. I dropped on my knees and said a prayer with closed eyes and then it went. I took the lantern and ran for the house for dear life, till I burst in on you and the mistress. Oh, Master Rupert dear, what did you see?" "Nothing! And I believe, Mrs. Petley, you beheld some rascal masquerading." "No! No! T'was a ghost--oh dreary me, my days are numbered." Mrs. Petley could not be persuaded that the thing she saw was flesh and blood, so Rupert gave up trying to convince her. He returned the lantern back to old John and told the couple to retire to bed. They were both white and nervous and not fit to be up. Then he came back to the drawing-room and found Olivia seated by the fire reading. At the door Rupert paused to think what a pretty picture she made in her rich dinner-dress--one of Miss Wharf's gifts--and with one small hand supporting her dainty head. She looked up, as though she felt the magic of his gaze, and he approached swiftly to press a kiss on the hand she held out to him. "Well?" asked Olivia. Rupert shrugged his shoulders. "There's nothing to be learned," said he, "Mrs. Petley won't give in. She believes she has seen a ghost, and declares that her days are numbered. As she is nearly seventy, I daresay they are. But this fan,"--he took it out of his pocket. "Let me see it," said Olivia stretching out her hand. But Rupert drew it away and spread out the leaves. "No, my dear, I don't like you to handle the horrible thing. And besides, you have seen it often enough in the hand of your aunt." "Yes, but now there is an awful significance about it." "There's blood--" "Blood," cried his wife shuddering, "but she was strangled." "I speak figuratively, my dear. This little trifle has cost one life: it may cost more. I am quite sure Lo-Keong's life hangs on this fan, or he would not be so anxious to get it back. It has a secret, and I intend to learn what the secret is." "Oh, you mean to wave it in the smoke," said Olivia remembering what Rupert had told her of Tung-yu's speech. "Yes I do. I want to see the invisible picture. Then, we may learn of this hiding place which contains the things, Lo-Keong's enemies wish to secure. I expect it is some treasonous correspondence." "But, Rupert, the hiding-place will be in China. Lo-Keong would not send papers of that kind to be concealed in England." "It would be the safest place," replied Rupert dryly, "however, I intend to try the experiment of waving this fan in the smoke." "You don't know the kind of smoke?" "I can guess the kind. Olivia do you remember that joss-stick which Mrs. Petley found in the Abbey." "Yes--at the time she saw the ghost." "Precisely. The ghost left that joss-stick behind on the first occasion, and the fan on the second. Now I shouldn't wonder if the fan had got into the hands of Hwei, and that _he_ was the ghost." "What makes you think that?" "Well, Hwei confessed that he was lurking outside the Bristol hotel to get a chance of killing Miss Wharf when she was lured out by Tung-yu. That gentleman however played false. All the same Hwei was here, and perhaps he came up to the Abbey--" "Why?" asked Olivia looking perplexed. "Ah, that I can't tell you. But I fancy the answer is to be found in this fan, as soon as we see the picture." "But the smoke." "Must be made by that joss-stick. It smells like cinnamon, and is apparently a manufactured article. Hwei brought it, so that he could wave the fan in its smoke and then learn the secret. But he dropped the joss-stick and--where is it Olivia?" "I put it in a drawer over there, after you showed it to me." Mrs. Ainsleigh went to a rose-wood cabinet and opened a drawer. She then returned with the joss-stick in her hand, and gave it to her husband, who was kneeling on the hearth-rug. "I hope it won't explode, Rupert," said Olivia nervously. He stared. "Why should you think that?" "Well it might have been dropped on purpose, and looks like a cracker with that red paper round it. Perhaps there's dynamite--" "Nonsense," said Rupert taking out a match, "however, if you are afraid, go into the next room." "No," said Olivia seating herself, "if you are to be blown to bits, I'll be blown up with you." They both laughed at the idea, and then Rupert lighted the match. It was distinctly nervous work however, and Olivia started back, as her husband set the joss-stick fizzling. She was leaning forward in the chair with her dark head nearly touching his fair hair. The joss-stick smoked slowly and a queer odour diffused itself though the room. Olivia sniffed. "Rupert," she said positively, "it's the same scent as was on that letter of Tung-yu's." "And of Lo-Keong also," said Rupert watching the thick bluish smoke, which now began to curl up from the joss-stick, "apparently the Mandarin uses the perfume as a kind of clue, or perhaps it is a special scent dedicated to this private god of his. I shall never understand Chinamen and I'm very sure I don't want too. Olivia, hold the stick while I wave the fan in the smoke." Being now assured that the smoke was proceeding from a harmless article, Mrs. Ainsleigh took the stick and held it lightly, while her husband gravely waved the out-spread fan in the thick smoke. The joss-stick fizzled and burned and gave out its queer smell, which made both slightly dizzy. Every now and then, Rupert looked at the enamelled side of the fan, where Tung-yu said that a picture would appear. There certainly did seem something scrawled on the smooth green sticks, and a blurred outline revealed itself. For quite ten minutes Ainsleigh continued waving, until the joss-stick burnt down nearly to the root. Then he looked again, Olivia placed the still fizzling joss-stick in the fender, and peered over his shoulder. She uttered a cry when she saw the black outline of the picture, and Rupert nearly echoed it. They were looking at a drawing of the cloisters. Yes--there were the cloisters of Royabay Abbey taken, as by a camera, from the archway. The architecture was clear enough, and the trees also. But the picture was merely evanescent, for as the fan grew cold again the outlines vanished. However, they knew that the hiding place of the presumed papers, was within the cloisters of Royabay--but in what spot. Rupert laid down the fan and propounded the problem to his wife. "The indications would be more exact." "Yes," replied Olivia thoughtfully, and picked up the fan, "I suppose you are right, Rupert. It must have been Hwei who came to the Abbey on the night my aunt was killed and dropped the joss-stick. Perhaps he came to see if he could find the hiding place, without the aid of the fan." "No," said Rupert, "Hwei is the servant of Lo-Keong, and probably knew of the hiding place; whereas Tung-yu, who served Hop Sing wanted the fan to learn about it. I expect had Tung-yu bought the fan, he would have come here and found the papers and then have cleared out to China to place them in his master's hands and ruin Lo-Keong." "Are you sure there are papers hidden?" said Olivia, fingering the beads dangling from the thick yellow cord. "I think so. It can't be gold or silver or jewels. However, what we have to do is to find what is hidden. Then when Lo-Keong comes down we can make a bargain with him. If he hands over my eight thousand, I'll give him whatever we find." "But how are we to find the spot?" said Mrs. Ainsleigh dreamily. "Oh, Rupert," she added, "it's in one of the trees. Don't you remember a tree was drawn at the side of the picture with a white line down the trunk?" "No, I didn't see that. I saw the four trees and the stump drawn in the picture." Mrs. Ainsleigh rattled the beads through her fingers. "Four beads and half a bead," she exclaimed, "Rupert, those stand for the four trees and for the stump." "What makes you think so?" "The half bead--that is the stump, and see, one of the beads is of jasper, that might be the copper beech." "By jove," Rupert jumped up, "I believe you are right." "I am sure I am, and in the tree drawn at the side of the picture which you did not observe, there was a white line down the trunk." "Well," said Rupert pondering, "perhaps whatever is hidden is tied to a string or a chain and is dropped down the trunk of one of the four trees--or perhaps in the stump." "Not in the stump," said Olivia quickly, "for then the line would be visible, while in the other trees it would be concealed in the thick foliage. I fancy the line must be down the copper beech trunk, as there is but one red bead." "There is but one tree though--one copper beech you know," said her husband. "I am inclined to think that to make things safer, the hiding place must be in one of the green trees signified by the jade beads. The question is, which tree is it?" Olivia looked at the fan again, and as she did so started. Rupert also raised his head. They heard the sound of wheels scrunching the gravel outside, and wondered who was arriving so late. The clock pointed to half-past ten. The servants had gone to bed, so Rupert followed by his wife, who was rather nervous, went to the door. When Rupert opened it he found himself facing a tall handsome man in a fur cloak, and wearing a strange hat. "Good evening," said the stranger in the best of English, "I speak to Mr. Ainsleigh I think, I am the Marquis Lo-Keong." CHAPTER XX THE MANDARIN EXPLAINS "I must apologise for this very late visit," said Lo-Keong, when he was conducted to the drawing-room by his surprised host, "but I must explain--" "Not now, Marquis," replied Ainsleigh, giving his visitor the rank which he claimed, "you must be weary and hungry." "No. I am perfectly well, and enjoyed a meal before I left London. If you will give my servants orders to take up my luggage, and will then hear what I have to say, you will do everything I desire." Rupert went again to the hall to tell the two Chinese servants, which Lo-Keong had brought with him, to take the trunks up to the bed-room which the Marquis would occupy. Then he went to the back and made Mr. and Mrs. Petley rise. Both were disturbed when they heard that a Chinese grandee was in the house. "I do hope he won't bring trouble with him," said Mrs. Petley to her husband. "I never could abear them things, since I saw that creature who brought home the old master's baggage. And, Missus, as is dead, couldn't bear him either." "He was a cock-eyed man," said old John reflectively. "Cock-eyed yourself," retorted the housekeeper who had a better memory, "he was one-eyed, and a nice ugly thing he looked. Ah well, as I always says, Abbot Raoul don't walk for nothing, and this Chiner gentleman coming here, means trouble." Old John who was much the same way of thinking himself, grew annoyed by his wife's pessimism and told her to hurry up and come to the kitchen. Then he went to see after the bed-room which his master had selected for the untoward guest. Mrs. Petley came down to find her kitchen in the possession of two grave silent Chinamen who had lighted the fire and were boiling water for tea. "Well, I'm sure," said Mrs. Petley surveying both with distaste, "the idear of these furreiners taking liberties," and she sniffed at the Far East. Meanwhile, Rupert returned to the drawing-room and found the Marquis paying attentions to his wife. Lo-Keong was a tall, fine-looking man, grave and extremely polite. He had admirable manners, and his clothes were of the finest. Olivia in her rich dinner dress, felt quite plainly dressed beside this gorgeous gentleman, who wore a jacket of rose-pink, a coat of grass green satin, pale blue silk trousers, and thick-soled white green shoes. He also had a glossy pig-tail woven with silk, and carried a small fan--at which Olivia shuddered. Seated in a deep arm-chair, he looked a potentate, quite out of place in that sober English drawing-room. The Marquis was very affable, and deferential to Mrs. Ainsleigh, who quite overcame her dislike to Celestials after a few moments converse with this splendid specimen of the aristocracy of Cathay. "You are quite sure you won't have some refreshment?" she asked. Lo-Keong waved his slim hand graciously. "I thank you, no," said he, "and if you will allow me to explain myself, you can then retire. I am ashamed of having called at this hour. But," he looked at Rupert first and at Olivia afterwards, "my excuse is a good one. I have seen Hwei--whom you know." Ainsleigh shuddered. "Yes, and I don't retain any very pleasant recollections of that gentleman," said he. Lo-Keong laughed quietly, "Hwei is a true devotèe of the god Kwang-ho." "I don't understand about that god," said Olivia. "I have come to explain," said the Chinaman, "it is a great pity I did not come before. You would then have had no trouble about this," and he took up the famous fan which Olivia had tossed on the sofa. "Oh," the young couple looked at one another, and if they did not say "oh," the expression of "oh"--an amazed "oh" was on their faces. Lo-Keong seemed to have his eyes everywhere, and took up the fan as if it was the most natural thing it should be lying there. "You understand," he went on in his calm well-bred voice. "I have seen Hwei and he told me everything." "About the murder?" "About the murder, Mrs. Ainsleigh, and about the hunt for the assassin; also about your husband's visit to London, and full details concerning the folly of Tung-yu--my enemy's servant, who related how the picture on this," he laid a long yellow finger on the fan, "could be brought to light," his eyes wandered to the fragment of the joss-stick within the fender. "I observe that you have been clever enough to see the picture." "Yes," said Rupert, quite amazed at this penetration, "but how do you know that?" "Very easily. Hwei told me that he came to the cloisters one night to see that all was well----" "He knew of the hiding place then?" asked Olivia, eagerly. "Certainly. I have always trusted Hwei, but Tung-yu did not know, and hence his desire to procure the fan. Hwei was here on the night poor Miss Wharf was killed, and dropped the joss-stick. You have been clever enough to make use of it. Well, now you both know where the packet is?" "The packet?" "Of papers which mean my life--papers connected with the Boxers, which the Mandarin Hop Sing would give much to possess." "We know that the packet is hidden in a tree," said Rupert, "but which tree we cannot guess." "Ah," Lo-Keong slipped the beads through his fingers, "here is a piece of jade with a gold band round it." "The third bead----" "Consequently the third tree. We will look for the packet, as soon as I explain myself. The packet must be safe, as you have the fan, and I know, Mr. Ainsleigh, you are my friend, as I was the friend of your father before you." "What," Rupert threw back his head. "I understood from Dr. Forge, that you were my enemy." Lo-Keong frowned. "Ah! he goes as far as that," said he, then paused a moment. "I will explain." Olivia would have interrupted, but he threw out a long arm in an imperious manner, and began his story without further preamble, playing with the fan all the time. "My name," said the Marquis, "is Lo-Keong, and I am a native of the province of Kan-su----" "Where the mine is," murmured Rupert. "Exactly, Mr. Ainsleigh. My native town is on the Hwei River, and not far from the mine your father bought----" "Along with Dr. Forge." "Pardon me, sir, but Dr. Forge did not buy it. He was merely a servant of your father's. The mine was owned by your father alone. I conducted the negotiations on behalf of the owner of the land." "But Forge says----" "I can guess." Lo-Keong waved his hand coldly. "He blackens my name to you, and lies about the mine. Always bad--always foul, always a liar--that man must be killed. I have spared him too long." Olivia shuddered. "No Marquis," said she, "I beg that there may be no more murders." "Not in England, but when this Forge comes again to China," here the Marquis smiled in a cruel way, but made no further remark. The young people shuddered. He smiled benignly on them, and went on with his story in a calm level voice. "My respected parent was a merchant," said he calmly, "and he gave me a fine education, of which, as you know, we think greatly in the Middle Kingdom. I secured the Hanlin degree, which is very high, and so became greater than my friend Hop Sing, who failed. That success made Hop Sing my enemy. I returned home, and Hop Sing made trouble. It is not necessary to explain how," added the Marquis with another wave of his hand. "But the trouble resulted in my leaving my parental roof, and becoming a soldier with the Boxers who then conspired against the Empress Dowager. But before I left my native town, I acted as the middle man between a respected resident and Mr. Markham Ainsleigh who desired to lease a gold mine on the Hwei River. I left him in full possession of the rights to work the mine, and Dr. Forge assisted him." "Not as a partner?" asked Rupert breathlessly. "By no means, Mr. Ainsleigh. Forge was a good doctor, but he knew nothing about mining. He doctored the coolies, and attended to minor matters. Your father looked after the mine personally. I understand he learned how to do so in California." "Yes--He was there before I was born, but--" "Permit me to continue, Mr. Ainsleigh. Well then, I left your father in possession of the mine, and joined the Boxers. I rose to be a leader, and afterwards returned to see my parents. At that time the rebellion--for that it was--proved unfortunate, so it was necessary that I should conceal myself, I took service with your father as a foreman of the mine, and I can safely say," said Lo-Keong with a certain show of emotion, "that your father saved my life. I consider myself indebted to him, and now I am indebted to his son." "It is very good of you," said Rupert. "I need a friend." "You have one in me," said the Marquis courteously. "But to proceed, as the night grows darker. I was your father's friend, Hop Sing was his enemy, and Forge sided with Hop Sing." "But why did he do that?" asked Ainsleigh impetuously. "Forge was at college with my father--they were great friends--" "So Mr. Markham Ainsleigh thought. But Dr. Forge was greedy and wished to have the mine to himself. Hop Sing, who had some influence at the Imperial Court, promised to help Dr. Forge to get rid of your father and secure the mine provided I was ruined." "And Forge acted this base part." "He did," said the Mandarin quietly. "I may tell you Mr. Ainsleigh that I was completely in your father's confidence. He made a great deal of money out of the mine, and I arranged for it to be turned into safe investments through a third person whose name need not be mentioned. A large sum was placed out at interest and all these many years the interest has been accumulating. You will receive a handsome sum I assure you, Mr. Ainsleigh." "But," broke in Olivia perplexed. "Dr. Forge told my husband that the whole amount was eighteen thousand, of which ten thousand belonged to him and eight thousand to Rupert." "Dr. Forge places the money obtained from the mine at a low figure," said the Chinaman smiling, "what the amount is, I shall tell you later. Meanwhile I must explain the intrigue which led to your father's murder----" "Ah," Rupert leaped to his feet, "then he _was_ murdered." "He was--by the emissary of Hop Sing. Be calm, Mr. Ainsleigh, and be seated. Your father died quietly enough by strangulation----" "What. Was he killed in the same way as Miss Wharf?" Lo-Keong bowed his stately head. "Yes, and by the same person----" "Tung-yu," cried Olivia starting to her feet in her turn. "Exactly, Mrs. Ainsleigh. I know that Tung-yu strangled Mr. Markham Ainsleigh, and I believe that he strangled your aunt." Rupert sat down on the sofa and drew his wife down beside him. "But Tung-yu was the man who was to buy the fan----" "Quite so." Lo-Keong folded and unfolded the fan calmly. "You know of the god Kwang-ho." "Yes--but I can't understand----" "Naturally," the Marquis laughed quietly, "that is a thing beyond the comprehension of a Western barbarian--your pardon for so calling you. Kwang-ho," went on the Mandarin, "is an ancestor of mine who lived during the Ming dynasty. He was a sage, and very famous, so I took him as my private god." Olivia looked amazed and a little shocked. "A private god. I never knew that anyone could have a private god even in China," she said. "If you have read Roman history, Mrs. Ainsleigh, you will remember the Lares and Penates, which were something of the same kind. I was very unfortunate with the public gods of my country, so I chose Kwang-ho to be my genius--my destiny. I had an image made and offered him incense. It was, in fact what you might call ancestral worship; only I looked upon Kwang-ho as one who could control my destiny. I was right," said Lo-Keong emphatically, "for, from the moment I sacrificed to Kwang-ho, my fortunes changed." "In what way?" asked Rupert, wondering that a clever man like this should talk so superstitiously. "In every way. The priest of my new god Kwang-ho consulted the deity and ordered that I should leave the Boxers and attach myself to the party of the Empress Dowager, who was to be all powerful in the future. I think," added Lo-Keong smiling blandly, "that Kwang-ho was right in that. Who is so powerful as my august mistress." "True enough," admitted Ainsleigh impatiently, "but what has this to do with the death of my father?" "Patience, Mr. Ainsleigh. I arranged to leave the Boxers. We were fighting for the Emperor, who was then being crushed by the Empress Dowager. I had many papers showing my devotion to the Boxer cause and to His Imperial Majesty. These papers I intended to destroy: but remembering that some day the Emperor might overcome the Empress, I decided to keep the papers. They would show that I had worked for the Emperor, and thus my fortunes would be secure should His Imperial Majesty reign alone. As yet," added Lo-Keong with a shrug, "he has not reigned alone and my august mistress still rules the destinies of the middle kingdom." "Ah. And if she got those papers?----" "She would cut off my head," replied Lo-Keong quietly, "so now you see why I thought it best to conceal them. I wished to preserve the papers so as to keep myself in favour with the Emperor, when he became supreme, and I wished to conceal them from the Empress Dowager and her spies, while she ruled China. You understand?" "We do," said the young couple. "So you used the means of the fan to tell where they were hidden?" asked Rupert. The Mandarin assented. "I did. I spoke to your father about this plan of concealment. I knew the papers would not be safe in China, as the emissaries of Hop Sing would find them, and I should be ruined, so on the suggestion of your father, I decided to hide them in England." "But why in the Abbey?" "Mr. Markham Ainsleigh's suggestion, sir. He said that this place had been in the possession of his family for years and would likely continue to remain under the Ainsleigh--" "Alas--alas," sighed Rupert. "Not at all, sir," was Lo-Keong's brisk reply, "you will have enough money to keep this place I assure you. But to continue--your father, whose health was very bad, arranged to take his money back to this place, and to take also the papers I wished to hide. We arranged that they should be concealed in the third tree and then I hit upon the plan of an invisible picture on the fan with the assistance of the beads to identify the hiding-place." "But was that necessary when you knew the hiding-place?" "I wished my heirs to benefit by my services to the Emperor during the Boxer rising; and they were not to know of the existence of these papers till I died. So you will understand--" "Yes! It's very interesting, so please go on." "Well while we were arranging these things Forge went to Pekin, and got a concession to work the mine from the Empress through the influence of Hop Sing. Meanwhile, I arranged to enter the service of my Imperial Mistress, and left your father ill of dysentery." "Of which, according to Forge, he died." "No," said the Mandarin decisively, "he was recovering. He had the packet and the fan which he was to take to this place. Hwei was to go with him, and design the invisible picture and hide the packet. I went to see about letting your father have the money which I had invested for him. All was ready and he was winding up his affairs. Then the emissary of Hop Sing strangled your father--" "Tung-yu," said Rupert much agitated. "I have already said that," replied the Marquis rather tartly, "your father died, and Forge obtained the mine. But he did not hold it long. I represented that Forge had obtained the death of Mr. Markham Ainsleigh through Hop Sing. The Empress took my view. Hop Sing was disgraced and I was promoted. Forge had to leave China for the time being, but he came back several times. I sent Hwei to this place with your father's effects and with the fan. He concealed the packet and drew the picture. Your mother was alive then, Mr. Ainsleigh, and Hwei showed her the fan, though he did not tell her the secret." "Ah," cried Rupert, "now I remember where I saw the fan." "Yes," Lo-Keong nodded, "as a boy of five you may remember it." "I certainly do. But Marquis, why did you not send my father's money to my mother?" "Ah. She died, and although I knew you were the heir and in the guardian-ship of Forge who was your enemy I could do nothing. Hop Sing got the upper hand again and I was in my turn disgraced. Then Hop Sing learned about the papers, and about the fan being the means of finding the hiding-place. He ordered Tung-yu to find the fan. Hwei was bringing the fan back from England to me. He was assaulted when he landed in China, but he luckily had given the fan to a brother of his, so Hop Sing could not find it. Then the brother was killed and a coolie, who knew nothing of the fan, took possession of it. Afterwards, I wanted the fan. Hop Sing told me what he suspected, so I applied to the god Kwang-ho. The god declared, through his priest, that Hop Sing was to come with me to the shrine. He did so, and thus, bitter enemies as we were, we came for a time to be in peace." "And then the arrangement was made?" "Yes. The god said that an equal chance must be given to good and evil. Hwei was appointed to find the fan for me, and to give death to the person who had it. Tung-yu acted for Hop Sing and was to give a reward of not less than five thousand pounds so that the person who held the fan should be rich for life. Each was to hold sway for twenty-four hours. I caused this to be published in the Chinese newspaper in Pekin. The coolie heard it and being fearful lest he should be killed, he kept the fan for years and said nothing. Then Major Tidman--" "Ah I know. He came to see how my father died." "Quite so, Mr. Ainsleigh, and the coolie, knowing the fan was connected with the death--for he afterwards went to Kan-su mine and asked questions--gave the fan to the Major to get rid of it, and--" "And we know the rest," said Rupert rising. "Tidman gave it to Dr. Forge, and he gave it to you--or rather you caused it to be taken from him." "No," said the Mandarin, "that is not true. I never saw the fan till now. All these years I have never set eyes on it." "But Dr. Forge said--" "Whatever he said he speaks falsely," said Lo-Keong, "but it is growing late, Mr. Ainsleigh, and I see that your wife is weary. Let us retire and I shall tell you the rest of the story to-morrow. But before I go to rest," added the Mandarin decidedly, "I must assure myself that the packet is still in the trunk of the third tree." Rupert was quite ready and lighted the lantern. The two men went to the Abbey into the pitchy darkness, and walked to the third tree near the bare spot. Lo-Keong who seemed to be able to see in the dark like a cat looked round, and laid his finger on a huge oak. "This is the tree," said he confidently. "But I can't very well see," said Rupert, "from which side do you count?" "From the left to right," explained the mandarin, "in these robes, Mr. Ainsleigh, I cannot climb the tree, will you please to do so. You will find the hollow trunk and the line. Pull it up: the papers will be at the end. Bring them to me if you please." So speaking Lo-Keong took the light and Rupert although in thin evening dress began to climb the tree. Luckily it was not difficult as the branches hung low, but it was disagreeable on account of the dripping wet. Every movement shook down much moisture. However, the active young man disappeared in the foliage and then felt round. He could not see, and came down to get the lantern, which the Chinaman passed to him. Then he found that the trunk of the tree was broken off, amidst the thick branches, and that the centre was hollow. He espied a rusty thin chain, and pulled it up. At the end there was a small box, which he brought down. With an exclamation of joy Lo-Keong took it. It opened easily in his hand. "Gone," cried the Marquis in a voice of anguish. He spoke truly. The box was empty. CHAPTER XXI WHO IS GUILTY? Next morning at the early hour of nine o'clock Orlando Rodgers drove up to Royabay filled with curiosity. He had received Rupert's letter which summoned him to come down on matters connected with the murder, and he was eager to learn details. Rodgers himself, had been unlucky. He had traced The Stormy Petrel to the Thames near Rotherhithe, and had learned from the Captain that two Chinamen had hired the boat for a couple of days. They went down to Marport and had gone ashore early in the evening. They came on board again after midnight, and then had requested to be put ashore at Rotherhithe. The Captain confessed that he had been paid well for the job, and thought--with a wink--that there was no chance of his knowing his employers again. Rodgers of course recognised that Tung-yu and Hwei in their queer partnership had hired the yacht--which it seems was a public boat anyone could take for a period,--and he knew also that the den, where Rupert and Clarence had met with their adventures, was in Rotherhithe. He learned of this from no less a person than Mr. Burgh himself, for the buccaneer called at the police office in London to ask if the Chinamen had been caught. Rodgers had extracted a full account of the adventures, and had gone to the den only to find it empty, and the Chinamen conspicuous by their absence. Burgh himself had not returned as he promised, and the detective was annoyed at this, after he heard Rupert's story. Had he known what this was, he certainly would have arrested Burgh there and then, for participation in the murder. But the astute Clarence in telling his Penter's Alley adventure, had taken care not to incriminate himself. On arrival the detective was shown into the drawing-room where Rupert was sitting with the stately Mandarin. Olivia was not present as she had heard quite enough about the fan, and wished to hear no more, not even the end of Lo-Keong's very interesting story. Rodgers recognised that Lo-Keong was of a different type of Celestial to Tung-yu and Hwei, and paid him great deference. He explained to Rupert his ill-success with the yacht Stormy Petrel, and detailed the interview with Clarence. "I wish I had told you about him in my letter," said Rupert jumping up, much annoyed with himself, "you could have arrested him." And when Rodgers heard the story, he blamed Ainsleigh, as much as he blamed himself for not having risked an arrest on suspicion. "But you know, sir," said he, huffily, "Burgh really didn't give himself away. I could do nothing to him--or to the Captain of the Stormy Petrel either on what evidence I hear. As to those Chinamen--" "Ah," said Lo-Keong, "you must let me deal with them Mr. Rodgers." "Can you deal with Tung-yu." The Mandarin drew down the corners of his mouth. "I think so," said he, "it is my belief that he has the papers." "What papers, sir?" Lo-Keong, seeing it was absolutely necessary to make things plain, if he wanted to secure his precious packet, related almost word for word the story he had told on the previous night. "So you see," he observed, "Tung-yu probably strangled Miss Wharf as formerly he strangled Mr. Markham Ainsleigh. I discussed this with Hwei, and he, knowing that Tung-yu had betrayed him once, was much of the same opinion." "But if Tung-yu has the papers, why did he write to Tidman?" argued Rupert, not inclined to take this view. "Probably to throw Hwei off the scent. Tung-yu knows well enough that if he started for China, Hwei would suspect he had the papers, and would follow him to get them." "By murder?" "Probably," said the Mandarin indifferently, "and after all sir, why not? Tung-yu killed your father and Miss Wharf. Hwei is watching him, and if he can make sure that Tung-yu has my parcel, he will kill him--with my approval," ended Lo-Keong calmly. "Wait a bit," said Rodgers also coolly, though the speech astonished him not a little, "when you talked to Hwei, you did not know that the papers had been stolen." "No. But he who has the fan has the papers. Hwei and I both thought that Tung-yu had the fan, and therefore Hwei watches him. I came down unexpectedly last night instead of waiting, so that I might assure myself that the packet was safe. But only a short time before, Mr. Ainsleigh found the fan. Tung-yu must have come down and taken the papers." Rupert nodded. "Certainly. Without doubt he was the ghost Mrs. Petley saw, and when she came on him suddenly, he dropped the fan and fled. He must have climbed the wall of the park in spite of the spikes." Lo-Keong smiled sourly, "I do not think anything--spikes or otherwise would have kept Tung-yu from gaining possession of those papers. And of course he knew the way to make the picture visible." "How was that. I thought only you and my father and Hwei--" "Ah," said the Mandarin calmly, "it seems that Tung-yu overheard the discussion between myself and your father as to the hiding of the papers and the plan of the fan. When he strangled Markham Ainsleigh, he hoped to find the packet at once. But Hwei secured both the fan and the packet. I have told you how they came to England, and how Hwei gave the fan to his brother. The brother was killed by accident and the coolie I spoke of, found the fan in his clothing, knowing nothing of it's significance. Then he learned the truth from the notice I put in the Pekin paper, and was afraid lest he should offend the god Kwang-ho. No he was not afraid of death--few of us are in China. But the anger of a god is different: it means ages of torment and the chance of being born again in the belly of some creeping animal. So the coolie kept the fan, till he found an opportunity of giving it to a foreign devil, in the person of Major Tidman. I can't understand how he knew the Major wanted the fan, save that he must have heard that Tidman was searching for news as to the death of Markham Ainsleigh. The coolie then knew, from enquiries at the mine, that the fan was connected with the death, and thus that the god Kwang-ho might have appointed the death of Markham. Yes," said the Mandarin complacently, "the coolie was afraid of the god, and no doubt was glad when Major Tidman took the fan." Rodgers stared as Lo-Keong spoke. "It's rum to hear a gentleman like yourself talk this way, sir," he said. "Ah," smiled the Mandarin, "our Eastern ways are different to yours." "Yes," said the detective, "but you are so clever, that I don't see how you can believe in all this stuff about the private god." Lo-Keong waved his hand imperatively. "Let us not speak of that, or we anger Kwang-ho. He is the controller of my destiny. Rather let us see how we can recover my papers from Tung-yu." "If he has them," put in Rupert perplexedly. "And if so, Hwei will get them back." "Assuredly," replied the Mandarin, "the first attempt that Tung-yu makes to leave England for our own land, Hwei will guess the truth, and will kill him to get the fan or the papers." "But the fan is here." "Yes. Hwei however thinks Tung-yu has it. I shall tell him that Tung-yu has taken the papers." "But by breaking the agreement come to before the god, won't Kwang-ho be angry, Marquis." "Hwei does not mind, he is my slave and will do anything for me. No--No," added the Marquis calmly, "as Tung-yu first disobeyed the god, in not bringing Miss Wharf to meet with her doom at the hands of Hwei, Kwang-ho will give him up to my vengeance." Neither of the Europeans could make anything of this. "What we want to know," said Ainsleigh, speaking for himself and Rogers, "is, how did the fan get back to you?" "I told you last night it did not get back," replied Lo-Keong. "I heard from Hwei that the fan was given to Miss Wharf by Burgh--but how he got it--" Lo-Keong shook his head. "From a pirate in Chinese waters." "No. The fan never came back to China," Lo-Keong took a paper out of his pocket, "I should have given that to you last night. It will show you why Hwei and Tung-yu came to look for the fan in England," and he gave the paper to Rupert. The young man read it. It was in scratchy female handwriting, and was to the effect that the fan of the Marquis was in the possession of a certain person in England. No name was signed to this paper, and after Rodgers had read it, Lo-Keong took it again and laid it on the table. "So you see," he remarked, "when I got that letter, I knew the fan was in England. I sent Hwei to search for it, and of course Tung-yu on behalf of Hop Sing came also. They could not find who had written the letter, and advertised the fan as you know." "Then Burgh told a lie," said Rupert. Lo-Keong opened his mouth to speak, but before he could do so, Mrs. Ainsleigh entered with a sheet of foolscap in her hand. "I beg your pardon for interrupting you gentlemen," she said excitedly, "but here is something you should know. Rupert," she turned to her husband and thrust the paper into his hand. "It's from Dr. Forge." "What?" cried Ainsleigh astonished. "Has he dared to write?" "Yes, and he writes to some purpose. Read it out Rupert. I am sure the Marquis and Mr. Rodgers will be glad to hear." "If it bears on the case," hesitated the detective. "It does," answered Olivia seating herself, "listen." Rupert glanced at the heading of the letter. "He gives London as his address," he said, "so he apparently is afraid of being caught." "Read, dear," said Mrs. Ainsleigh impatiently. Thus adjured Rupert began. "My dear Mrs. Ainsleigh," said Forge in his communication, "I write to you rather than your husband, as I think you will judge me fairer than he will." "As if I could," put in Mrs. Ainsleigh impatiently. "I am not a good man, and I never pretended to be. But I have been poor all my life, and the lack of money is the cause of my having acted in a way which, otherwise I should not have done. There is much truth in Becky Sharp's remark that anyone can be good on five thousand a year. Had I possessed that amount this letter would never have been written. As it is, I write, because I hear that the Marquis Lo-Keong is in England, and he will no doubt, tell your husband his own story." "Which is not creditable to Forge," said the Marquis, suavely. Rupert nodded and proceeded.... "I was at college with Markham Ainsleigh, your husband's father, and he believed in me. But I was always jealous of him, as he was handsomer than I was; he possessed an ancient and honoured name, and was fairly well off. I was born of poor parents and was of humble origin. Markham certainly helped me with money and with influence, so that I obtained my degree." "And a nice way he repaid his obligations," said Olivia, sharply. "He's frank enough about his baseness at all events," said Rupert, and then continued the letter. "Markham wanted money, and as the doctor of a liner to Hong-Kong, I had heard of a little-worked gold mine on the Hwei River. I told Markham about it, and proposed that he should go to China to work the mine. He agreed, and took me with him, as he thought that my medical knowledge would benefit him." "Does Forge say he owned part of the mine?" asked Lo-Keong. "No. Listen," said Rupert, reading slowly. "I was merely the doctor, as Markham bought the rights to work the mine with his own money. But he promised me a share, and my share now amounts to ten thousand pounds." "That is true in a way," said Lo-Keong, "out of the money I pay you, Mr. Ainsleigh, this man can certainly claim that amount." "Then what I receive must be a large sum," said Rupert. The Chinaman smiled faintly. "Much larger than you think," said Lo-Keong, "pardon my interruption and proceed." Rupert continued. "But I was not satisfied with my share, and wanted all the money. Lo-Keong had an enemy called Hop Sing, and he promised if I could ruin Lo-Keong that he would put Markham out of the way, and give me the money which had been obtained by working the mine. I knew that Markham had never sent any money home, as he wanted to wait until he could become a millionaire, and then return to astonish his wife, and restore the splendours of Royabay. I therefore saw Hop Sing----" "I think you can leave all that out, Mr. Ainsleigh," said Lo-Keong, "it is the story I told you." "So it is," said Rupert, running his eyes down the closely written page. "Well--hum--hum," he picked up the thread of the tale lower down. "It seems," he said, speaking for himself, "that Hop Sing fell into disgrace, and Forge could not get the money. He went to China several times, as Hop Sing recovered his position----" "And I fell into disgrace," said the Marquis, "the Empress is a woman you know--pardon me, Mrs. Ainsleigh--and whimsical." "Well," said Rupert, smiling, "you seem to have been up and down several times. When Hop Sing was in favour, Forge went to China, but the Mandarin refused to help him to get the money which was under the control of Lo-Keong, unless the fan was obtained. Forge learned the conditions of the fan, and finally got it from the Major. He took it to England and locked it up in a cabinet. But he was afraid to take it to China or use it in case Hwei should kill him." "And Hwei would have killed him," said the Marquis, "it was as well that Forge was so careful. But how did he lose the fan?" "Miss Pewsey took it," said Rupert glancing at the letter. "A woman," the Marquis took the note from the table, and passed it to Mrs. Ainsleigh. "Tell me, madam, is that a woman's handwriting." Olivia looked surprised. "It is Miss Pewsey's handwriting." "Ah," said Rupert, "so she wrote to Lo-Keong telling him the fan was in England. Listen to what the doctor says," and he began to read again. "Miss Pewsey came to my house and was very friendly. She wanted me to marry her, saying she was trying to get Miss Wharf to leave her the money, that should have been left to you Mrs. Ainsleigh." "Ah," said Olivia significantly, "so she _did_ work for that. Go on." The letter went on as follows:--"I didn't like Miss Pewsey who was old and ugly and evil--much worse than I ever was, in my worst days. But she haunted my house and I got used to her. I used to smoke opium, and grew very ill. In fact on more than one occasion I became delirious. Miss Pewsey came and nursed me. She took advantage of my delirium to learn the whole story of the fan, and learned also--don't be startled at this Mrs. Ainsleigh--that through me Markham had lost his life." "We know that from the Marquis," said Rodgers, "but I suspect Mr. Forge wouldn't have spoken out had he not guessed the Marquis would tell the whole yarn. Go on Mr. Ainsleigh." "Miss Pewsey," went on the letter, "insisted that I should marry her, or else she threatened to reveal the story to Rupert. I was unwilling that this should be, as I thought--and very rightly--that I should get into trouble." "And he would have," Rupert, broke off grimly to explain, "I should have shaken the life out of him. However, to continue," and he again began to read this highly interesting letter. "I therefore agreed to marry her, but always sought an opportunity of escape. During one of my insensible fits after a bout of opium smoking, Miss Pewsey took the key from my watch chain and opening the cabinet gained possession of the fan. I denied this to Major Tidman at Miss Pewsey's behest, or else Miss Pewsey would have denounced me." "Not she," said Rodgers, chuckling, "she would have lost her husband had she done so." "She has lost him in any case," said Olivia, "but I can tell you what is in the rest of the letter, as I see Rupert is tired of reading. Miss Pewsey gave the fan to Clarence to give to me----" "To win your favour," said Rupert. "No. To bring about my death. Miss Pewsey thought if I was out of the way, she would get Aunt Sophia to leave her the money." "What a wicked woman," said Lo-Keong, "we have none such in China." "Well," went on Olivia rapidly, "Miss Pewsey wrote to the Marquis saying the fan was in England--" "Here is the letter," said Rodgers nodding towards the epistle. "Yes. How strange I should see it almost immediately after Dr. Forge wrote," said Mrs. Ainsleigh innocently. "Miss Pewsey laid her plans well," said Rupert, looking again at the letter, "she intended to tell Hwei that Olivia had the fan so that she should be killed. But Olivia refused the fan, and Miss Pewsey made Clarence give it to Miss Wharf, so that the poor lady might be killed. But Miss Pewsey delayed the death at the hands of Hwei by holding her tongue, till a will was made in her favour. Chance favoured her, for she got the will altered." "By learning of our marriage when she played the spy," said Olivia. "Quite so," said Ainsleigh, "she then read the advertisement and knew that the two men, Hwei and Tung-yu, were in England. She wrote and told them that Miss Wharf had the fan. The letter was sent shortly before the ball, and after the new will was made. Tung-yu, therefore, came down to the ball to get the fan. This was not what Miss Pewsey wanted, as she desired Hwei to kill the woman." "She knew about the god Kwang-ho, then?" asked Lo-Keong. "I think so, but Forge isn't clear on that point. However, he declared that he does not know who killed Miss Wharf, nor who has the fan. He was told by Clarence, how he,--Burgh, had accused him to the Chinamen, and then grew fearful. Also, he heard that the Marquis was in England, and so he knew the whole story would come out. As he dreaded arrest, he fled." "But he could have prevented Burgh from speaking," said Olivia, "you know, Rupert, how Mr. Burgh told you that Forge knew things about him." "I daresay if the Marquis had not come to England, Forge would have silenced Clarence and fought the matter out. But he knew that the truth about my father's death would be told by the Marquis, and also dreaded, lest he should be accused of Miss Wharf's murder. He says that Clarence never gave him the tie as he says he did, and declares that he was in the card-room all the evening." "How does he end the letter?" asked Rodgers. Rupert read the last words. "So I write you this, Mrs. Ainsleigh, to show you that I am innocent of the death of your aunt. I see that the game is up and that I'll never get the ten thousand from Lo-Keong. Also, if I remain, I shall have to marry Miss Pewsey and cannot bear the idea. When you get this I'll be far away on the sea on a voyage to a land I need not particularise." "Not China, I hope," said the Marquis, "if he comes there again, I shall have to kill him. He deserves to be punished for having brought about the death of my friend Markham Ainsleigh. What is to be done now, gentlemen? We are no further on than before." "We certainly don't know who had the fan," said Rodgers. "Or who has the packet," put in Olivia. "Tung-yu has it I am sure," said Lo-Keong. "I don't agree with you, Marquis," said the detective. "Tung-yu and Hwei certainly cleared back to Rotherhithe by that yacht, but if the fan had been on board Hwei would have spotted it." "Tung-yu is very cunning," said the Marquis doubtfully. "Well," said Rupert, folding Forge's letter up, "I suggest that the Marquis should offer a large reward for the fan with his own name appended. Then whosoever has the packet will bring it. For of course," added Rupert shrewdly, "those who had the fan--if more than one--will have the packet." "Tung-yu--Tung-yu," said the Marquis shaking his head, "however, I will try the advertisement, and appoint a place. I am willing to give a large sum for the packet." "And I am prepared to arrest the person who brings the packet as the murderer of Miss Wharf," said Rodgers, "you leave the thing to me Marquis." "Come with me to London my friend," said Lo-Keong, "and we will write the advertisement. I shall reward you largely, if you get this packet back again." "And what will you do, Rupert?" asked Olivia eagerly. Her husband looked up. "I shall hunt for the packet on my own account." "Good," said Lo-Keong in his stately manner, "we will see who is fortunate enough to bring me the packet and earn," he looked at Rupert impressively, "one hundred thousand pounds." CHAPTER XXII AFTER-EVENTS Rodgers went to London with the Marquis Lo-Keong that very day, and Rupert wanted to go also. But Olivia objected to this, she feared lest her husband should be wounded again. "I don't wish to lose you darling," said Mrs. Ainsleigh coaxingly. "But the money," said Rupert dubiously. "You mean the hundred thousand pounds," said Olivia. "That will be paid to you by the Marquis. It is rightfully your own." "Humph! It seemed to me that Lo-Keong hinted he would pay the money to whomsoever brought him the packet. In that case Rodgers--" "Nonsense," said Olivia quickly, "I am quite sure that the Marquis means well to both of us. No doubt he will reward Rodgers largely, should he get the packet: but he will give you your father's money." "All the same I should like to hunt for the packet on my own account, Olivia," said Rupert obstinately. "Let those hunt, to whom the packet is of value." "But I don't believe that this advertisement will bring forth anything," argued Ainsleigh frowning "if Tung-yu has the packet, he certainly won't pass it along to Lo-Keong. If Burgh stole it, he will be afraid lest Hwei, who is in Lo-Keong's pay, should kill him. As to Tidman--" "You thought he was guilty," said Olivia smiling. "And I still have my doubts," rejoined her husband, "so I'll call at the Bristol and have a talk." This conversation took place the day after the Mandarin had departed and Rupert was worrying about the exciting chase for the packet, which he foresaw would take place. However, as Olivia insisted, he should not risk his life again with Asiatics, he interested himself still in the case by talking it over with Major Tidman. On arriving at the Bristol, he was shown up at once to Tidman's room, and found the Major spick and span as usual, but greatly excited. "I was just coming up to see you," said the Major, "look here?" and he handed Rupert the morning's copy of the _Daily Telegraph_. Ainsleigh looked at the place indicated by the Major, and saw the advertisement asking for the return of the fan, on delivery of which the sum of five thousand would be paid. "I see that the Marquis has lost no time," said Rupert throwing down the paper, "he and Rodgers must have inserted the advertisement at once." "Oh," said the Major staring, "so you know." "Yes. Lo-Keong and Rogers were with me yesterday." "Lo-Keong. Why that is the man who owns the fan?" "Exactly. He is a Marquis, and high in the service of the Empress Dowager of China. As to the fan--" Rupert rapidly detailed how it had been found in the cloisters and related also the subsequent discovery, that the box attached to the chain in the tree trunk, was empty. "And the man who took the fan from Miss Wharf's dead body stole the packet," said Rupert, "so it is not likely he will risk arrest by coming forward to give the papers to Lo-Keong." Tidman sat down astounded at these revelations. "I wish I had been present," said he, "I was always curious about the fan's secret. A very ingenious device, Ainsleigh." "Very," assented Rupert dryly: then he cast a side-long look on the Major, and spoke to the point. "You had nothing to do with the stealing of the fan I hope, Major." "I," cried Tidman bouncing from his seat like an india rubber ball. "Well you see," went on Rupert, "we met on the beach after eleven, but it is just possible in spite of Forge's evidence, that Miss Wharf may have been killed before then." "And you believe that I killed her. Thank you Ainsleigh." "My good friend," rejoined the young man calmly, "Lo-Keong believes that Tung-yu broke his oath before the god, and strangled Miss Wharf. But I disagree with him, as Tung-yu could have procured the fan by milder means, the next day. Hwei could not have strangled the woman, as he was haunting the Abbey grounds to see if the packet was still safe. Forge, in a letter to my wife, insists that he never got the tie, and certainly did not kill Miss Wharf, so--" "So you have narrowed it down to me," cried Tidman in a burst of indignation, "it's too bad of you, Ainsleigh. I am not a thin skinned man by any means: but I do feel this very deeply. I swear," the Major flung up his hand dramatically, "I swear that I never possessed the tie, and I never killed Miss Wharf and I never took the fan and--" "That's all right," interrupted Rupert, "if you did not take the tie, you certainly could not have strangled the woman. After all, perhaps I have been too hard on you, Major." "Ah," said Tidman angrily, "you are prepared to take my word for it now, unsupported by other evidence. Your accusation can't be made seriously, Ainsleigh." "Well upon my soul," said Rupert passing his hand through his hair, "I really don't know what to think or say. This case seems to grow more mystical at every step. I admit that, as you deceived me at the time, we discussed the advertisement--" "You think I deceived you again. Well I did not. That was my one and only deception. I wanted the fan in order to procure money I admit: but the danger of being killed by Hwei instead of being rewarded by Tung-yu was too great. I dropped the matter." "Then who do you think is guilty?" "Clarence Burgh. Oh I am sure of it. He admits that Miss Pewsey told him the tie was in the overcoat pocket. No doubt he took it out and used it to incriminate you. Then again, Burgh learned from Tung-yu how the picture could be rendered visible--" "True enough," mused Rupert, "well, he might be guilty. And he certainly was in the cloisters one day--" "So as to examine the place," said the Major. "And afterwards, he came at night in the monk's disguise, knowing about the ghost and the legend. He was startled when he secured the packet and left the fan by accident on the black square." "Or by design" said Ainsleigh, "remembering the prophecy which says that 'gold will come from the holy ashes.' If I get this one hundred thousand pounds the prophecy will certainly be fulfilled, in a sort of way. It was indirectly owing to the fan that Lo-Keong told me of the money my father made in China, and through the fan, when the packet is restored, he intends to give the money to me." "Oh humbug," said the Major contemptuously "I don't believe in that foolish rhyme a bit. But are you of my opinion that Burgh is guilty?" "Yes--in the way you put it, it seems probable." "Well then," said Tidman angrily and striking the table with his fist. "I have had enough of being suspected, so I'll help you to hunt down the assassin. I _must_ know who killed Miss Wharf, or else you will be accusing me again. See here," and he threw a paper on the table. It was a square of yellow paper, strongly perfumed, which asked the Major to bring the fan to the den in Penter's Alley. "You showed me this before," said Rupert. "I went up on your behalf." "Look at the date," said Tidman pointing, "it's a new invitation. I think Tung-yu--who writes the letter--believes I killed the woman and have the fan after all. Well, last time, you went on my behalf, this time, danger or no danger I'll go myself. You can come if you like." "I shall certainly come," said Rupert jumping up, "Olivia does not want me to proceed further in this matter, but, now that you are going, I'll go too. Tung-yu can't know that the fan is in my hands, or that the packet is missing." "He's not so clever as I thought he was," said Tidman coolly, "or he wouldn't have bungled this affair as he has done. I am not afraid of him, now. But you see that the appointment is for to-morrow night at nine o'clock." "At Penter's Alley under the lantern. Exactly--the same place. But as Rodgers knows of my adventure, I wonder Tung-yu risks another meeting. Besides, Rodgers told me he had been to the den and found both Chinamen gone." "Oh, thunderbolts never strike in the same spot twice," said Tidman, "it is the safest place. Rodgers, having gone once, will not go again. Well, will you come?" "Yes," said Rupert, firmly and went back to the Abbey, to persuade his wife to let him make one more attempt to solve the mystery. Olivia was obdurate at first, but after a time, she yielded, though she assured Rupert she should be miserable all the time he was away. "And _do_ take care of yourself," she said. "Of course I'll take every care," replied her husband; and so it was arranged that Rupert should go up to town with Major Tidman by the six o'clock train the next evening, and proceed to Penter's Alley, to see Tung-yu, and learn--if possible, the truth. Olivia's attention was somewhat taken off the projected expedition to the wilds of Rotherhithe, by a visit from Lady Jabe. That eccentric female, looking more like a judge than ever, and dressed in a most manly fashion appeared, with a shining face, to announce that Chris was engaged to marry Lotty Dean. "It's most delightful," said Lady Jabe, "her father is merely a retired grocer, but I have consented to over-look that, if he settles some money on the young couple." "And has he consented?" asked Olivia languidly. She did not take much interest in the affairs of Mr. Walker. "Yes. Mr. Dean has allowed his daughter a thousand a year, paid quarterly," said Lady Jabe amiably, "and that, with what Chris earns at the office, will keep us nicely." "Us?" echoed Mrs. Ainsleigh smiling. "Certainly," was Lady Jabe's calm reply, "I have been a mother to Chris, and I intend to be a mother to Lotty. I shall look after the house, and control the purse, otherwise, the young pair may get into the bankruptcy court." Olivia privately thought that under Lady Jabe's care the young couple, would have a bad time, even though they might be free from bankruptcy. "What does Mr. Walker say?" "Oh Chris is delighted. He had better be. I'd like to see him cross me, dear Olivia. I've broken his spirit thoroughly. Lotty certainly is a trifle difficult, but I'll break her also by degrees." "I think you should leave Mr. and Mrs. Walker to manage their own affairs," said Olivia indignantly. "Oh dear me no," replied Lady Jabe calmly, "that would never do. A couple of babies, my dear Olivia, who need a firm hand. I'll look after them and receive a small sum for doing so. My late husband did not leave me well off," she went on confidentially, "so it is necessary that I should do the best for myself. But now, that's all settled and I'm glad you are pleased." "Not with your proposed arrangement, Lady Jabe." "Oh, yes you are, dear Olivia. Nothing could be better, whatever you may say. And now to talk of other and less pleasing matters. Miss Pewsey who robbed you of your inheritance, is about to leave Marport. Yes--you may look surprised: but she is selling Ivy Lodge and intends to go to America." "In search of the doctor?" asked Mrs. Ainsleigh doubtfully. "Quite so, I understand that Dr. Forge has gone there. But just think what a brazen women Miss Pewsey must be, to follow a man who left her--as you might say at the altar. Miss Pewsey is in London now making arrangements to sail for New York--so she told me yesterday. I wish her all joy," added Lady Jabe shaking her head, "but I fear the man will spend her money and leave her." When Lady Jabe went, Olivia thought over the projected departure of Miss Pewsey on the trail of Dr. Forge. She was glad at heart, that her enemy was leaving Marport, but could not help thinking that the bitter little women was going out of her way to make trouble, for herself. And as Forge was wanted, for participation in Markham Ainsleigh's murder, Olivia though she would inform her husband of his whereabouts, so that he might be brought back if necessary. But Rupert listened thoughtfully, and then replied after consideration. "I won't move in the matter," he said calmly, "Forge behaved like a scoundrel, but as he has gone, I leave him in God's hands. He will get his deserts yet, Olivia." "Will you send him the ten thousand pounds, Rupert?" "No," said the young man decisively. "I shall certainly not do that. Forge deserves some punishment and shall have it, by being deprived of the money he sinned to obtain. He did not kill my poor father, but he certainly brought about his death indirectly. Leave him to God, Olivia. As for ourselves, we will get our own money from Lo-Keong, and restore the Abbey." "And Miss Pewsey's mortgage?" "It is due shortly before Christmas, and I shall be able to pay it off before then. Miss Pewsey has done her worst, Olivia. Henceforth she will be harmless." "And what about her punishment, Rupert?" "I should think the loss of Forge has punished her. And, if she really intends to follow him, she will be more disappointed. The man will not marry her. No, Olivia, Miss Pewsey also sinned to get money, but she will be punished, you may be certain." The next evening Rupert again assumed his old suit and heavy cloak and went away. Olivia clung to him as he left the door. "Oh my darling be careful," she said, "if you are killed--" "I won't be," Rupert assured her. "I have taken the precaution to write telling Rodgers of this meeting. He will bring, by my advice, a couple of plaincloth policemen to Penter's Alley, and if there is trouble, both the Major and I will be able to get away." Comforted thus, Olivia kissed her husband, and saw him drive down the avenue. Then she returned to her room to count the moments, until he returned. All their troubles had brought Olivia and Rupert closer together, and in their implicit trust in one another, lay the elements of future happiness. Ainsleigh found the Major also plainly dressed, waiting at the station, and the two were speedily on their way to town. Owing to an accident to the train, they were late in arriving at Liverpool Street station and the Major fumed. "We won't be in time," he said when they went to the underground railway. "Oh, I think so," said Rupert calmly, "it's just as well, we should not be too early. I want Rodgers and his men to be on the spot." "But what do you think will come of all this?" asked Tidman, nervously. "I think we will find the papers." "But if Tung-yu had them, he would not have written to me." "He is playing some sort of game. I can't understand, and I have given up theorising. Let us wait." The Major grumbled a little, but finally agreed that Ainsleigh was right. They soon arrived at Rotherhithe, and stepped out into the main street. The night was fine, and there was a bright moon. "I like this better than when I was here last," said Rupert, as the two went down to Penter's Alley. "It's a good thing there's a moon," said the Major casting a glance upward, "if these Chinamen try to bolt, we can chase them." "Do you expect Hwei to be there also?" "I can't say," said Tidman, "but if Tung-yu is, I suspect Hwei won't be far off. They work in couples as you know." "And pull against each other like ill-matched dogs," said Rupert, "a queer compact, this." "It's silly. I think the Mandarin must be mad with all this rubbish about his gim-crack god Kwang-ho. Here we are--and there's the lantern. What a narrow street." They stepped down the Alley in the bright moonlight. The lantern flared above the same house as Rupert had entered before, and at the door stood a small figure. It was the Chinese boy dressed in red. "Ah," said Rupert significantly, "Hwei is certainly here, as well as Tung-yu. We'll have trouble." "If Hwei tries to kill me, I'll shoot," said the Major, and produced a neat revolver. "I've held my life in my hands before now." Rupert was about to speak to the boy who stood silently before the closed door, when he heard a long agonised scream within the house. The boy smiled in a cruel manner, and Rupert tried to dash past. But the boy prevented him. Tidman, however, was more fortunate and flung himself against the door. Evidently, a tragedy was taking place inside. As the Major ran forward, the door opened suddenly and Burgh dashed out and down the street, towards the river. After him came Tung-yu, his face alive with fury. Tidman gave a shout, and made after the two, but Rupert, wondering who was being killed, sprang down the passage and entered the room, where formerly he had met with the adventure. A tall Chinaman was standing in the middle of the floor wiping a knife on his blouse. He turned, and Rupert beheld Hwei. The Chinaman pointed to the floor with a ghastly smile. "The doom of the god Kwang-ho," said he, and ran out of the house swiftly. Rupert cast his eyes on a body lying on the floor. It was that of a woman and from her breast a stream of blood was flowing. She was not yet dead, but looked up with a pain-drawn face. Ainsleigh drew back with an exclamation. It was Miss Pewsey. CHAPTER XXIII THE CHASE Rupert stared at the wounded woman amazed. How came Miss Pewsey into this den? He was so astonished, that he forgot to call for assistance. Miss Pewsey gave a moan and opened her eyes. At once she recognised Ainsleigh, for the light from the tasselled lantern overhead, fell full on his amazed face. "So you are safe," said Miss Pewsey with difficulty, "didn't Tung-yu kill you." "I have just arrived," said Rupert, "your nephew has gone out followed by Tung-yu." "I hope he'll catch him," muttered Miss Pewsey, "Tung-yu stabbed me. Clarence snatched the papers and ran away leaving me here to die." "How did you get the papers?" asked Rupert startled. "I got them from Clarence--he asked me to come up here, and--oh," she fell back insensible. Rupert thought she was dead and forgetting where he was, cried loudly for assistance. He heard footsteps approaching and Lo-Keong in sober attired entered. The stately Chinaman was roused out of his usual self. He appeared disturbed and his face was distorted. "Rodgers and his men are chasing Tung-yu," said Lo-Keong grasping Rupert's arm, "go after them. Tung-yu has the papers." "But Miss Pewsey." Lo-Keong started back. "That woman," he cried, as startled as Rupert had been, "pooh, let her die. She deserves her fate. She has been the cause of the trouble. Go--go, Mr. Ainsleigh--go after Tung-yu." "But Miss Pewsey!" repeated Rupert, seeing the woman open her eyes, and recognising that life yet remained. "I'll see to her. I'll get a doctor." Lo-Keong struck the gong near the door. "But get me those papers. All my life depends upon them. Remember--one hundred thousand pounds--go--go. It may be too late. Don't allow Tung-yu to escape." Rupert was quite bewildered as the Chinaman pushed him out of the door. Then, recognising that he could do nothing to help Miss Pewsey, and that Lo-Keong, for his own sake would do all he could to keep her alive, so that he might learn how the packet came into her possession, Rupert ran out of the house, and found the street filled with screaming Chinamen and chattering Europeans. Some policemen were coming down the alley from the main thoroughfare, and everyone appeared to be alarmed. The ragged mob rushed into various doors, at the sight of the officers, but the Chinamen still continued to cackle and scream. Suddenly Rupert heard a revolver shot, and wondered if the Major had got into trouble. Remembering that Burgh, with Tung-yu in pursuit, had gone down the alley towards the water, he raced in the same direction, and at once, two policemen, seeing him go, followed. There was no time to undeceive them, so Rupert ran on, eager to come up with Burgh. He had the papers, according to Miss Pewsey, and in spite of Lo-Keong's statement, Ainsleigh suspected that Miss Pewsey was right. Else Tung-yu would not be in pursuit of the buccaneer. As Rupert tore down the moonlit alley, he heard the high clear voice of the Mandarin calling on the police to stop. Then the tumult recommenced. It mattered little to Ainsleigh. As he raced blindly on, he felt a thrill of joy in his veins. It seemed to him that he had never lived before, and that this man-hunt was the climax of life. At the end of the Alley he came on a dilapidated wharf, which ran out into the turbid water, and saw a stout figure dancing on this. At once he hurried down to find Major Tidman, who recognised him at once. "There was a boat waiting," gasped the Major seizing Rupert's arm. "Burgh jumped into it and pushed off. Tung-yu came after, and as the boat was already in mid-stream he plunged into the water." "Where is Hwei?" "Rodgers and his men are after him. I fired a shot, and I believe, I hit Tung-yu, as he was swimming. Who has the papers?" "Burgh. Keep a look out for him. I'll run along the bank," and before the Major could expostulate, Ainsleigh dashed up the wharf and ran along the bank of the river. He did this because his quick eye had seen a black head bobbing in the water below the wharf. The swimmer was evidently making for the near shore. Rupert did not know if it was Tung-yu or Hwei, but hurried at top speed along the bank, in the hope of catching the man when he came ashore. He sped along a kind of narrow way, for here the old houses of Rotherhithe came down, almost to the water's edge. There were lights in some of the windows, but for the most part, these were in darkness. To Rupert's left, loomed the house, and on his right was the river bank, shelving down to the glittering water. A few piles ran out into the stream, and as the river was low, there were acres of evil-smelling mud. The man was making for the bank and battling hard against the stream, which was sweeping him down. Rupert shouted, and seeing him on the bank, the swimmer seemed to stop, apparently dreading the reception he would get. Finally he resumed his stroke, and made for a wharf, some distance down. Ainsleigh ran for this, but was stopped by a wooden fence. He managed to climb over, and raced on to the wharf; but the swimmer was nowhere to be seen. Suddenly, Rupert caught sight of a figure crawling up the bank a little distance below, and again ran up the wharf to the pathway. The man who had landed caught sight of him, and leaping on to the hard path, ran along the river bank, but in a swaying manner, as though his powers of endurance were exhausted. Considering how hard he had battled with the current, probably the man's strength had given out and Rupert, feeling fresh and fit, thought he would have no difficulty in catching up. But the man ran hard, and then dropped out of sight below the bank. Apparently he had taken to the river again. Rupert raced down so quickly, as to overshoot the mark, where the man had slipped down. While looking round, he caught sight of him again. He ran up the bank and dodged into a narrow side street. Rupert was after him in a moment. The man had vanished round a corner--so Ainsleigh thought--but when Rupert came after, he saw the street in the moonlight was perfectly empty, and turned back. The fugitive had tricked him, by dodging into a dark corner, and was again on the bank. He leaped on the wharf, and scrambled down the piles to a boat which swung at the end of a long rope. While he hauled this in painfully, and pantingly, Rupert leaped on him. The man looked up with an oath, and closed with his pursuer. It was Burgh. "The papers--the papers," gasped Rupert, "you give them up." "I'll kill you first," said Burgh setting his teeth, and, exhausted as he was, he struggled with preternatural strength. The two men swung and swayed on the edge of the wharf, till Burgh tripped up his opponent and both fell into the water. Rupert still held his grip, and felt the body of Burgh grow heavy. He rose to the surface, dragging at the buccaneer, and, as the two had fallen into shallow water, Rupert staggered on to the evil-smelling mud. He was obliged to let go Burgh, who, apparently, had been playing possum, for he rose to his feet and made a feeble attempt to climb the bank. Seeing this, Rupert, who was almost exhausted himself with the long pursuit and the cold doûche, struck out, and Burgh, with a cry of rage fell flat into the mud. The next moment Rupert was kneeling on his chest. "The papers, you scoundrel," he said between his teeth. "Haven't got them. Tung-yu----" "You lie. Give me those papers, or I'll tear your clothes off to find them." Burgh tried to utter a taunting laugh, but the effort was too much for his strength. He stopped suddenly, and with a sob closed his eyes. The body became inert, and as Rupert could see no wound, he concluded that the buccaneer had fainted. At once he removed his knee, and began his search. He went deliberately through the pockets of the insensible man, and finally came across a packet bound in red brocade. It was in Burgh's breast, next to the skin. Rupert, with this in his hand, rose with a gasp of relief. He had the papers after all, and now, could hope to get the money from the Mandarin. He slipped the important packet into his pocket, and then producing a flask of brandy, he forced a few drops between the clenched teeth of his antagonist. He did not wish the man to die, and moreover, he was desirous of questioning him. In a few moments Burgh opened his eyes. "You," he said, as soon as he recovered his scattered senses, and he made an effort to rise. "No you don't," said Rupert pushing him back, "you'll try and reach for your revolver." "Go slow," muttered Burgh, lying on his back in the mud. "I give in, Ainsleigh. You've won." "I've got the papers, if that's what you mean. They shall be given to Lo-Keong." "And you'll get the five thousand." "I'll get one hundred thousand," said Rupert, keeping a watchful eye on his late opponent. "Huh," said Burgh with a groan, "what luck. And all I have got, is a ducking. Let me up and give me some more brandy. Remember, I saved your life from Forge, Ainsleigh." "Quite so, and you tried to kill me just now," said Rupert dryly. "I think we are quits. However, here's the brandy, and you can sit up. No treachery mind, or I'll shoot you," and Rupert pulled out his Derringer. The buccaneer gave a grunt and sat up with an effort. "I'm not up to a row," he gasped. "There's no fight left in me. Great Scott, to think I was so near success. I'll be poor for the rest of my life, I guess." "You'll be hanged for the murder of Miss Wharf, you mean." Burgh took a deep draught of the brandy, which put new life into his veins. He actually grinned when he took the flask from his lips. "I reckon that's not my end," said he. "I never killed the old girl. No sir--not such a flat." "Then who did kill her?" "Find out," was the ungracious response. "See here, Burgh," said Rupert, swinging himself on to a pile of the wharf. "I mean to get to the bottom of this business, once and for all. The papers shall be given to the Marquis and then, I hope, we shall hear the last of this fan business. But I must know who killed--" "There--there," said Burgh with a shrug, and after another drink, "I cave in: you've got the bulge on me. But I guess, if you want to keep those papers, you'd best clear out, Tung-yu will be along soon looking for them. I leaped into a boat and pushed out, but that Chinese devil swam after, and when I got into trouble with the oars, he climbed on board with a long knife. I jumped over-board and made for the bank, where you raced me down. But I guess Tung-yu will bring that craft of his ashore, and he's hunting for me like a dog as he is." "Rodgers, and Hwei, and Lo-Keong, and a lot of policemen are hunting for Tung-yu," said Rupert coolly, "so you need give yourself no further trouble. Tell me why you killed Miss Wharf?" "I didn't, confound you," growled Burgh. "Then you know who did?" "Yes--it was Forge." "That's a lie. Forge wrote to my wife, and denied that you gave him the tie." "Then Tidman killed the old girl." "No. He was with me on the beach. Come now, you shan't get off in this way. Tell me who is guilty?" "If I do, will you let me go?" "I make no bargains. Out with it." Burgh looked black, but being tired out and at the mercy of Rupert's revolver, he growled sulkily, "It was Aunt Lavinia." "Miss Pewsey--that frail little woman--impossible." "Frail," echoed the buccaneer with scorn, "she's as tough as hickory and as wicked a little devil as ever breathed. Why, she learned about the fan from Forge when he was delirious, and gave away the show to Lo-Keong in China--" "I know that. And she wished Olivia to have the fan, that she might be killed." "That's so, you bet. But old Wharf got it, and so, was killed." "But not by Tung-yu, or Hwei." "No." Burgh took a final drink, and having emptied the flask, flung it into the river. Then he took out a cigarette, which was dry enough to light. When smoking, he began to laugh. "Well this is a rum show," said he. "I guess you've got all the fun. I'm sold proper." "Tell me your story," said Rupert imperatively, "I want to get back to Penter's Alley to see your aunt." "Oh, I guess she's a goner by this time," said Burgh easily, "Tung-yu knifed her." "You mean Hwei. I found him wiping the knife." "No. Tung-yu stuck her, and dropped the knife. Aunty was just passing the packet to Hwei, when Tung-yu stabbed her. I reckon he intended to grab the packet, but I was too sharp for him, and caught it away from his hand. Then I raced out and he after me. Hwei stayed behind to clean the knife, I reckon." "No, he followed you two almost immediately." "Then both Chinamen will be here soon. You'd best cut." "Not till I learn the truth." "I've told you the truth," snapped Burgh, in a weary voice. "My old aunt strangled Miss Wharf. Yes. Aunty told me of the tie, and asked me to get it for her. I didn't know what she wanted to do with it, so I did. I took it out of your pocket when Dalham was out of the room. Then I gave it to aunty. She told Miss Wharf that Tung-yu wanted to see her on the steps, after eleven. Miss Wharf went there and then aunty followed and sat down beside her on the steps. I guess she kept her in talk and then slipped the tie round her old throat and pulled with all her might. And she's strong, I can tell you," added Clarence confidentially. "She nearly broke my arm one day twisting it. Miss Wharf hadn't time to call out, and was a deader in two minutes, for aunty froze on to her like death." "Death indeed," murmured Rupert with a shudder. "Well then aunty bucked up round by the front of the hotel with the fan in her pocket and left the tie round the neck of the old girl, so that _you_ might hang. All went well, but the next day I went to aunty and asked for the fan. She was very sick, as she intended to sell it that day to Tung-yu. But Tung-yu had cut along with Hwei in the yacht, both thinking they might be accused of the murder. They thought that old Tidman did the biznai," grinned Burgh, "and I let them think so, having my own game to play with aunty." "Well," said Ainsleigh shortly, "and what did you do?" "I told aunty I'd split if I didn't get the fan, so she passed it along to me. Then I learned about the secret from Tung-yu--the waving in the smoke you know. I found out the kind of smoke from Forge--" "And repaid him by a lying accusation." "That's so," said Burgh coolly, "there ain't no flies on me. But let's heave ahead. It's cold sitting here." "Go on then," said Ainsleigh sharply. "Well I learned about the picture, and guessed about the abbey. The picture was plain enough. I came that day you found me, to see the place." "And stole the packet then?" "No, I waited till night and rigged myself up as the Abbot. I knew it would make anyone sick who saw a monk about at that hour." "Not me," said Ainsleigh, "if I had caught you--" "Well you very nearly did," confessed Burgh candidly, "I came at night and climbed all four trees before I nipped the box. Then I prized it open and climbed down leaving the box, so that Lo-Keong might get sold when he came to look. Just as I got down, that old housekeeper of yours screeched, and cut. I was startled, and dropped the fan. Not wishing to leave that behind, I began to look for it. Then you and the butler turned up and I lighted out sharp." "What happened next?" "Well I wanted the money, but not knowing the days of Hwei and Tung-yu, thought I might get stabbed, instead of the money. So I took the packet to Aunty, and asked her to go up, telling her Tung-yu would give her the money. She fell into the trap." "But she knew that Hwei--" "It wasn't Hwei's day," said Burgh, "at least it turned out so, though I didn't know it at the time, and so sent on Aunty to get the cash. I intended to pull the dollars out of her when she did get them, or leave her to die if Hwei knifed her." "You blackguard." "Go slow," said Burgh coolly, "aunty was no friend to you. I say, do you know why aunty wanted me to marry Olivia. It was because I'm married already and if--" He got no further. Rupert knocked him backwards into the mud. Burgh leaped to his feet, and suddenly cried, "Look behind." Rupert did so very foolishly, and Burgh flung himself forward. But all the same Burgh was right to warn Ainsleigh. A man was staggering along the wharf. He was in Chinese dress. "Knife him, Tung-yu," cried Burgh, struggling with Rupert, "I'll hold him. He's got the papers." The Chinaman gave a screech and hurled himself on the pair. Rupert wrenched himself away from Burgh and struck out at Tung-yu. At the same moment he heard another cry, and Hwei came leaping down the wharf. Before Tung-yu could turn, his enemy was on him, and as Rupert was again closing in death grips with Burgh, he had no time to see what was taking place. He could hear the Chinamen snarling like angry cats on the wharf, and was himself fighting in the mud with Burgh for his life. Luckily Rupert got his hand free and it was the one which held the revolver. He fired at random--three shots. There was a shout in the distance: but at that moment, the buccaneer seized him by the throat and threw him down. Rupert with a strangled cry felt himself being forced beneath the water, and thought the end had come. He could hear the struggle between Hwei and Tung-yu going on furiously, and hear also very faintly the deep laughter of his opponent. Then he lost consciousness. Everything became dark, and Rupert's last thought was that all his pains had been in vain. He would die, and Olivia would be a widow. CHAPTER XXIV THE FULFILLED PROPHECY When Rupert came to his senses, the surroundings seemed to be familiar. He had lost consciousness on the banks of the Thames, and during a fierce struggle with a treacherous foe. He opened his eyes to find himself in his own bed in his own room at Royabay. But he felt strangely weak and indisposed to talk. After a glance, he closed his eyes again. Then, after what seemed to him to be a few minutes--it was really half an hour--he opened them again, and this time he saw Olivia bending over him with an anxious face. "Dearest," he murmured weakly. "Oh Rupert, do you know me?" "Yes. Where am I--what are you doing here?" "You are at the Abbey. Don't speak. Take this," and some beef tea was held to his dry lips. Ainsleigh drank a little and then fell asleep again. When he did so there was an artificial light in the room, but when he woke the sun was streaming in through the window. But his wife was still beside his bed, and still looked anxious. However, she gave a little cry of joy when Rupert spoke in a stronger voice. He was beginning to collect his scattered senses. "Have I been ill long?" he asked. "Four days," she replied, "don't talk, darling." "But the packet?" "The Marquis has it safe." "Burgh?" "He has escaped. Don't talk." "Miss Pewsey," said Rupert faintly. "She is dead." "Then Miss Pewsey _did_ strangle your aunt." "Yes--yes--the doctor says you are not to talk." "Just one more question. Those Chinamen?" "Hwei and Tung-yu. They were drowned." Rupert smiled weakly, and turning on his side went off into a deep sleep. The doctor who called later, said it was the best thing he could do. "He has had a severe shock," said he to Olivia, "and his nervous system is shaken. You may be thankful he did not wake with a disordered brain." "Oh, doctor, you don't think--" "No! No! It's all right. He would not have asked those questions if anything was wrong with his mind. In a few weeks he will be quite himself. But I think, Mrs. Ainsleigh, that you should take him abroad for a time." Olivia gladly promised to do this, the more so, as she wanted to escape herself from Marport for a time. The news of Miss Pewsey's death had caused a great sensation, and a still greater one was caused by the publication in the paper of her crime. Everyone, now knew that the bitter little woman had strangled Miss Wharf, and everyone was very severe on her. The funeral had to be conducted quietly, as the mob showed signs of intending to interrupt. However, the police kept back the irate crowd, and Miss Pewsey was buried in a quiet corner of St. Peter's church-yard, where a few weeks before, she had hoped to be married. But her intended bridegroom was in America, and Miss Pewsey's mortal part was in the grave. Where her immortal soul was and what would become of it, was talked over by people, who were less forgiving than they ought to have been. Ainsleigh recovered his strength quicker then the doctor thought he would. Olivia nursed him with devoted tenderness, and often wept as she thought how nearly she had lost him. When Rupert was better able to hear the recital, she gave him a short account of his rescue. "Those three shots you fired brought up Rodgers and his men, who were searching for Hwei and Tung-yu. They came, just in time to pull Mr. Burgh off you. He was holding you down under the water, and Mr. Rodgers thought you were dead. However the doctor was called, and they brought you round. Then I was telegraphed for, and I insisted that you should be taken back to Royabay. I had my way, although the doctor in London said it would be dangerous. So here you are, darling, in your own home, and soon will be all right." "Thanks to your nursing," said Ainsleigh, kissing her, "but Olivia, tell me about Miss Pewsey." "She made a confession before she died," said Mrs. Ainsleigh, "oh Rupert, even though she is dead, I can't help saying, that she was a wicked little woman." "Wicked indeed," said Rupert, recalling what Burgh had said, "she wished you to marry Burgh, because he was married already." "In which case he would have deserted me," said Mrs. Ainsleigh with a crimson face, "he was as bad as she. But listen, Rupert, if you feel strong enough." "Go on," said Ainsleigh, and held his wife's hand while she talked. "Well, then," began Mrs. Ainsleigh, "after the Marquis pushed you out of the Penter's Alley room, he went and got a doctor, who said that Miss Pewsey was dying. She heard him, having regained her senses, and then began to cry, saying how wicked she had been. For the sake of everyone, Lo-Keong asked her to make a confession. As soon as she knew there was no hope of her recovery, she agreed to do so. A clergyman was called in, and he took down what she said. The confession was witnessed and signed, and Mr. Rodgers has it." "What did she confess?" asked Rupert. "Oh," Olivia covered her face, "it was really awful. She said that she was always jealous of Aunt Sophia, and of me. She wished to get the five hundred a year. At first she thought she would get it by marrying me to her nephew, and then she could finger the money, when my aunt died. But she soon saw that I was not to be guided in the way she desired, and cast about for a new plan." "But, Olivia, if she knew Burgh was married--" "Oh, that didn't matter to her. She intended he should marry me and then if I got the money she intended to say there was no marriage, unless I gave her the five hundred a year. She wished to disgrace me. "A kind of blackmail, in fact." "Yes. But I can't understand, how she intended to reckon with Mr. Burgh, who is not an easy person to deal with. Well Rupert, when she found that I would not marry Mr. Burgh, she tried to get a new will made. She did not succeed for a long time. Meanwhile, she heard about the fan and wrote to Lo-Keong. When she saw the advertisement she was alarmed, thinking Aunt Sophia would be killed before the new will was made. Luckily for her, she overheard about our secret marriage and told Aunt Sophia, who made a new will, and who intended, after the ball, to turn me out of the house." "But your aunt was so kind to you at that time." "So as to make things harder for me," said Olivia sadly, "poor Aunt Sophia, she was quite under the thumb of Miss Pewsey, who really did hypnotise her--at least she confessed she had power over her in the confession. But I don't think it was difficult to get Aunt Sophia to alter her will, seeing she hated you so, and could not bear to think that the five hundred a year, should go to the son of the man, she thought, had scorned her." "That was not true: my father--" "Yes! Yes! I know. Don't talk too much, Rupert you are weak yet. But let me go on," added Olivia, passing her hand over her husband's forehead. "Well then, when the new will was made, Miss Pewsey let Tung-yu know that Aunt Sophia would have the fan at the ball. She didn't know whether Tung-yu or Hwei was to kill the possessor of the fan, and when she learned that Aunt Sophia was to sell the fan next day, she was very angry." "Why. With her influence she could have got the money." "Not all to herself, and besides she wanted the five hundred a year, and Aunt Sophia out of the way. Moreover, that scarf I knitted for you gave her a chance of throwing the blame on you. She got Clarence to get it, and then lured Miss Wharf--my aunt--to the steps where she strangled her." "Yes. Burgh told me. I know the rest. Her nephew made her give up the fan, learned the secret, and stole the packet. Then he made his aunt take it to Penter's Alley." Olivia nodded. "And Miss Pewsey thought she would get the money, as Burgh said it was Tung-yu's hour." "So it was. He spoke truly enough, although he didn't risk giving up the packet himself. Well." "But Tung-yu killed Miss Pewsey after all. She asked twenty thousand pounds and refused to give it for less. Clarence Burgh who had come up with her, came into the room with Hwei, who saw the packet pass, but could not interfere." "Because it wasn't his hour." "Yes. And all would have been well, had not Tung-yu suddenly disobeyed the god Kwang-ho's commands and stabbed Miss Pewsey. Of course, Hwei was released from his oath by this act and tried to get the packet. But Clarence Burgh snatched it from both and ran away. Tung-yu went after him, and then Hwei followed, after wiping the knife. Then--" "I know the rest. I got the packet from Burgh." "Yes, and he tried to drown you. Hwei and Tung-yu were struggling together, as Tung-yu wanted to get the packet from you. But Hwei stabbed him with the same knife he had used to kill Miss Pewsey, and in his death grip, Tung-yu drew Hwei into the water. Both were dead and still locked in each other's embrace when they were drawn out. Lo-Keong said that Tung-yu deserved his doom for having trifled with Kwang-ho, but he mourns for Hwei." "It seems to be much of a muchness," said Rupert, "and Burgh?" "Rodgers threw himself on him, and he was secured. You were taken away, and I was telegraphed for. But while Burgh was being taken to prison he contrived to escape, and got away in the darkness." "But Olivia, it was a bright, moonlight night." "At first it was, but the moon set and darkness came on. The police have been searching for Burgh, but he has not been found, and it is supposed he has got away from England." "I hope so," said Rupert with a shudder. "I never wish to set eyes on him again. So that's the end of it all." "Not quite. Lo-Keong is in the library with Mr. Asher. Oh, Rupert, you must prepare yourself for the best of news." The young man rose, and was led downstairs by his wife, "I am quite ready to hear the good news," he said, as they descended. "I have had far too much bad news in my life." As Olivia said, the lawyer was waiting in the library, and stood before the fire with an expectant face. Lo-Keong, in even more gorgeous robes than he had worn on the occasion of his first visit, was seated in his stately manner near the window. He rose as the master of Royabay entered, and came forward with a serious smile. "My young friend," said the Mandarin. "I have to thank you for saving my life. The papers which would have ruined me, and which would have cost me my head, have been burnt. Hwei is dead, and Tung-yu; so no one but yourself knows what those papers meant. My august mistress will never have proof that I was engaged in the Boxer rebellion, and Hop Sing will be degraded for ever." "And you, Marquis?" "I shall receive the yellow jacket," said the Mandarin, proudly, "now I remain but a short time here. I go to London in an hour, and this evening I leave for the Continent on my way to China. We shall never meet again Mr. Ainsleigh, unless you come to Pekin." "No," said Olivia, instinctively protecting Rupert, "we have had enough of China, Marquis. Sit down, Rupert." Ainsleigh took a chair, and the Marquis smiled blandly. "Well, well, well," he said, "it is natural you should feel rather nervous of my countrymen, though I assure you, if you do visit me, that you will be quite safe and highly honoured." "No, thank you Marquis," said Rupert wearily, for he was beginning to feel fatigued. "I see you are tired," said Lo-Keong, in his stately manner, "so I will merely say I hope to send you some presents from my own country, and then Mr. Asher can speak," he bowed to the solicitor. "I am glad to tell Mr. Ainsleigh," said the lawyer, "that the Marquis has handed me securities which show that the sum of one hundred thousand pounds is invested in your name. We can transfer the securities to English investments if you like but--" "I'll leave them in Chinese," said Rupert quickly. Lo-Keong bowed in a gratified manner. "You will be wise," he said, "they are safe investments and all my interest at the Imperial court, will go to make you richer, if I can." "You have done enough, Marquis," said Ainsleigh gratefully, "you have given me back my old home." "And we will be rich besides," said Olivia delightedly. "There's another thing," said Mr. Asher, looking at the girl, "Miss Pewsey made a will in your favour, Mrs. Ainsleigh." Olivia drew back with a red face. "Impossible! She hated me." "Well," said Asher dryly, "I expect she repented of her evil deeds, or perhaps she hated her nephew more than she did you. That gentleman wrote from a Continental address to Mr. Paster asking if his aunt had left him the money as she promised. I expect the address is a false one, as Mr. Burgh won't wish to be caught." "He is a bold man that," said Lo-Keong. "He is," assented Asher, "but he won't benefit. Mrs. Ainsleigh gets the five hundred a year, the freehold of Ivy Lodge, and also the mortgage which Miss Wharf bought to ruin Mr. Ainsleigh." "We have everything--everything," cried Olivia. "I am very thankful," said Rupert. "Mr. Asher--" "I'll see you about the investments when you are stronger," said the lawyer, "meanwhile here is the carriage at the door. The Marquis is kind enough to give me a lift," and Mr. Asher took his leave, with a profound bow, to so opulent a client as Rupert. The Marquis Lo-Keong came forward with his kind smile. "Before I wish you good-bye and all happiness," he said, holding out the famous fan, "will you take this?" "No," said Olivia, preventing Rupert from accepting it, "I hate the very sight of the thing. It has blood on it." "I think you are right, Mrs. Ainsleigh," said the Chinaman gravely, "and, as it has done its duty, it may as well go the way of the packet which now is ashes," and advancing to the fire, he flung the fan on the burning coals. It burst into a blaze, and in a few minutes all had vanished save the slivers of jade and the beads. The housemaid collected these next morning and gave them to Olivia, who threw them off the Marport pier. So that was the end of the Mandarin's fan. "And now," said Lo-Keong, bowing, "good-bye, and great happiness to you both." Rupert and Olivia shook hands warmly, and thanked him heartily. The Mandarin walked out of the room in his stately way, and they went to the window to see him drive off. At the bend of the avenue, he waved his hand graciously, and that was the last the master and mistress of Royabay saw of the man who had owned the fan. A chuckle at the door made the couple turn from the window. There, peering in, stood Mrs. Petley, who had stuck with her husband to Rupert during his troubles. Her face was shining, and old John seemed to be years younger. Mrs. Petley, for some queer reason, threw a shoe at the pair. "Health and happiness," she said, "begging your pardons both. But to think of money and happiness, and no walking of that blessed monk, who--" "He never walked," said Rupert smiling, "it was Hwei--" "Begging your pardon, sir, Hwei--whosoever he is, didn't walk _all_ the time. Abbot Raoul did appear, as I can testify, and so can John here. But now the prophecy has been fulfilled, perhaps he'll rest quiet in his grave, drat him." "The prophecy?" said Olivia, who was holding her husband's hand. From behind Mrs. Petley came the quavering voice of the ancient butler, declaiming the rude rhymes:-- "My curse from the tyrants will never depart, For a sword in the hands of the angel flashes: Till Ainsleigh poor, weds the poor maid of his heart, And gold be brought forth from the holy ashes." "And that's quite true," said a jovial voice, and Major Tidman, as smart and stout as ever, entered. "How do, Ainsleigh, I'm glad to see you looking so well. Yes," he added, sitting down, "you _were_ poor Ainsleigh when you married--" "And I was poor also," cried Olivia. "Very good, the third line is fulfilled and the fourth--" "Was gold brought forth from the holy ashes?" asked Rupert. "Yes, Master Rupert," said old John, "you picked up the fan in the place where the ashes were, and out of the fan has come gold. The prophecy is fulfilled, sure enough, and I hope Abbot Raoul will stop walking for ever." "Of course he will," cried Mrs. Petley, dragging her husband outside, "there's no more trouble for you, Master Rupert and Miss Olivia." "Mr. and Mrs. Ainsleigh, of Royabay," said Tidman, laughing, "give them their proper titles, Mrs. Petley. And I think the present occasion deserves a bottle of port." The ancient butler went away with his wife, to bring forth one of the last bottles of that priceless vintage. Major Tidman, gloating in anticipation, sat still, and smiled with a bland face. But Rupert drew Olivia to the sofa, and they sat down where they had often mourned on many a weary day. "Dearest," said Ainsleigh, kissing her. "We can be happy now," said Olivia putting her arms round his neck, "for we are rich. We shall take again our proper place in the county." "We are rich and we are happy," echoed the master of Royabay. "Ha! ha! You have one hundred thousand pounds, Ainsleigh," said Tidman. "I have something better." "What's that?" "My own dear wife, Olivia Ainsleigh." THE END _The Anchor Press, Ltd., Tiptree Heath, Kelvedon, Essex._ Major Transcriber Changes: In the Table of Contents, Chapter IX was originally listed as Chapter XIV. On page 8, [arm-chair."] was changed to [arm-chair.]. On page 39, [artficial] was changed to [artificial]. On page 40, [that her own] was changed to [than her own]. On page 54, [annouced] was changed to [announced]. On page 56, [pinting] was changed to [pointing]. On page 95, [Ansliegh] was changed to [Ainsleigh]. On page 119, [roem] was changed to [room]. On page 130, [ubiquitious] was changed to [ubiquitous]. On page 138, [the walking of of] was changed to [the walking of]. On page 153, [propably] was changed to [probably]. On page 155, [Tung-yu aud Hwei] was changed to [Tung-yu and Hwei]. On page 172, [neice] was changed to [niece]. On page 175, [he he] was changed to [he]. On page 176, [It was it] was changed to [It was]. On page 188, [longside] was changed to [alongside]. On page 204, [reath] was changed to [breath]. On page 212, [gavorted] was changed to [cavorted]. On page 214, [tie o] was changed to [tie to]. On page 220, this chapter was mistakenly labelled [CHAPTER XVII], which was changed to the correct version, [CHAPTER XVIII]. On page 223, [prefume] was changed to [perfume]. On page 231, [too and fro] was changed to [to and fro]. On page 238, [declines] was changed to [declares]. Standardized terms included: joss-stick, joss-house, Markham, Penter's, foreclose, attendant, Hwei, Pewsey, calligraphy, Tidman, Dr., and t'was. All uses of these terms were changed to the dominant spelling. Non-ASCII corrections made by transcriber: On the page of ads, Athenaeum was spelled with an ae ligature. On page 66, pate-de-foi-gras was spelled with an accent on the first "e". On page 246, devotee was spelled with an accent on the second "e". On page 292, douche was spelled with an circumflex over the "u". 
21299	----	Blue Jackets; or, The Log of the Teaser, by George Manville Fenn. ________________________________________________________________________ Another very exciting nautical novel by this author, who is a master of suspense. HMS Teaser, a clipper-gunboat, is patrolling the China Seas on the lookout for pirates. At the time of the story she has proceeded up the Nyho river, and is at anchor off the city of Nyho. The teller of the story is one of three young midshipmen, Nathaniel Herrick. A most important character is Ching, the Chinese interpreter, who would love to be much more important than he is. The boys and Ching find themselves in various situations which look pretty terrifying at the time, but the author manages to slip them out of these situations just in the nick of time. One particularly well-drawn scene is where the boys beg Ching to take them to a Chinese theatre, and he decides upon something that he thinks will really interest them. Unfortunately it is a public beheading of some pirates whom the Teaser has brought to justice, but the boys do not enjoy the scene. They realise that if they tried to walk out they would most probably be beheaded themselves, so they have to sit tight. It's a full-length novel with a great deal of suspense, so there's plenty to enjoy here. NH ________________________________________________________________________ BLUE JACKETS; OR, THE LOG OF THE TEASER, BY GEORGE MANVILLE FENN. CHAPTER ONE. WE JOLLY SAILOR BOYS. "Come along, boys; look sharp! Here's old Dishy coming." "Hang old Dishipline; he's always coming when he isn't wanted. Tumble over." We three lads, midshipmen on board HM clipper gunboat the _Teaser_, did "tumble over"--in other words, made our way down into the boat alongside--but not so quickly that the first lieutenant, Mr Reardon, who, from his slightly Hibernian pronunciation of the word discipline and constant references thereto had earned for himself among us the sobriquet of "Dishy," did catch sight of us, come to the gangway and look down just as Double B had given the order to shove off, and was settling the strap of the large telescope he carried over his shoulder. I ought to tell you our names, though, in order of seniority; and it will make matters more easy in this log if I add our second handles or nicknames, for it was a habit among us that if a fellow could by any possibility be furnished with an alias, that furnishing took place. For instance, Bruce Barkins always went by the name of "Double B," when, in allusion to the Bark in his family name, he was not called the "Little Tanner," or "Tanner" alone; Harry Smith, being a swarthy, dark-haired fellow, was "Blacksmith;" and I, Nathaniel Herrick, was dubbed the first day "Poet"--I, who had never made a line in my life-- and later on, as I was rather diminutive, the "Gnat." One can't start fair upon any voyage without preparations, so I must put in another word or two to tell you that there were two logs kept on board the good ship _Teaser_--one by the chief officer, and in which the captain often put down his opinion. This is not that, but my own private log; and I'm afraid that if the skipper or Lieutenant Reardon had ever seen it he would have had a few words of a sort to say to me-- words which I would rather not have heard. It was a gloriously fine morning. We had been dodging about the coast on and off for a month on the look-out for piratical junks and lorchas, had found none, and were now lying at anchor in the mouth of the Nyho river, opposite the busy city of that name. Lastly, we three had leave to go ashore for the day, and were just off when the first lieutenant came and stood in the gangway, just as I have said, and the Tanner had told the coxswain to shove off. "Stop!" cried our tyrant loudly; and the oars which were being dropped into the pea-soupy water were tossed up again and held in a row. "Oh my!" groaned Barkins. "Eh?" cried the first lieutenant sharply. "What say?" and he looked hard at me. "I didn't speak, sir." "Oh, I thought you did. Well, young gentlemen, you are going ashore for the day. Not by my wish, I can assure you." "No, sir," said Smith, and he received a furious look. "Was that meant for impertinence, sir?" "I beg pardon, sir; no, sir." "Oh, I'm very glad it was not. I was saying it was not by my wish that you are going ashore, for I think you would be all better employed in your cabin studying navigation." "Haven't had a holiday for months, sir," said Barkins, in a tone of remonstrance. "Well, sir, what of that? Neither have I. Do you suppose that the discipline of Her Majesty's ships is to be kept up by officers thinking of nothing else but holidays? Now, listen to me--As you are going-- recollect that you are officers and gentlemen, and that it is your duty to bear yourselves so as to secure respect from the Chinese inhabitants of the town." "Yes, sir," we said in chorus. "You will be very careful not to get into any scrapes." "Of course, sir." "And you will bear in mind that you are only barbarians--" "And foreign devils, sir." "Thank you, Mr Smith," said the lieutenant sarcastically. "You need not take the words out of my mouth. I was going to say foreign devils--" "I beg pardon, sir." "--In the eyes of these self-satisfied, almond-eyed Celestials. They would only be too glad of an excuse to mob you or to declare that you had insulted them, so be careful." "Certainly, sir." "Perhaps you had better not visit their temples." Smith kicked me. "Or their public buildings." Barkins trod on my toe. "In short, I should be extremely guarded; and I think, on further consideration, I will go to the captain and suggest that you have half-a-dozen marines with you." "Captain's ashore, sir." "Thank you, Mr Herrick. You need not be so fond of correcting me." I made a deprecatory gesture. "I should have remembered directly that Captain Thwaites was ashore." "Beg pardon, sir," said Barkins, touching his cap. "Well, Mr Barkins." "I hope you will not send any marines with us." "And pray why, sir?" "We should have to be looking after them, sir, as much as they would be looking after us." "Mr Barkins, allow me to assure you, sir, that the dishipline of the marines on board this ship is above reproach." "Yes, sir. Of course, sir. I only thought that, after being on board the ship so long, sir, they might be tempted, sir." "I hope that the men of Her Majesty's gunboat _Teaser_ are above all temptations, Mr Barkins," said the lieutenant harshly. "There, upon second thoughts, I will not send a guard. You can go." The oars dropped with a splash on either side, and away we went among the hundreds of native boats of all kinds going up and down the river, and onward toward the crowded city, with its pagodas, towers, and ornamental gateways glittering in the morning sunshine, and looking wonderfully attractive to us prisoners, out for the day. "Don't speak aloud," I whispered to Smith, who was gathering himself up for an oration respecting the first lieutenant's tyranny. "Why not?" "Because the men are listening, and one of 'em may report what you say." "He'd better," said Smith defiantly. "I'm not afraid to speak. It was all out of his niggling meddlesomeness, so as to show off before the men." But all the same he spoke in a low voice that could only be heard by our companion who held the lines. "There, never mind all that bother," cried Barkins. "I say, how would you like to live in one of those house-boats?" "I call it pretty good cheek of the pigtailed humbugs to set up house-boats," cried Smith. "They imitate us in everything." "And we don't imitate them in anything, eh?" said Barkins. "Hi! look out, old Chin-chin, or we shall run you down," he shouted to a man in a sampan. "My! what a hat!" cried Smith. "Why, it would do for an umbrella. Port, Barkins." "All right; I won't sink him. Pull away, my lads." "I say," I cried, as we rowed by an enormous junk, with high poop and stern painted with scarlet and gold dragons, whose eyes served for hawseholes; "think she's a pirate?" "No," said Barkins, giving a look up at the clumsy rig, with the huge matting-sails; "it's a tea-boat." As she glided away from us, with her crew collected astern, to climb up and watch us, grinning and making derisive gestures, Barkins suddenly swung round the telescope, slipped the strap over his head, adjusted it to the proper focus, as marked by a line scratched with the point of a penknife, and raised it to his eye, when, to my astonishment, I saw all the Chinamen drop down out of sight. "Yes, she's a tea-boat," said Double B decisively, "and heavily laden. I wish she had pirates on board." "Why?" cried Smith. "They'd kill all the crew." "And then we should kill them, make a prize of the junk, and have a lot of tin to share. Bother this glass, though! I wish I hadn't brought it." "Why?" said Smith; "we shall have some good views from up yonder, when we get to the hills at the back of the town." "Ain't got there yet. It's so heavy and clumsy, and the sun's going to be a scorcher." "I'll carry it, Tanner," I said. "You shall, my boy," he cried, as he closed it up, and rapidly slipped the strap off his shoulder again. "Catch hold. Mind, if you lose it, I value it at a hundred pounds." "Say five while you're about it, Tanner," cried Smith. "Why, it isn't worth twopence--I mean I wouldn't give you a dollar for it. But I say, my lads, look here, what are we going to do first?" continued Smith, who was in a high state of excitement, though I was as bad. "Start off at once for a walk through the city?" "Shouldn't we be mobbed?" I said, as I slung the heavy glass over my shoulder. "They'd better mob us!" cried Smith. "If they give me any of their nonsense, I'll take tails instead of scalps. My! what fools they do look, with their thick-soled shoes, long blue gowns, and shaven heads!" "That fellow in the boat is grinning at us, and thinks we look fools, I said." "Let him!" said Barkins. "We know better." "But what are we going to do?" I said. "I hate being in a crowd." "Oh, they won't crowd us," said Barkins contemptuously. "Here, hi! you sir; mind where you're going. There, I thought you'd do it!" This was to a young Chinaman, in a boat something like a Venetian gondola, which he was propelling by one oar as he stood up in the bows watching us, and was rowing one moment, the next performing a somersault in the air before plunging into the water between the port oars of our boat with a tremendous splash. I did not say anything, thinking that it was a case of running up against a man, and then crying, "Where are you shoving to?" but leaned over the side, and caught at the first thing I saw, which happened to be the long black plaited pigtail, and, hauling upon it, the yellow, frightened face appeared, two wet hands clutched my arm, and, amidst a tremendous outburst of shouting in a highly-pitched tone, boats crowded round us, and the man was restored to his sampan, which was very little damaged by the blow inflicted by our stem. "Give way, my lads," cried Barkins, and we rowed on towards the landing-place, followed by a furious yelling; men shaking their fists, and making signs suggestive of how they would like to serve us if they had us there. "I'm sorry you knocked him over," I said. "Who knocked him over, stupid?" cried Barkins. "Why, he ran right across our bows. Oh, never mind him! I daresay he wanted washing. I don't care. Of course, I shouldn't have liked it if he had been drowned." Ten minutes later we were close in to the wharf, and Smith exclaimed-- "I say, why don't we get that interpreter chap to take us all round the place?" "Don't know where he lives," said Barkins, "or it wouldn't be a bad plan." "I know," I cried. "How do you know?" "He showed me when he was on board, through the little glass he wanted to sell you." "Why, you couldn't see through that cheap thing, could you?" "Yes, quite plain. It's just there, close to the warehouses, with a signboard out." "So it is," cried Smith, shading his eyes; and he read aloud from a red board with gilt letters thereon-- Ching Englis' spoken Interpret Fancee shop Just then the boat glided up against the wood piles; we sprang out on to the wharf, ordered the men back, and stood for two minutes watching them well on their return for fear of any evasions, and then found ourselves in the midst of a dense crowd of the lower-class Chinese, in their blue cotton blouses and trousers, thick white-soled shoes, and every man with his long black pigtail hanging down between his shoulders. These men seemed to look upon us as a kind of exhibition, as they pressed upon us in a semicircle; and I was beginning to think that we should end by being thrust off into the water, when there was a burst of angry shouting, a pair of arms began to swing about, and the owner of the "fancee shop," whose acquaintance we had made on board, forced his way to our side, turned his back upon us, and uttered, a few words which had the effect of making the crowd shrink back a little. Then turning to us, he began, in his highly-pitched inquiring tone--"You wantee Ching? You wantee eat, dlink, smoke? Ching talkee muchee Englis'. Come 'long! hip, hip, hoolay!" CHAPTER TWO. A PIECE OF CHINA. Ching flourished his arms to right and left, forming a lane for us to pass along, and we followed him for the few dozen yards between the landing-place and his place of business; but it was like passing through so much human sand, which flowed in again behind us, and as soon as we were in the shelter of the lightly-built bamboo place, crowded round the door to stare in. But Ching had regularly taken us under his protection, and, stepping into the doorway, he delivered himself of a furious harangue, which grew louder and louder, and ended by his banging to the door and fastening it; after which he turned to us with his little black eyes twinkling, and crying-- "Allee light. Ching light man light place." We all laughed, of course, and the Chinaman joined in. Then, growing serious directly, he looked from one to the other. "You likee dlink?" "No, no, not yet," cried Barkins. "No likee dlink?" said the Chinaman wonderingly; and then in a voice full of reproof, "Sailor boy likee dlink." "Oh yes, by and by," cried Smith. "Ah, you wantee buy fan, shawl, ivoly? Fancee shop." "No, no, we don't want to buy anything now," cried Barkins. "We'll pay you--" "Allee light," cried the man, brightening up, for he had looked disappointed, and he held out both hands for the promised pay. "Oh, come, wait a bit," I said. "We want you to take us and show us the shops." "No, no. Shop no good. Bess shop--fancee shop, Ching." "Oh yes; but we want to see the others too, and the streets." "Stleet allee full dust--allee full mud. No good." "Never mind," said Barkins; "we want to see them, and the temples and mandarins' houses." "Pliest shut up temple. Want muchee money. Mandalin call soldier man muchee, put all in plison. No good." "They'd better," cried Smith; "why, the captain would blow all the place down with his big guns." "No blow Ching fancee shop down. Englis' spoken. Good fliend." "Look here, Ching. Shut up shop, and come and take us all round the town to see everything, and we'll each give you a dollar." "Thlee dollar?" cried the man, holding his head on one side, and raising three fingers. "Yes," we cried, and once more his hand went out. "What can't you trust us?" cried Smith. "No tlust. All pay leady money. Go 'board. Fo'get." "Oh no, we shan't," I cried. "And look here, Ching, after we've been round the town we want to go to the theatre." "'Top flee day to go to fleatre?" he said. "Three days! no. We must be back on board at sundown." "No go fleatre--no time." "Never mind the theatre, then," cried Barkins. "Now then, off we go. And I say, boys, let's have something to eat first." "Wantee something eatee?" cried Ching, making for a canister upon a shelf. "No, no," cried Smith, "not that. We want a good dinner. Do you know what a restaurant is?" "Lestaulant?" The Chinaman shook his head. "Wantee good din': eat muchee soup, fis', cakee?" "Yes, that's right; come along." The yellow-faced man went softly to the door and listened, while we glanced round at the collection of common Chinese curios, carvings, lanterns, sunshades, stuffed birds, bits of silk, and cane baskets which filled the place, till he came back to us with a cunning look, and his eyes twinkling, as Smith said, "like two currants in a penny bun." "Too muchee men all wait," he whispered. "No talkee talkee;" and, making a gesture to us to be very silent, he led us through the back of his shop into a smaller room, closed and fastened the door, and then led us through another into a kind of yard full of boxes and old tea-chests, surrounded by a bamboo paling. There was a gate at the end of this, and he led us through, fastened it, and, signing to us to follow, led us in and out behind houses, where we sometimes saw a woman or two, sometimes children at play, all of whom took refuge within till we had passed. "Big clowd outside, wait long time," said Ching, with a laugh; and directly after he led us along a narrow alley and out into a busy street, which was crowded enough, but with people going to and fro, evidently on business, and though all stopped to look, and some followed, it was not a waterside crowd of loafers, but of respectable people, moved by curiosity to watch the barbarian sailors passing along their street, but paying most heed to me with the heavy glass. I'm getting an old man now, my lads--the old boy who is writing this log; but it all comes back as clear to my mind's eye as if it were only yesterday: the narrow, busy street, with men shuffling along carrying packages, baskets of fruit and vegetables or fish, cages too containing birds, and all in the same way slung at the ends of a stout bamboo placed across the bearer's shoulder, and swinging there as if the man were carrying curious-looking pairs of scales. The shops were as bright and gay as paint and gilding laid on their quaint carvings could make them, while on their fronts hung curious lanterns, banners, and signs covered with Chinese characters, all of which I longed to decipher, and at which I was ready to stop and stare, till Ching bade me imperatively, "Come 'long." "Chinaman no fond love English sailor allee same Ching. Don't know better. Come 'long." This drew my attention to the fact that among the faces full of curiosity there were plenty which greeted us with a heavy, dull scowl, and, recalling the fact that we were only "foreign devils," according to their teachings, it seemed better to obey our guide, though we were all bitten by the same desire to stop and inspect the various shops and stores we passed. Ching led us farther and farther away from the riverside, and past enclosures at whose gates stood truculent-looking, showily-dressed men, who carried swords hung from a kind of baldrick, and scowled at us from beneath their flat, conical lacquered hats. And I noticed that our guide always hurried us past these gateways, peeps through which were wonderfully attractive, showing as they did glimpses of gardens which looked like glorified, highly-coloured representations of our old friends the willow-pattern plates. One in particular was so open that Smith stopped short, heedless of the presence of three fierce-looking Chinamen, with showy robes and long pendent moustachios. "Look here, boys," he cried. "What a game! Here's the old bridge over the water, and the cannon-ball tree, and the gold-fish pond, and--" "Come 'long," whispered Ching hurriedly; and he caught our comrade by the arm, forcing him onward as the guards scowled at us fiercely. "Here, what are you up to?" cried Smith, resenting the interference. "Take velly much care of Englis' offlicers. Big mandalin live there. Men sword velly sharp--cut off head." "Bosh!" said Smith shortly; "they'd better." "Oh no, they hadn't," cried Barkins. "We don't want to take you on board without any head." "But they daren't hurt us," cried Smith bumptiously. "We're Englishmen, and our gunboat is in the river. I'm not afraid. Why, there'd be a war if one of these men interfered with us. Our people would land and burn up the place." "No," said Ching quietly. "Send letter to mandalin. Why you men cut off little offlicer head?" "Here, who are you calling little officer, Pigtail?" cried Smith indignantly. "Mean young offlicer," cried Ching hastily. "Say, Why you men cut chop young offlicer head off? Mandalin say, Velly solly. He find out who blave was who chop young offlicer head, and give him lichi." "You mean toco?" said Barkins. "No; lichi." "What's lichi?" I said. "Tie blave up along post, and man come velly sharp sword, cut him all in 'lit pieces while he live." "And do they do that?" I asked, in horror. "Neve' find out blave who chop off head," said Ching, with a queer twinkle of the eyes. "No find blave, no can give him lichi." "Sounds pleasant, Poet, don't it?" said Barkins. "Horrid!" I cried, with a shudder. "Moral: Don't try to peep into mandarins' gateways, Blacksmith," continued Barkins. "Bosh! it's all gammon. I should like to see one of them try to cut my head off." "I shouldn't," I cried, laughing; "and he wouldn't." "No," said Ching perfectly seriously. "Velly bad have head chop off. Head velly useful." "Very," said Barkins mockingly. "Well done, Chinese Wisdom. I say, Herrick, why is a mandarin like the Grand Panjandrum?" "Because he plays at the game of catch, catch, can and can't catch the man who cuts off the English fellow's head," said Smith. "Wrong!" cried Barkins. "Now you, Poet." "Because he's got a little round button on the top." "Good boy, go up one," cried Barkins. "Hallo! what place is this?" "Velly good place, eatee drinkee. All velly nicee nicee." "Here, I say, Ching," cried Smith, "gently; any one would think we were babies. Stow some of that nicee nicee." "Yes! Stow all along inside, like ship. Allee good. Come 'long." For we had reached a showy-looking open-sided building, standing a little way back in a well-kept garden, with rockeries and tiny fish-ponds, clipped trees and paved walks, while the large open house displayed tables and neat-looking waiters going to and fro, attending upon well-dressed Chinamen, whose occupation was so much in accordance with our desires, that we entered at once, and Ching led the way to a table; one of the waiters coming up smiling as soon as we were seated. "Now then," cried Barkins, who was full of memories of hard biscuit and tough salt beef, "what are we going to have to eat?" "I don't know," I said, looking round uneasily. "What have they got?" "Here, let's make Ching order the dinner," cried Smith. "Look here, old chap. We can have a good dinner for a dollar apiece, can't we?" "Velly good dinner, dollar piecee," he replied. "That's right," said Barkins; "we don't have a chance every day to spend a dollar upon our dinner. Go it, Ching. Tell the waiter fellow, and order for yourself too. But I say, boys, we must have birds'-nest soup." "Of course," we chorussed, though Smith and I agreed afterwards that we rather shrank from trying the delicacy. Ching lost no time in giving the orders, and in a very few minutes the man bustled up with saucers and basins, and we began tasting this and tasting that as well as we could with the implements furnished to us for the purpose, to wit chopsticks, each watching the apparently wonderful skill with which Ching transferred his food from the tiny saucers placed before him, and imitating his actions with more or less success-- generally less. We had some sweet stuff, and some bits of cucumber cut up small, and some thick sticky soap-like stuff, which rather put me in mind of melted blancmange with salt and pepper instead of sugar, and when this was ended came saucers of mincemeat. "'Tain't bad," whispered Barkins, as we ate delicately. "Peg away, lads. We're pretty safe so long as we eat what Pigtail does." I did not feel so sure; but I was hungry, and as the food did not seem to be, as Barkins said, bad, I kept on, though I could not help wondering what we were eating. "I say, Ching," said Smith suddenly, "when's the birds'-nest soup coming? Oughtn't we to have had that first?" "Eat um all up lit' bit go," replied Ching. "What, that sticky stuff?" I cried. "Yes. No have velly bess flesh birds'-ness for dolla'; but all velly good. Nicee nicee, velly nicee." "Don't!" cried Smith excitedly. "Let him be, Blacksmith," said Barkins; "it's only his way. Ah, here's something else!" I looked at the little saucers placed before us, in which, neatly divided, were little appetising-looking brown heaps, covered with rich gravy, and smelling uncommonly nice. "What's this?" said Barkins, turning his over with the chopsticks. "Velly good," said Ching, smiling, and making a beginning. "Yes; don't smell bad," said Smith. "I know: it's quails. There's lots of quail in China. 'Licious!" I had a little bit of the white meat and brown gravy, which I had separated from a tiny bone with the chopsticks, and was congratulating myself on my cleverness, when it dropped back into my saucer, for Ching, with his mouth full, said quietly-- "No, not lit' bird--lat." "What's lat?" said Barkins suspiciously. "No lat," said Ching smiling; "lat." "Well, I said lat. What is lat?" Smith put down his chopsticks. I had already laid down mine. "What's the matter?" said Barkins, who kept on suspiciously turning over the contents of his saucer. "He means rat," whispered Smith in an awful tone. "What!" cried Barkins, pushing himself back with a comical look of disgust upon his face. "Yes, lat," said Ching. "Velly good fat lat." Our faces were a study. At least I know that my companions' were; and we were perfectly silent while our guide kept on making a sound with his mouth as he supped up the rich gravy. "Here, hold hard a minute," said Smith. "I mean you, Ching." "Yes?" said the Chinaman, with a pleasant smile; and he crossed his chopsticks, and looked at our brother middy inquiringly. "What was that we were eating a little while ago?" "Clucumber; velly good." "No, no; before that." "Birds'-ness soup; velly cost much. Not all birds'-ness. Some shark-fis' fin." "I don't mean that, I tell you," cried Smith in an exasperated tone of voice. "I mean that other brown meat cut up small into the brown sauce. It was rabbit, wasn't it?" "Oh no," said Ching decisively; "no labbit. Lit' mince-up pup-dog. Nicee nicee." Smith turned green, and his eyes rolled so that he actually squinted; while Barkins uttered a low sound-like gasp. As for me, I felt as I remember feeling after partaking meekly of what one of my aunts used to call prune tea--a decoction made by boiling so many French plums along with half an ounce of senna leaves. "Oh gracious!" murmured Barkins; while Smith uttered a low groan. "You both likee more?" said Ching blandly. "No!" they cried so unanimously that it was like one voice; and in spite of my own disgust and unpleasant sensations I felt as if I must laugh at them. "Oh, mawkish morsels!" muttered Barkins. "You feel you have 'nuff?" said Ching, smiling. "Oh no. Loas' suck-pig come soon. You eat velly much more." "Not if I know it," whispered Smith to me. "I don't believe it'll be pig." "What then?" I whispered back. "Kid." "Well, kid's nice." "Get out! I meant baby." "Ugh! Don't." "It's too late to say don't," groaned Smith. "We've done it." "Hold up, old chap," I whispered. "Everybody's looking at you." "Let 'em," he groaned. "Oh, I do feel so ill!" "Nonsense! Look at Tanner." He turned his wild eyes upon Barkins, whose aspect was ludicrous enough to make him forget his own sensations, and he smiled a peculiarly saddened, pensive smile; for our messmate was leaning towards Ching. "Don't eat any more of that," he said faintly. "Eat um all up; velly good." "Can one get a drop of brandy here?" "Dlop blandy? No. Velly nicee 'lack." "What's 'lack?" "No, no 'lack! lice spilit." "'Rack!" I said--"arrack?" "Yes, allack," said Ching, nodding. "Let's have some--a glass each," said Barkins; "and look sharp." Ching summoned one of the smiling waiters, and the order was given. Then for the first time he noticed that we had not finished the contents of our little saucers. "No eat lat?" he cried. I shook my head. "Velly good!" "We're not quite well," said Smith. "Been out in the sun too much," added Barkins. "Ah, sun too much bad! Lit' dlop spilit make quite well. No eat lat?" "No, no!" we cried in chorus. "Velly good," said our guide; and in alarm lest such a delicacy should be wasted, he drew first one and then the other saucer over to his side, and finished their contents. Long before this, though, the attendant had brought us three tiny glasses of white spirit, which we tossed off eagerly, with the result that the qualmish sensations passed away; but no recommendations on the part of our guide could induce us to touch anything that followed, saving sundry preparations of rice and fruit, which were excellent. The dinner over, Ching took us about the garden to inspect the lilies in pots, the gold and silver fish, fat and wonderfully shaped, which glided about in the tanks and ponds, and then led us into a kind of arbour, where, beneath a kind of wooden eave, an instrument was hanging from a peg. It was not a banjo, for it was too long; and it was not a guitar, for it was too thin, and had not enough strings; but it was something of the kind, and evidently kept there for the use of musically-disposed visitors. "You likee music?" said Ching. "Oh yes," I replied dubiously, as I sat using the telescope, gazing right away over the lower part of the town at the winding river, with its crowds of craft. "Why, he isn't going to play, is he?" whispered Smith. "We don't want to hear that. Let's go out in the town." "Don't be in such a hurry," replied Barkins. "The sun's too hot. I say, our dinner wasn't such a very great success, was it?" Smith shook his head, and just then Ching began to tune the instrument, screwing the pegs up and down, and producing the most lugubrious sounds, which somehow made me begin to think of home, and how strange it was to be sitting there in a place which seemed like part of a picture, listening to the Chinese guide. I had forgotten the unpleasantry of the dinner in the beauty of the scene, for there were abundance of flowers, the sky was of a vivid blue, and the sun shone down brilliantly, and made the distant water of the river sparkle. Close by there were the Chinese people coming and going in their strange costume; a busy hum came through the open windows; and I believe that in a few minutes I should have been asleep, if Ching had not awakened me by his vigorous onslaught upon the instrument, one of whose pegs refused to stay in exactly the right place as he kept on tuning. @@@@ Then a little more screwing up. _Peng_, _peng_, _pang_--_pong_. Ching stopped, nursed the instrument upon his knee as if it were a baby, pulled out the offending peg as if it were a tooth, moistened the hole, replaced the peg, and began again--screw, screw, screw. @@@@ Just a quarter of a tone out still, and he tried again diligently, while my eyes half closed, and the Tanner and Blacksmith both nodded in the heat. @@@@ Right at last; and Ching threw himself back so that his mouth would open to the widest extent, struck a chord on the three strings, and burst forth with celestial accompaniment into what was in all probability a passionate serenade, full of allusions to nightingales, moonbeams, dew-wet roses, lattice-windows, and beautiful moon-faced maidens, but which sounded to me like-- "Ti ope I ow wow, Ti ope I ow yow, Ti ope I ow tow, Ti ope I ligh." The words, I say, sounded like that: the music it would be impossible to give, for the whole blended together into so lamentable a howl, that both Barkins and Smith started up into wakefulness from a deep sleep, and the former looked wildly round, as confused and wondering he exclaimed-- "What's matter?" As for Smith, he seemed to be still half-asleep, and he sat up, staring blankly at the performer, who kept on howling--I can call it nothing else--in the most doleful of minor keys. "I say," whispered Barkins, "did you set him to do that?" I shook my head. "Because--oh, just look! here are all the people coming out to see what's the matter." He was right as to the people coming, for in twos and threes, as they finished the refreshment of which they had been partaking, first one path was filled and then another, the people coming slowly up and stopping to listen, while Barkins stared at them in blank astonishment. "Here Nat--Poet," he whispered, "look at 'em." "I am looking," I said. "Isn't it just like a picture?" "It's like an old firescreen," he said; "but I don't mean that. Look! Hang me if the beggars don't seem to like it. Can't you stop him?" "No, of course not." "But how long will it be before he has run down?" "I don't know," I whispered. "But look, aren't those like some of the men we saw by the gates?" I drew his attention to about half-a-dozen fierce-looking men in showy coats and lacquered hats, who came up to the garden, stared hard at us, and then walked in. Each of them, I noticed, wore a sword, and a kind of dagger stuck in his belt, and this made me at once recall their offensive looks and contemptuous manner towards us, and think of how far we were away from the ship, and unarmed, save for the ornamental dirks which hung from our belts, weapons that would have been, even if we had known how to use them, almost like short laths against the Chinamen's heavy, broad-bladed, and probably sharp swords. "I say, Gnat," whispered Barkins, "those must be the chaps we saw at the mandarin's gate. Never mind; we'll ask them to have something as soon as old Ching has finished his howling." But that did not seem likely to be for some time, and I began to think, as I sat there noticing how the men were gradually closing in upon us, that our position was not very safe, right away from the landing-place, and that we had done wrong in stopping so long where we were. I knew that the Chinese were obsequious and humble enough so long as they were face to face with a stronger power, but if they had the upper hand, cruel and merciless to any one not of their own nation, and that it was wiser to give them a wide berth. Then I began to think that the captain had been too ready to believe in our prestige in giving us leave to go, and that we should have been wiser if we had stayed on board. Finally, I had just come to the conclusion that we ought to stop Ching in his howling or singing, which grew more and more vehement as he saw that his audience was increasing, when Smith jogged my elbow. "I say," he whispered, "let's get away from here." "Why?" I said, to get to know what he thought. "Because I'm afraid those chaps with the swords mean mischief." "I say, lads," said Barkins, leaning towards us, "aren't those chaps crowding us up rather? What do they mean? Here, I'm senior, and the skipper said I was to take care of you youngsters. We'll go back to the wharf at once." "What's the good?" said Smith. "The boat won't be there to fetch us off till sundown." "Never mind, let's get away from here," said Barkins decisively; "we don't want to get in a row with the Chinese, and that's what they want." "But they're quiet enough," I said, growing nervous all the while. "Yes, they're quiet enough now," whispered Barkins; "but you look at that big fellow with the yellow belt, he keeps on making faces at us." "Let him; that will not hurt us." "I know that, little stupid," he cried, "but what follows may. Look at him now." I looked up quickly, and saw the man turn away from looking at us, and say something to his fierce-looking companions, who glanced towards us and laughed. "There," said Barkins, "I'm not going to be laughed at by those jolly old pigtailed heathens. Here, Ching, old chap, we want to go." As he spoke he gave our guide a sharp nudge, which made him turn round and stare. "Ti--ope--I--ow!" "Do you hear? We want to go!" "Ti--ope--I--ow!" howled Ching, beginning again. "Yes, we want to go," I said anxiously. "Ti--ope--I--ow!" he howled again, but as he gave forth his peculiar sounds he suddenly struck--purposely--a false, jarring note, lowered the instrument, seized one of the pegs as if in a passion, and began talking to me in a low, earnest voice, to the accompaniment of the string he tuned. "Ching see now,"--_peng_, _peng_, _peng_--"bad men with swords,"--_pang_, _peng_--"look velly closs,"--_pang_, _pong_--"wantee fightee,"--_pang_, _pang_--"you no wantee fightee,"--_pung_, _pung_. "No," I whispered anxiously; "let's go at once." "No takee notice,"--_pang_, _peng_, _peng_. "All flee, walkee walkee round one sidee house,"--_pang_, _pong_--"Ching go long other sidee,"--_peng_, _peng_. "No make, hully--walkee velly slow over lit' blidge,"--_ping_, _ping_, _ping_, _ping_, _pang_, _pang_. The little bridge was just behind us, and I grasped all he said--that we were to go slowly over the bridge and walk round the back of the house, while he would go round the front and meet us on the other side. _Bang_, _jangle_, _pang_, _pang_, _ping_, _ping_, _peng_, _peng_, went the instrument, as Ching strummed away with all his might. "Wait, Ching come show way," he whispered. And as I saw that the mandarin's men were coming nearer and evidently meant mischief, Ching raised his instrument again, and, after a preliminary flourish, began once more, to the delight of the crowd. My messmates and I slowly left our places and walked round the summer-house towards the little bridge over one of the gold-fish tanks, moving as deliberately as we could, while Ching's voice rang out, "Ti--ope--I--ow!" as if nothing were the matter. The little crowd was between us and the mandarin's retainers, but it was hard work to appear cool and unconcerned. Above all, it took almost a superhuman effort to keep from looking back. Smith could not resist the desire, and gave a sharp glance round. "They're coming after us," he whispered. "We shall have to cut and run." "No, no," said Barkins hoarsely. "They'd overtake us directly. They'd come down like a pack of wolves. We must be cool, lads, and be ready to turn and draw at the last. The beggars are awful cowards after all." We went on over the bridge, and, in spite of my dread, I made believe to look down at the gold-fish, pointing below at them, but seizing the opportunity to look out for danger. It was a quick glance, and it showed me that the crowd from the eating-house were taking no notice of us, but listening to Ching, who had left his seat, and, singing with all his might, was walking along one of the paths towards the front of the low building, while we were slowly making for the back, with the result of crowding the mandarin's men back a little, for the whole of the company moved with our guide, carefully making room for him to play, and thus unconsciously they hampered the movements of our enemies. The distance was not great, of course--fifty yards altogether, perhaps, along winding and doubling walks, for the Chinese are ingenious over making the most of a small garden, but it was long enough to keep us in an intense state of excitement, as from time to time we caught sight of the men following us. Then we saw that they had stopped to watch which way we went, and directly after we knew that they were only waiting for us to be behind the house to go back and hurry round and meet us. At last we had passed to the end of the maze-like walk, and were sheltered by the house from the little crowd and our enemies, with the result that all felt relieved. "I say," said Smith, "isn't this only a scare?" "Don't know," said Barkins. "P'raps so; but I shan't be sorry to get on board again. They think nothing of cutting a fellow to pieces." "Let's make haste, then," I said; and, nothing loth, the others hurried on past the back of the house, where the kitchen seemed to be, and plenty of servants were hurrying to and fro, too busy to take any heed of us. Then we turned the corner, and found that we were opposite to a gateway opening upon a very narrow lane, which evidently went along by the backs of the neighbouring houses, parallel with the main street, which was, however, not such a great deal wider than this. "Here's a way for us to go down, at all events," said Barkins, after we had listened for a few moments for Ching's song, and the wiry notes of his instrument. "Yes, let's cut down at once," said Smith. "Where to?" I said excitedly. "We can't find our way without Ching." "No; and those beggars would hunt us down there at once," said Barkins. "Won't do. I say, though, why don't they give us better tools than these to wear?" "Hark!" I said; "listen!" We listened, but there was nothing but the murmur of voices in the house, and not a soul to be seen on our side, till all at once I caught sight of something moving among the shrubs, and made out that it was the gay coat of one of the men from whom we sought to escape. "Come on!" said Smith excitedly, and he threw open the gate leading into the narrow lane, so that in another moment we should have been in full retreat, had not a door behind us in the side of the house been opened, and Ching appeared. He did not speak, but made a sign for us to enter, and we were hardly inside and the door thrust to--all but a chink big enough for our guide to use for reconnoitring--when we heard the soft pat-pat of the men's boots, then the rustle of their garments, and the tap given by one of their swords as they passed through the gateway and ran down the narrow lane. "All gone along, catchee you," whispered Ching. "Come 'long other way." He stepped out, made us follow, and then carefully closed the door. "Now, come 'long this way," he said, with his eyes twinkling. "No walkee fast. Allee boy lun after." We saw the wisdom of his proceedings, and followed him, as he took us by the way our enemies had come, straight out into the main street, down it a little way, and then up a turning, which he followed till we came to another important street parallel to the one by which we had come, and began to follow it downward toward the waterside. "Muchee flighten?" he said. "Oh, I don't know," growled Barkins, who had the deepest voice of the three. "It was startling. Did they mean mischief?" "Mean chop chop. Allee bad wick' men. No catchee now. Ching velly much flighten." He did not look so, but chatted away with open, smiling face, as he pointed first on one side then on the other to some striking-looking shop or building, though he never paused for a moment, but kept on at a good rate without showing a sign of hurry or excitement. "How are we to get on board when we get to the river?" I said, as we went on. "There'll be no boat till sundown." "Ching get one piecee boat low all aboard ship." "Can't you keep us in your place till our boat comes?" The man shook his head. "Mandalin boy come burn um down, makee all lun out. So velly hot. No stay. Get boat, low away." "How far is it, do you think?" asked Smith. "I don't know," said Barkins. "We seemed to be walking for hours in the hot sun coming up. How far is it, Ching?" "Velly long way. No look at garden now." He pointed to one of the handsome gateways about which a party of armed retainers were hanging, and, whispering to us not to take any notice, he walked us steadily along. But we were not to get by the place without notice, for the loungers saw us coming, and strode out in a swaggering way--three big sturdy fellows in blue and scarlet, and pretty well blocked the way as they stood scowling at us. "Look out," whispered Barkins, "ready with your toasting-forks, and then if it comes to it we must run." "You'll stick by us, Gnat," whispered Smith in a hasty whisper. "I'll try," I said. "Keep velly close," whispered Ching. "No takee notice. No talkee closs. Ching speakee." He said something in Chinese to the men, and led us in single file between the two most fierce-looking, our prompt action taking them somewhat by surprise, and, as we gave them no excuse for taking offence, they only turned to gaze after us. There were plenty of people in the street ready to stand and look at us, and we met with no interruption from them, but I could not help seeing the anxiety in Ching's face, and how from time to time he wiped his streaming brow. But as soon as he saw either of us looking at him he smiled as if there was nothing the matter whatever. "No velly long now," he said. "Lot bad men to-day. You come walkee walkee 'gain?" "It's not very tempting, Ching," I said. "Why can't they leave us alone?" He tightened his lips and shook his head. Then, looking sharply before him, he hurried us along a little more. "Wish got ten--twenty--piecee soldier man 'longside," he whispered to me, and the next minute he grasped my arm with a spasmodic snatch. "What's the matter?" I said. He did not speak, but looked sharply to right and left for a means of escape. For, in spite of the cleverness of our guide, the mandarin's men had been as cunning. They had either divined or been told that we had made for the other street, and had contrived to reach the connecting lane along which we should have to pass. Here they had planted themselves, and just as we were breathing more freely, in the belief that before long we should reach the shore of the great river, we caught sight of them in company with about a dozen more. We were all on the point of halting, as we saw them about fifty yards in front, but Ching spoke out sharply-- "No stoppee," he said firmly. "Lun away, all come catchee and choppee off head. Go 'long stlaight and flighten 'em. Englis' sailor foleign debil, 'flaid o' nobody." "There's something in that," said Barkins. "Right. Show a bold front, lads. Let's go straight by them, and if they attack, then out with your swords and let's make a fight for it." I heard Smith say, "All right," and my heart was beating very fast as I said the same. Frightened? Of course I was. I don't believe the boy ever lived who would not feel frightened at having to face death. For it was death we had to face then, and in the ugliest shape. But Smith's words sent a thrill through us. "I say, lads," he said, "we've got to fight this time. If we begged for our lives they'd only serve us worse; so let 'em have it, and recollect that, if they kill us, the old _Teasers'll_ come and burn their town about their ears." "'Fraid, Ching?" I whispered; for he and I were in front. "No 'flaid now," he whispered back. "Plenty flighten by and by." He smiled as he spoke, and led us straight on to where the four mandarin's men and the rough-looking fellows with them blocked the road, and if for a moment we had shown any hesitation, I believe they would have rushed at us like wolves. But Ching kept his head up as if proud of acting as guide to three British officers, and when we got close up he nodded smilingly at the men in the mandarin's colours, and then, as if astounded at the little crowd standing fast, he burst out into a furious passion, shouting at them in a wild gabble of words, with the effect of making them give way at once, so that we passed through. Then I heard him draw a panting breath, and saw that he was ghastly. "Walkee walkee," he whispered. "Not velly fast. 'Top I say lun, and lun fast alleegether." At that moment there was a loud shouting behind, then a yell, and, turning my head, I saw that the mandarin's men had their great blades out, and were leading the men after us, shouting to excite themselves and the little mob. "Now lun!" cried Ching. "I showee way." "No!" shouted Barkins. "Draw swords and retreat slowly." We whipped out our weapons and turned to face the enemy, knowing full well that they would sweep over us at the first rush, while a feeling of rage ran through me, as in my despairing fit I determined to make the big fellow opposite to me feel one dig of English steel before he cut me down. Then they were upon us with a rush, and I saw Ching dart in front and cleverly snatch one of the clumsy swords from the nearest man. The next moment he had whirled it up with both hands, when-- _Boom_--_Crash_! There was the report of a heavy gun, whose concussion made the wooden houses on each side jar and quiver as it literally ran up the narrow street, and, to our astonishment, we saw the little mob turn on the instant and begin to run, showing us, instead of their fierce savage faces, so many black pigtails; the mandarin's men, though, last. "Hooray!" we yelled after them, and they ran the faster. "Now, velly quick," panted Ching. "Come back again soon." We uttered another shout, and hurried along the lane to the principal street, turned at right angles, and began to hurry along pretty rapidly now, Ching marching beside us with the big sword over his shoulder. But the scare was only temporary, the tremendous report was not repeated, and before a minute had elapsed, our guide, who kept glancing back, cried-- "Now, lun velly fast. Come along catchee catchee, and no big gun go shoot this time." He was quite right, and we took to our heels, with the yelling mob close at hand, and so many people in front, that we felt certain of being run down long before we could reach the waterside. "And no chance for us when we do," muttered Barkins from close behind me. "Oh, if a couple of dozen of our lads were only here! Why didn't they send 'em?" he panted, "instead of firing as a signal for us to go back on board." CHAPTER THREE. CUTTING IT CLOSE. My messmate uttered these words close to my ears in a despairing tone as we dashed on, and now I saw Ching strike to his right, while I made a cut or two at my left, as men started from the sides and tried to trip us up. I was growing faint with the heat down in that narrow, breathless street, my clothes stuck to me, and Barkins' heavy telescope banged heavily against my side, making me feel ready to unfasten the strap and let it fall. But I kept on for another fifty yards or so with our enemies yelling in the rear, and the waterside seeming to grow no nearer. "Keep together, lads," cried Barkins excitedly. "It can't be far now. We'll seize the first boat we come to, and the tide will soon take us out of their reach." But these words came in a broken, spasmodic way, for, poor fellow, he was as out of breath as any of us. "Hoolay! Velly lit' way now," cried Ching; and then he finished with a howl of rage, for half-a-dozen armed men suddenly appeared from a gateway below us, and we saw at a glance that they were about to take sides with the rest. "Lun--lun," yelled Ching, and, flourishing his sword, he led us right at the newcomers, who, startled and astounded by our apparent boldness, gave way, and we panted on, utterly exhausted, for another fifty yards, till Ching suddenly stopped in an angle of the street formed by a projecting house. "No lun. No, no!" he panted. "Fight--kill." Following his example, we faced round, and our bold front checked the miserable gang of wretches, who stopped short a dozen yards from us, their numbers swelled by the new party, and waited yelling and howling behind the swordsmen, who stood drawing up their sleeves, and brandishing their heavy weapons, working themselves up for the final rush, in which I knew we should be hacked to pieces. "Good-bye, old chap," whispered Barkins in a piteous tone, his voice coming in sobs of exhaustion. "Give point when they come on: don't strike. Try and kill one of the cowardly beggars before they finish us." "Yes," I gasped. "Chuck that spyglass down," cried Smith; "it's in your way." Gladly enough I swung the great telescope round, slipped the strap over my head, and as I did so I saw a sudden movement in the crowd. In an instant the experience we had had upon the river flashed across my brain. I recalled how the crew of the great tea-boat had dropped away from her high stern when Barkins had used the glass, and for the first time I grasped why this had been. My next actions were in a mad fit of desperate mischief more than anything else. For, recalling that I had a few flaming fusees in my jacket pocket, I snatched out the box, secured one; then, taking off the cap, which hung by a strap, I pulled the brass and leather telescope out to its full extent, presented the large end at the mob, uttered as savage a yell as I could and struck a fusee, which went off with a crack, and flashed and sparkled with plenty of blaze. The effect was instantaneous. Mistaking the big glass, which had been a burden to me all day, for some terrible new form of gun, the swordsmen uttered a wild yell of horror, and turned and fled, driving the unarmed mob before them, all adding their savage cries of dread. "Hoor-rah," shouted Barkins. "Now, boys, a Yankee tiger. Waggle the glass well, Gnat. All together. Hurrah--rah--rah--rah--rah!" We produced as good an imitation of the American cheer as we could, and Ching supplemented it with a hideous crack-voiced yell, while I raised and lowered the glass and struck another match. As we looked up the street we could see part of the mob still running hard, but the swordsmen had taken refuge to right and left, in doorways, angles, and in side shops, and were peering round at us, watching every movement. "No' laugh!" said Ching anxiously. "Big fool. Think um bleech-loader. Now, come 'long, walkee walkee blackward. I go first." It was good advice, and we began our retreat, having the street to ourselves for the first minute. My messmates supported me on either side, and we walked backward with military precision. "Well done, gun carriage," panted Barkins to me. "I say, Blacksmith, who says the old glass isn't worth a hundred pounds now?" "Worth a thousand," cried Smith excitedly. "But look out, they're coming out of their holes again." I made the object-glass end describe a circle in the air as we slowly backed, and the swordsmen darted away to the shelters they had quitted to follow us as they saw us in retreat. But as there was no report, and they saw us escaping, they began to shout one to the other, and ran to and fro, zig-zagging down the street after us, each man darting across to a fresh place of shelter. And as the retreat went on, and no report with a rush of bullets tore up the street, the men gained courage; the mob high up began to gather again. Then there was distant yelling and shouting, and the danger seemed to thicken. "Is it much farther, Ching?" cried Barkins. "Yes, velly long way," he replied. "No' got no levolvers?" "No, I wish I had." "Fine levolver bull-dog in fancee shop, and plenty cahtlidge. Walkee fast." We were walking backwards as fast as we could, and the danger increased. In place of running right across now from shelter to shelter, the big swordsmen stopped from time to time on their way to flourish their weapons, yell, indulge in a kind of war-dance, and shout out words we did not understand. "What do they say, Ching?" asked Smith. "Say chop all in lit' small piece dilectly." "Look here," cried Barkins, as the demonstrations increased, and the wretches now began to gather on each side of the street as if threatening a rush, "let's stop and have a shot at 'em." "No, no," cried Ching, "won't go off blang." "Never mind, we'll pretend it will. Halt!" We stopped, so did our enemies, and, in imitation of the big gun practice on board ship, Barkins shouted out order after order, ending with, Fire! Smith held the flaming fusees now, and at the word struck one with a loud crackle, just as we were beginning to doubt the efficacy of our ruse, for the enemy were watching us keenly; and, though some of them moved uneasily and threatened to run for shelter, the greater part stood firm. But at the loud crackle and flash of the fusee, and Smith's gesture to lay it close to the eye-piece, they turned and fled yelling once more into the houses on either side, from which now came an addition to the noise, in the shrill howls and shrieks of women, who were evidently resenting the invasion of all these men. "Now, walkee far," cried Ching. "No good no mo'. Allee fun lun out. No be big fool any longer." We felt that he was right, and retreated as fast as we could, but still backward, mine being the duty to keep the mouth of our sham cannon to bear upon them as well as the blundering backward through the mudholes of the dirty street would allow. That street seemed to be endless to us in our excitement, and the feeling that our guide must be taking us wrong began to grow upon me, for I made no allowances for the long distance we had gone over in the morning, while now it grew more and more plain, by the actions of our pursuers, that they were to be cheated no more. The dummy had done its duty, and I felt that I might just as well throw it away and leave myself free, as expect the glass to scare the enemy away again. "We shall have to make a rush for it," said Barkins at last; "but it is hard now we have got so near to safety. Shall I try the telescope again, Ching?" "No, no good," said our guide gloomily. "Hi, quick all along here." He made a dash for the front of a house, which seemed to offer some little refuge for us in the shape of a low fencing, behind which we could protect ourselves; for all at once there was a new development of the attack, the mob having grown during the last few minutes more daring, and now began to throw mud and stones. Ching's sudden dash had its effect upon them, for when he ran they set up a howl of triumph, and as we dashed after our guide they suddenly altered their tactics, ceased stone-throwing, and, led by the swordsmen, charged down upon us furiously. "It's all over," groaned Smith, as we leaped over the low fence and faced round. And so it seemed to be, for the next minute we were stopping and dodging the blows aimed at us. It was all one wild confusion to me, in which I saw through a mist the gleaming eyes and savage faces of the mob. Then, above their howlings, and just as I was staggering back from a heavy blow which I received from a great sword, which was swept round with two hands and caught me with a loud jar on the side, I heard a familiar cheer, and saw the man who had struck me go down backwards, driven over as it were by a broad-bladed spear. As I struggled to my knees, I saw the savage mob in full flight, chased by a dozen blue-jackets, who halted and ran back to where we were, in obedience to a shrill whistle. Then--it was all more misty to me--two strong arms were passed under mine; I saw Smith treated in the same way; and, pursued by the crowd howling like demons, we were trotted at the double down the street to the wharf, which was after all close at hand, and swung down into the boat. "Push off!" shouted a familiar voice, and the wharf and the crowd began to grow distant, but stones flew after us till the officer in command fired shot after shot from his revolver over the heads of the crowd, which then took to flight. "What are we to do with the prisoner, sir--chuck him overboard?" "Prisoner?" cried the officer in charge of the boat. "Yes, sir, we got him, sword and all. He's the chap as come aboard yesterday." "Yes," I panted as I sat up, breathing painfully, "it's Ching. He's our friend." "Yes, flend, evelibody fiend," cried Ching. "Wantee go shore. Fancee shop." "Go ashore?" said the officer. "Yes, walkee shore." "But if I set you ashore amongst that howling mob, they'll cut you to pieces." "Ching 'flaid so. Allee bad man. Wantee kill young offlicer." "And he fought for us, Mr Brown, like a brick," said Barkins. "Then we must take him aboard for the present." "Yes, go 'board, please," said Ching plaintively. "Not my sword--b'long mandalin man." "Let's see where you're wounded," said the officer, as the men rowed steadily back towards the _Teaser_. "I--I don't think I'm wounded," I panted, "but it hurts me rather to breathe." "Why, I saw one of the brutes cut you down with his big sword," cried Smith. "Yes," I said, "I felt it, but, but--yes, of course: it hit me here." "Oh, murder!" cried Smith. "Look here, Tanner. Your glass has got it and no mistake." It had "got it" and no mistake, for the blow from the keen sword had struck it at a sharp angle, and cut three parts of the way through the thick metal tube, which had been driven with tremendous force against my ribs. "Oh, Gnat!" cried Barkins, as he saw the mischief, "it's quite spoilt. What a jolly shame!" "But it saved his life," said Smith, giving him a meaning nod. "I wouldn't have given much for his chance, if he hadn't had that telescope under his arm. I say, Mr Brown, why was the gun fired?" "To bring you all on board. Captain's got some information. Look, we've weighed anchor, and we're off directly--somewhere." "But what about Ching?" I said to Barkins. "Ching! Well, he'll be safe on board and unsafe ashore. I don't suppose we shall be away above a day. I say, Ching, you'll have to stop." "Me don't mind. Velly hungly once more. Wantee pipe and go sleepee. Velly tire. Too much fightee." We glided alongside of the gunboat the next minute, where Mr Reardon was waiting for us impatiently. "Come, young gentlemen," he cried, "you've kept us waiting two hours. Up with you. Good gracious, what a state you're in! Nice addition to a well-dishiplined ship! and--here, what's the meaning of this?" he cried, as the boat rose to the davits. "Who is this Chinese boy?" "Velly glad get 'board," said the man, smiling at the important officer. "All along big fight. Me Ching." CHAPTER FOUR. DOUBLE ALLOWANCE. No time was lost in getting out of the mouth of the river, and as soon as the bustle and excitement of the start was over, we three were sent for to the cabin to relate our adventures to the captain, the first lieutenant being present to put in a word now and then. "The brutes!" the captain kept on muttering from time to time, and Mr Reardon nodded and tightened his lips. "Well, young gentlemen," he said, when Barkins, who as eldest had been spokesman, finished his recital, "I can do nothing. If you had all three been brutally murdered, of course the Government could have made representations to the authorities, and your families would have secured compensation." We glanced at one another. "But as, unfortunately--I mean fortunately--you have neither of you got a scratch, I can do nothing." "But they were so awfully savage with us, sir," said Smith. "Yes, Mr Smith, so I suppose. It is their nature; but we cannot punish an unknown mob. We must try and administer the castigation vicariously." "Please, sir, I don't understand you," said Smith. "Do you mean--" "Set a vicar to talk to them, Mr Smith? No, I do not. I mean, as we have very good information about three or four piratical junks being in the straits between here and Amoy, we must come down heavily upon them, and administer the punishment there." Mr Reardon nodded, and rubbed his hands. "This scrape of yours, though, will be a most severe lesson to me," continued the captain. "It was very weak and easy of me to give you all leave for a run ashore. I ought to have referred you to Mr Reardon. But you may take it for granted that I shall not err again in this way. You can return on deck." "Oh, what a jolly shame!" grumbled Barkins. "And there was old Reardon chuckling over it, and looking as pleased as Punch. Who'd be a middy? It's like being in a floating prison." But it was a very pleasant floating prison all the same, I could not help thinking, as we gradually got farther out from the land, over which the sun was sinking fast, and lighting up the mountain-tops with gold, while the valleys rapidly grew dark. Every one on the clean white deck was full of eager excitement, and the look-out most thoroughly on the _qui vive_. For the news that we were going up northward in search of some piratical junks sent a thrill through every breast. It meant work, the showing that we were doing some good on the China station, and possibly prize-money, perhaps promotion for some on board, though of course not for us. We had been upon the station several months, but it had not been our good fortune to capture any of the piratical scoundrels about whose doings the merchants--Chinese as well as European--were loud in complaint. And with justice, for several cruel massacres of crews had taken place before the ships had been scuttled and burned; besides, quite a dozen had sailed from port never to be heard of more; while the only consolation Captain Thwaites had for his trips here and there, and pursuit of enemies who disappeared like Flying Dutchmen, was that the presence of our gunboat upon the coast no doubt acted as a preventative, for we were told that there used to be three times as many acts of piracy before we came. And now, as we glided along full sail before a pleasant breeze, with the topgallant sails ruddy in the evening light, there seemed at last some prospect of real business, for it had leaked out that unless Captain Thwaites' information was very delusive, the Chinamen had quite a rendezvous on one of the most out-of-the-way islands off Formosa, from whence they issued, looking like ordinary trading-boats, and that it was due to this nest alone that so much mischief had been done. A good meal down below, without dog or rat, as Barkins put it, had, in addition to a comfortable wash and change, made us forget a good deal of our weariness; and, as we were still off duty, we three loitered about the deck, picking up all the information we could regarding the way in which the news had been brought, in exchange for accounts of our own adventures, to insure credence in which Barkins carried about the nearly-divided telescope which had stood us in such good stead. It was rapidly growing dark, when, close under the bulwarks, and in very near neighbourhood to one of our big bow guns, we came upon what looked in the gloom like a heap of clothes. "What's that?" I said. "Chine-he, sir," said one of the sailors. "We give him a good tuck-out below, and he come up then for a snooze. Hi, John! The gents want to speak to you." There was a quick movement, and a partly bald head appeared from beneath two loose sleeves, which had been folded over it like the wings of a flying fox, and Ching's familiar squeaky voice said-- "You wantee me. Go shore?" "No, no; not to-night," cried Smith. "We shall set you ashore when we come back." "You go velly far--allee way Gleat Blitain?" "No, not this time, Ching," cried Barkins, as we all laughed. "No go allee way London? Ching wantee go London, see Queen Victolia and Plince o' Wales." "Some other time, Ching," I said. "But I say, how about the fancy shop?" "Allee light. Ching go back." "And how are you after our fight to-day?" "Velly angly. Allee muchee quite 'shame of mandalin men. Big lascal, evely one." "So they are," said Barkins. "But I say, Ching, are you a good sailor?" The Chinaman shook his head. "Ching velly good man, keep fancee shop. Ching not sailor." "He means, can you go to sea without being sick?" I said, laughing. He gave us a comical look. "Don'tee know. Velly nicee now. Big offlicer say jolly sailor take gleat care Ching, and give hammock go to sleep. You got banjo, music-- git-tar?" "One of the chaps has got one," said Smith. "Why?" "You fetchee for Ching. I play, sing--`ti-ope-I-ow' for captain and jolly sailor. Makee Ching velly happy, and no makee sea-sick like coolie in big boat." "Not to-night, Ching," said Barkins decisively. "Come along, lads. I'm afraid," he continued, as we strolled right forward, "that some of us would soon be pretty sick of it if he did begin that precious howling. But I say, we ought to look after him well, poor old chap; it's precious rough on him to be taken out to sea like this." "Yes," I said; "and he behaved like a trump to us to-day." "That he did," assented Smith, as all three rested our arms on the rail, and looked at the twinkling distant lights of the shore. "You give Ching flee dollar," said a voice close behind us, and we started round, to find that the object of our conversation had come up silently in his thick, softly-soled boots, in which his tight black trouser bottoms were tucked. "Three dollars!" cried Smith; "what for?" "Say all give Ching dollar show way." "So we did," cried Barkins. "I'd forgotten all about it." "So had I." "But you got us nearly killed," protested Smith. "That was all in the bargain," cried Barkins. "Well, I say he came out well, and I shall give him two dollars, though I am getting precious short." "Flee dollar," said Ching firmly. Then, shaking his head, he counted upon his fingers, "One, two, flee." "It's all right, Ching," I said. "Two dollars apiece. Come on, Blacksmith." I took out my two dollars. "Come, Tanner." "No, no," cried Ching; "tanner tickpence; two dollar tickpence won't do. Flee dollar." "It's all right," I said, and I held out my hand for my messmates' contributions, afterward placing the six dollars in the Chinaman's hand. His long-nailed fingers closed over the double amount, and he looked from one to the other as if he did not comprehend. Then he unwillingly divided the sum. "No light," he said. "Flee dollar." "The other for the fight," I said, feeling pleased to have met a Chinaman who was not dishonest and grasping. "You wantee 'nother fight morrow?" he said, looking at me sharply. "Don't know. Not aflaid." "No, no; you don't understand," I cried, laughing. "We give you six dollars instead of three." Ching nodded, and the silver money disappeared up his sleeve. Then his body writhed a little, and the arm and hand appeared again in the loose sleeve. "Sailor boy 'teal Ching dollar?" "Oh no," I said confidently. "No pullee tail?" "Ah, that I can't answer for," I said. "Twist it up tightly." "To be sure," said Barkins. "It don't do to put temptation in the poor fellows' way. I'm afraid," he continued, "that if I saw that hanging out of a hammock I should be obliged to have a tug." Ching nodded, and stole away again into the darkness, for night had fallen now, and we were beginning to feel the waves dancing under us. An hour later I was in my cot fast asleep, and dreaming of fierce-looking Chinamen in showy-patterned coats making cuts at me with big swords, which were too blunt to cut, but which gave me plenty of pain, and this continued more or less all night. In the morning I knew the reason why, my left side was severely bruised, and for the next few days I could not move about without a reminder of the terrible cut the mandarin's retainer had made at me with his sword. CHAPTER FIVE. CHING HAS IDEAS. Week had passed, during which we had cruised here and there, in the hope of falling in with the pirates. Once in the right waters, it did not much signify which course we took, for we were as likely to come across them sailing north as south. So our coal was saved, and we kept steadily along under canvas. But fortune seemed to be still against us, and though we boarded junk after junk, there was not one of which the slightest suspicion could be entertained; and their masters, as soon as they realised what our mission was, were only too eager to afford us every information they could. Unfortunately, they could give us none of any value. They could only tell us about divers acts of horrible cruelty committed here and there within the past few months, but could not point out where the pirates were likely to be found. Ching, in spite of some rough weather, had never been obliged to leave the deck, and had proved to be so valuable an acquisition, that he was informed that he would have a certain rate of pay as interpreter while he stayed on board; and as soon as he was made aware of this, he strutted up to me and told me the news. "Captain makee interpleter and have lot dollar. Muchee better keepee fancee shop." This was after, at my suggestion to Mr Reardon, he had been sent out in one of the boats to board a big junk, and from that time it became a matter of course that when a boat was piped away, Ching's pigtail was seen flying out nearly horizontally in his eagerness to be first in the stern-sheets. But it was always the same. The boat came back with Ching looking disappointed, and his yellow forehead ploughed with parallel lines. "Ching know," he said to me one evening mysteriously. "Know what?" I said. "Plenty pilate boat hide away in island. No come while big ship _Teasler_ here." "Oh, wait a bit," I said; "we shall catch them yet." "No, catchee," he said despondently. "Pilate velly cunning. See Queen Victolia ship say big gun go bang. 'Top away." "But where do you think they hide?" "Evelywhere," he said. "Plentee liver, plenty cleek, plenty hide away." "Then we shall never catch them?" I said. "Ching wantee catchee, wantee plenty money; but pilate won't come. Pilate 'flaid." "And I suppose, as soon as we go away, they'll come out and attack the first merchantman that comes along the coast." "Yes," said Ching coolly; "cut allee boy float, settee fire junk, burnee ship." "Then what's to be done?" I said. "It's very disappointing." "Ching go back fancee shop; no catchee pilate, no plize-money." "Oh, but we shall drop upon them some day." "No dlop upon pilate. Ching not captain. Ching catchee." "How?" I said. "Take big ship back to liver. Put big gun, put jolly sailor 'board two big junk, and go sail 'bout. Pilate come thinkee catchee plenty silk, plenty tea. Come aboard junk. Jolly sailor chop head off, and no more pilate." "That sounds well, Ching," I said; "but I don't think we could do that." "No catchee pilate?" he said. "Ching velly tire. No good, velly hungry; wantee go back fancee shop." I thought a good deal about what the Chinaman had said, for it was weary, dispiriting work this overhauling every vessel we saw that seemed likely to be our enemy. It was dangerous work, too, for the narrow sea was foul with reefs; but our information had been that it was in the neighbourhood of the many islands off Formosa that the piratical junks had their nest, and the risk had to be run for the sake of the possible capture to be made. "Ching says he wants to get back to the fancee shop," sad Smith one morning. "So do I, for I'm sick of this dreary work. Why, I'd rather have another of our days ashore." "Not you," I said. "But I say, look here, I haven't spoke about it before, but Ching says--hi, Tanner, come here!" "That he doesn't," cried Smith. "Hallo! what is it?" said Barkins, whom I had hailed, and he came over from the port side of the deck. "I was going to tell Blacksmith what Ching says. You may as well hear too." "Don't want to. I know." "What! has he been saying to you--" "No, not again." "What did he say?" "Ti-ope-I-ow!" cried Barkins, imitating the Chinaman's high falsetto, and then striking imaginary strings of a guitar-like instrument. "_Peng_--_peng-peng_." "I say, don't fool," I cried angrily. "Gnat!" said Barkins sharply, "you're a miserably-impudent little scrub of a skeeter, and presume upon your size to say insolent things to your elders." "No, I don't," I said shortly. "Yes, you do, sir. You called me a fool just now." "I didn't." "If you contradict me, I'll punch your miserable little head, sir. No, I won't, I'll make Blacksmith do it; his fists are a size smaller than mine." "Be quiet, Tanner!" cried Smith; "he knows something. Now, then, Gnat: what does Ching say?" "That we shall never catch the pirates, because they won't come out when the gunboat is here." "Well, there's something in that. Tell Mr Reardon." "Is it worth while? He says we ought to arm a couple of junks, and wait for the pirates to come out and attack us." "Ching's Christian name ought to be Solomon," said Smith. "Thanky wisdom teeth," said Barkins sarcastically. "I say, Gnat, he's quite right. They'd be fools if they did come out to be sunk. I daresay they're watching us all the time somewhere or other from one of the little fishing-boats we see put out." "Well, young gentlemen," said a sharp voice behind us; "this is contrary to dishipline. You can find something better to do than gossiping." "Beg pardon, sir, we are not gossiping," said Barkins. "We were discussing the point." "Oh, indeed," said the first lieutenant sarcastically; "then have the goodness to--" Barkins saw breakers ahead, and hastened to say-- "The Chinaman says, sir--" "Don't tell me what the Chinaman says, sir!" cried the lieutenant fiercely. "But it was about the pirates, sir." "Eh? What?" cried our superior officer, suddenly changing his tone. "Has he some idea?" "Yes, sir. No, sir." "Mr Barkins! What do you mean, sir?" "He thinks we shall never catch them, sir," stammered my messmate, who could see punishment writ large in the lieutenant's face. "Confound the Chinaman, sir!" roared the lieutenant. "So do I; so does Captain Thwaites." He spoke so loudly that this gentleman heard him from where he was slowly marching up and down, talking to the marine officer, and he turned and came towards us. "In trouble, young gentlemen?" he said quietly. "Pray what does Captain Thwaites?" he added, turning to the chief officer. "I beg your pardon, sir. I was a little exasperated. These young gentlemen, upon my reproving them for idling, have hatched up a cock-and-bull story--at least Mr Barkins has." "I beg pardon, sir; it was not a--not a--not a--" "Cock-and-bull story, Mr Herrick," said the captain, smiling at my confusion, for I had rushed into the gap. "Then pray what was it?" I told him all that Ching had said, and the captain nodded his head again and again as I went on. "Yes," he said at last, "I'm afraid he is right, Reardon. It is worth thinking about. What do you say to my sending you and Mr Brooke in a couple of junks?" They walked off together, and we heard no more. "Oh, how I should like to punch old Dishy's head!" said Barkins between his teeth. "Don't take any notice," said Smith; "it's only because he can't get a chance to sink a pirate. I don't believe there's one anywhere about the blessed coast." "Sail ho!" cried the man at the mast-head, and all was excitement on the instant, for after all the strange sail might prove to be a pirate. "Away on the weather bow, sir, under the land!" cried the man in answer to hails from the deck; and then, before glasses could be adjusted and brought to bear, he shouted-- "She's ashore, sir--a barque--fore--topmast gone, and--she's afire." The _Teaser's_ course was altered directly, and, helped by a favouring breeze, we ran down rapidly towards the wreck, which proved to be sending up a thin column of smoke, and soon after this was visible from the deck. CHAPTER SIX. MY FIRST HORROR. I was in a great state of excitement, and stood watching the vessel through my spyglass, longing for the distance to be got over and what promised to be a mystery examined. For a wreck was possible and a fire at sea equally so, but a ship ashore and burning seemed to be such an anomaly that the officers all looked as if they felt that we were on the high road to something exciting at last. In fact, we had been so long on the station for the purpose of checking piracy, but doing nothing save overhaul inoffensive junks, that we were all heartily sick of our task. For it was not, as Smith said, as if we were always in some port where we could study the manners and customs of the Chinese, but for ever knocking about wild-goose chasing and never getting a goose. "Plenty on board," cried Barkins. "I say, Gnat, isn't he a humbug? Ha, ha! Study the manners and customs! Stuffing himself with Chinese sweets and hankering after puppy-pie, like the bargees on the Thames." "Oh, does he?" cried Smith. "Who ate the fricassee of rats?" "Oh, bother all that!" I said. "Here, Blacksmith, lend me your glass a minute; it's stronger than mine." "Ho, ho!" laughed Barkins. "His! The wapping whacker! Why, it's a miserable slopshop second-hand thing. You should have had mine. That was something like, before you spoiled it." "Here you are," said Smith, lending me his glass. "It's worth a dozen of his old blunderbuss." I took the glass and had a good long inspection of the large barque, which lay heeled over on the outlying reef of one of the many islands, and could distinctly see the fine curl of smoke rising up from the deck somewhere about the forecastle. "Make out any one on board, Mr Herrick?" said a sharp voice behind me, and I started round, to find that my companions had gone forward, and the first lieutenant was behind me with his spyglass under his arm and his face very eager and stern. "No, sir; not a soul." "Nor signals?" "None." "No more can I," my lad. "Your eyes are younger and sharper than mine. Look again. Do the bulwarks seem shattered?" I took a long look. "No, sir," I said. "Everything seems quite right except the fore-topmast, which has snapped off, and is hanging in a tangle down to the deck." "But the fire?" "That only looks, sir, as if they'd got a stove in the forecastle, and had just lit the fire with plenty of smoky coal." "Hah! That's all I can make out. We've come to something at last, Mr Herrick." "Think so, sir?" I said respectfully. "Sure of it, my lad;" and he walked off to join the captain, while just then Ching came up softly and pointed forward. "Big ship," he said. "Pilate; all afire." "Think so?" Ching nodded. "Hallo, Gnat, what does the first luff say?" asked Barkins, who joined us then. "Thinks it's a vessel cast ashore by the pirates." "Maybe. I should say it's one got on the reef from bad seamanship." "And want of a Tanner on board to set them right," said Smith. "Skipper's coming," whispered Barkins; and we separated. For the next hour all was eager watchfulness on board, as we approached very slowly, shortening sail, and with two men in the chains heaving the lead on account of the hidden reefs and shoals off some of the islands. But, as we approached, nothing more could be made out till the man aloft hailed the deck, and announced that he could read the name on the stern, _Dunstaffnage, Glasgow_. Another hour passed, during which the island, a couple of miles beyond, was swept by glass after glass, and tree and hill examined, but there was no sign of signal on tree or hill. All was bare, chilly, and repellent there, and we felt that the crew of the vessel could not have taken refuge ashore. At last the crew of a boat was piped away, and, as I was gazing longingly at the men getting in under the command of Mr Brooke, a quiet, gentlemanly fellow, our junior lieutenant, Mr Reardon said, as he caught my eye-- "Yes; go." I did not wait for a second order, you may be sure, but sprang in, and as the _Teaser_ was thrown up in the wind with her sails flapping, it being deemed unsafe to go any nearer to the barque, the little wheels chirrupped, and down we went, to sit the next moment lightly upon a good-sized wave which rose up as if to receive us; the falls were cast off, the oars dropped, and the next minute we glided away towards the stranded vessel. "Quite a treat to get a bit of an adventure, eh Herrick?" said Mr Brooke. "Yes, sir. Been slow enough lately." "Oh, you need not grumble, my lad. You did have one good adventure. By the way, how are your sore ribs?" "My ribs, sir? Oh, I had forgotten all about them. But do you think this is the work of pirates, or that the ship has run ashore?" "I'm not sure, my lad, but we shall soon know." We sat watching the fine well-built barque, as the men pulled lustily at their oars, making the water flash and the distance grow shorter. Then all at once my companion said shortly-- "Pirates." "Where, where?" I said eagerly, and my hand went to my dirk. Mr Brooke laughed, and I saw all the men showing their teeth. "No, no, my lad," he said. "I meant this was the work of pirates." "How do you know, sir?" "Look at those ropes and sheets hanging loose. They have been cut. The barque has not been in a storm either. She has just gone on to the rocks and the fore-topmast evidently snapped with the shock." "And the smoke? Is that from the forecastle?" He shook his head, and stood up in the boat, after handing me the lines, while he remained scanning the vessel attentively. "Hail her, Jones," he said to the bowman; and the man jumped up, put his hands to his mouth, and roared out, "_Ship ahoy_!" This again and again, but all was silent; and a curious feeling of awe crept over me as I gazed at the barque lying there on the reef as if it were dead, while the column of smoke, which now looked much bigger, twisted and writhed as it rolled over and over up from just abaft the broken foremast. "Steady," cried the lieutenant; "the water's getting shoal. Keep a good look-out forward, Jones." For all at once the water in front of us, from being smooth and oily, suddenly became agitated, and I saw that we had startled and were driving before us a shoal of good-sized fish, some of which, in their eagerness to escape, sprang out of the water and fell back with a splash. "Plenty yet, sir," said the man in the bows, standing up now with the boat-hook. "Good fathom under us." "Right. Steady, my lads." We were only about a hundred yards from the barque now, and the water deepened again, showing that we had been crossing a reef; but the bottom was still visible, as I glanced once over the side, but only for a moment, for there was a peculiar saddening attraction about the silent ship, and I don't know how it was, but I felt as if I was going to see something dreadful. Under the lieutenant's directions, I steered the boat so that we glided round to the other side, passing under the stern, and then ran alongside, with the bulwarks hanging over towards us, and made out that the vessel had evidently been in fairly deep water close by, and had been run on to the rocks where two reefs met and closed-in a deep channel. How are we going to get on board? I asked myself, as I looked upward; but I was soon made aware of that, for right forward there was a quantity of the top-hamper of the broken mast with a couple of the square sails awash, so that there was no difficulty about scrambling up. "I don't think there is any one on board, Herrick," said Mr Brooke, "but sailors should always be on the _qui vive_. Stay in the boat, if you like." "I don't like, sir," I said, as soon as he had given orders to four men to follow us, and the next minute we were climbing up to stand upon the deck. "No doubt about it," said Mr Brooke through his teeth. "She has been plundered, and then left to drift ashore or to burn." For there from the forehold curled up the pillar of smoke we had seen, and a dull crackling noise came up, telling that, though slowly, the fire was steadily burning. We could not see much below for the smoke, and Mr Brooke led the way forward to the forecastle hatch, which lay open. "Below! Any one there?" cried my officer, but all was silent as the grave. One of the men looked at him eagerly. "Yes, jump down." The man lowered himself down into the dark forecastle, and made a quick inspection. "Any one there?" "No, sir. Place clear and the men's kits all gone." "Come up." We went aft, to find the hatches all off and thrown about anyhow, while the cargo had been completely cleared out, save one chest of tea which had been broken and the contents had scattered. "No mistake about it, Herrick," said Mr Brooke; and he went on to the after-hatch, which was also open and the lading gone. The next minute we were at the companion-way, and Mr Brooke hailed again, but all was still. Just then the man peering over my shoulder sniffed sharply like some animal. The sound sent a shudder through me, and Mr Brooke turned to the man sharply-- "Why did you do that?" "Beg pardon, sir," stammered the man; "I thought that--as if--there was--" He did not finish. "Come on," said Mr Brooke sternly, while I shuddered again, and involuntarily my nostrils dilated as I inhaled the air, thinking the while of a butchered captain and officers lying about, but there was not the faintest odour, and I followed my officer, and then for a moment a horrible sickening sensation attacked me, and I shuddered. But it all passed off, and, myself again directly, I was gazing with the others at the many signs which told us as plainly as if it had been written, that the crew of the unfortunate barque had barricaded themselves in here and made a desperate resistance, for her broken doors lay splintered and full of the marks made by axes and heavy swords. The seats were broken; and bulkheads, cabin windows, and floor were horribly stained here and there with blood, now quite dry and black, but which, after it had been shed, had been smeared about and trampled over; and this in one place was horribly evident, for close up to the side, quite plain, there was the imprint of a bare foot--marked in blood--a great wide-toed foot, that could never have worn a shoe. "Rather horrid for you, Herrick," said Mr Brooke in a low voice, as if the traces of death made him solemn; "but you must be a man now. Look, my lad, what the devils--the savage devils--have done with our poor Scotch brothers!" "Yes, I see," I whispered; "they must have killed them all." "But I mean this--there, I mean." I looked at him wonderingly as he pointed to the floor, for I did not understand. The next moment, though, I grasped his meaning, and saw plainly enough what must have happened, for from where we stood to the open stern windows there were long parallel streaks, and I knew that, though they were partially trampled out by naked feet, as if they had been passed over dozens of times since, the savage wretches must have dragged their victims to the stern windows and thrust them out; any doubt thereon being cleared away by the state of the lockers and the sills of the lights. Just then a peculiar hissing sound came to my ears, and I faced round quickly, as did Mr Brooke, for I felt startled. For there behind me was one of our men--a fine handsome Yorkshire lad of three or four and twenty--standing glaring and showing his set teeth, and his eyes with the white slightly visible round the iris. His left fist was firmly clenched, and in his right was his bare cutlass, with the blade quivering in his strong hand. "Put up your cutlass, my lad," said Mr Brooke sternly; and the man started and thrust it back. "Wait a bit--but I don't know how I am to ask you to give quarter to the fiends who did all this. No wonder the place is so silent, Herrick," he added bitterly. "Come away." He led us out, but not before we had seen that the cabins had been completely stripped. We did not stay much longer, but our time was long enough to show us that everything of value had been taken, and nothing left in the way of log or papers to tell how the barque had fallen in with the wretches. The crew had probably been surprised, and after a desperate resistance, when driven back into the cabin, fought to the last with the results we had seen. "But surely they must have killed or wounded some of the pirates?" I said. "Possibly," replied Mr Brooke; "but there has been rain since; perhaps a heavy sea, too, has washed over the deck and swept away all traces here. Let's hope they made some of them pay dearly for their work." A short inspection below showed that the barque's planking was crushed in, and that she was hopelessly damaged, even if she could have been got off, so soon after Mr Brooke gave the word to return to the boat. "I shall not touch the fire," he said. "If the captain has any wishes the boat can return. For my part I should say, let her burn." The captain listened with his brow contracted to Mr Brooke's recital, when we were back on board; I being close at hand, ready to answer a few questions as well. "Yes, let her burn," said the captain; and then he turned his back to us, but seemed to recollect himself directly, for he turned again. "Thank you, Mr Brooke," he said. "Very clear and concise. You could not have done better." Then turning to the first lieutenant, he said in a low voice-- "Reardon, I'm at my wit's end. The wretches are too cunning for us. What are we to do?" CHAPTER SEVEN. BEING PRIMED. There was a consultation in the cabin that evening, as we lay there about four miles from the stranded barque. It had fallen calm, and, as there was no urgency, the captain preferred to spare the coals, and we waited for a breeze. I heard afterwards from Mr Brooke all that took place during the discussion, during which the captain heard the principal officers' opinions, and then decided what he would do. There had been doubts before as to whether we were on the right track for the pirates, who might be carrying on their murderous business elsewhere, but the day's discovery had cleared away the last doubt; it was plain that the information which had sent us up in the neighbourhood of Amoy was perfectly correct, that the wretches were there, and that our presence had kept them quiet till now. The great difficulty, it was decided, lay in the manner of dealing with people who without doubt had plenty of spies out in native craft, who were passed unnoticed by us, and thus every movement was carefully conveyed to the enemy. As, then, the appearance of the gunboat was sufficient to keep them in hiding, and also as the moment we were out of sight the pirates issued from their lair, only two ways of dealing with the fiends remained to us, and these means, after due consultation, were to be adopted--one or both. Then it had been arranged that the next morning at daybreak a couple of boats were to be despatched to the Scotch barque, for a more thorough investigation as to whether, in Mr Brooke's rather hurried visit, he had passed over any cargo worthy of salvage, and to collect material for a full report for the authorities and the owners. This had just been decided upon, when there was a shout from one of the look-out men. It was quite unnecessary, for nearly every one on deck saw the cause of the cry. We three companions had been watching the wreck with its spiral of smoke, which in the calm air rose up like the trunk of a tall tree, and then all at once spread out nearly flat to right and left, giving it quite the appearance of a gigantic cedar. Then, as one of the witnesses of the horrors on board, I had had to repeat my story again; and, while matters were being discussed below, we in a low tone had our debate on the question, and saw too how the men gathered in knots, and talked in whispers and watched the barque. And to us all one thing was evident, that could our lads only get a chance at the pigtailed, ruffianly scum of the east coast, it would go pretty hard with them. "I'll bet many of 'em wouldn't go pirating again in a hurry," Barkins said; and we agreed. Then we fell to wondering how many poor creatures had been murdered by them in their bloodthirsty career, and why it was that there should be such indifference to death, and so horrible a love of cruelty and torture, in the Chinese character. All at once came the shout, and we were gazing at the cause. For a bright, clear burst of flame suddenly rose from the direction of the ship--not an explosion, but a fierce blaze--and it was evident that the parts around the little fire had grown more and more heated and dry, and that the smouldering had gone on till some part of the cargo beneath, of an inflammable nature, had caught at last, and was burning furiously. We expected that orders would be given for boats to be lowered, but we had drifted in the current so far away that there was a risky row amongst shoals, so no orders were given, the men gathering on deck to watch the light glow which lit up the cloud of smoke hovering overhead. We three watched it in silence for some time, with the other officers near, and at last Smith said-- "I don't think I'm a cruel sort of fellow, but I feel as if I should like to kill some one now." He did not say a Chinese pirate, but he meant it; and I must confess to feeling something of the kind, for I thought how satisfactory it would be to aim one of our big guns at a pirate junk taken in some cruel act, and to send a shot between wind and water that would sink her and rid the seas of some of the fiends. I quite started the next moment, for Barkins said, in a low, thoughtful voice-- "How do you feel about it, Gnat? Shouldn't you like to kill some of 'em?" The question was so direct, and appealed to my feelings so strongly, that for some moments I was silent. "Not he," said Smith; "old Gnat wouldn't stick a pin in a cockroach." "Of course I wouldn't," I said stoutly, "but I'd crush it under my foot if I found one in the cabin." "One for you, Blacksmith," said Barkins. "Look here, Gnat, you would like to kill some of the piratical beggars, wouldn't you?" I remained silent again. "There," said Smith, "I told you so. If we caught a lot, Gnat would give them a lecture, and tell them they had been very naughty, and that they mustn't do so any more or he would be very angry with them indeed." "Punch his head, Gnat." I made no reply to their flippant remarks, for just then I felt very solemn and thoughtful. I hope I was not priggish. No, I am sure I was not; every word I uttered was too sincere, though they chaffed me afterwards, and I have thought since that they felt more seriously than they spoke. "You chaps didn't go on board that barque," I said quietly; "I did." "Yes; old Dishy's making a regular favourite of you, Gnat," said Barkins. But I went on without heeding, my eyes fixed on the burning vessel whose flames shone brightly in the clear air. "And when I saw the splintered wood and chopped doorway, and the smears and marks of blood, it all seemed to come to me just as it must have been when the poor fellows shut themselves up in the cabin." "Did they?" said Smith eagerly. "Yes, that was plain enough," I said; "and they must have fought it out there till the pirates got the upper hand." "I bet tuppence the beggars pitched stinkpots down through the cabin skylight, and half-smothered them," said Barkins excitedly. "I daresay they did," I replied thoughtfully, "for I did see one of the lockers all scorched and burned just by the deck. Yes, it all seemed to come to me, and I felt as if I could see all the fighting, with the Chinamen hacking and chopping at them with their long swords, the same as those brutes did at us; and all those poor fellows, who were quietly going about their business, homeward bound with their cargo, must have had friends, wives or mothers or children; and it gets horrible when you think of how they must have been in despair, knowing that those wretches would have no mercy on them." "Yes, but how it must have made 'em fight," cried Smith. "I think I could have done something at a time like that." "Yes, it would make any fellow fight; even you, Gnat." "I suppose so," I said, "for it made me feel as if there wasn't any room in the world for such people." "There ain't," said Barkins. "Oh, if our chaps could only get a good go at 'em!" "And then I felt," I went on, "as if it couldn't all be real, and that it was impossible that there could be such wretches on the face of the earth, ready to kill people for the sake of a bit of plunder." "But it's just precious possible enough," said Smith slowly. "Why, out here in China they do anything." "Right," said Barkins; "and I hope the skipper will pay them in their own coin. My! how she burns." "Yes," assented Smith, as the barque, after smouldering so long, now blazed, as if eager to clear away all traces of the horrible tragedy. "You'll recollect all about that cabin, Gnat, if we do get at the beggars--won't you?" "Recollect?" I said, with a shiver; "I shall never be able to forget it." Then we relapsed into silence, and stood resting our arms over the bulwarks, gazing at the distant fire, in which I could picture plainly all the horrors and suggestions of the wrecked cabin. I even seemed to see the yellow-faced wretches, all smeared with blood, dragging their victims to the stern windows. And my imagination then ran riot for a time, as I fancied I saw them seizing men not half-dead, but making a feeble struggle for their lives, and begging in agonising tones for mercy, but only to be struck again, and pitched out into the sea. I fancy that I must have been growing half hysterical as the scene grew and grew before me, till I had pictured one poor wretch clinging in his despair to the edge of the stern window, and shrieking for help. There was a curious sensation as if a ball was rising in my throat to choke me, and I was forgetting where I stood, when I was brought back to myself by the voice of my messmate Smith, who said in a husky whisper-- "Think we shall come across any of the poor fellows floating about?" "Not likely," replied Barkins. "Too many sharks in these seas." My throat felt dry at this horrible suggestion, but I knew how true it was. And then once more there was silence, and, like the rest--officers and men--we stood there watching the burning wreck hour after hour, not a soul on board feeling the slightest disposition to go below. It must have been quite a couple of hours later, when I started in the darkness, for something touched my arm, and, looking sharply to my right, I could just make out the figure of Ching close to me, while on looking in the other direction I found that I was alone, for Barkins and Smith had gone forward to a group close to the bows. "You, Ching?" I said, "looking at the mischief your friends have done?" "Fliends burnee ship? No fliends. Velly bad men. Ching feel allee shame. Velly bad men evelywhere. Killee, get dollar. No velly bad men, London?" "I'm afraid there are," I said sadly. "Yes; velly bad men, London. Killee get dollar. You choppee off bad men head?" "No," I said; "but they kill them if they commit murder." "Commit murder? You mean killee get dollar?" "Yes." "Allee light. Plenty bad men evelywhere. Captain going kill pilate?" "If we can catch them," I said. "Yes, velly hard catchee catchee. Captain never catchee in ship. Pilate allee lun away. 'Flaid of big gun. Get two big junk, put plenty sailor boy where pilate can't see. Then pilate come along kill and burnee. Junk steal all along. Jolly sailor jump up and cut allee pilate head off." "Send that boy forward!" cried a stern voice, which made me jump again. "Who's that?" "Herrick, sir," I said, touching my cap, for the captain came forward out of the darkness. "Then you ought to know better, sir. The scoundrel has no business in this part of the ship. What does he want?" "I beg pardon, sir; he came up to propose a way of trapping the pirates." "Eh, what?" said the captain eagerly. "Bah! absurd. Send him below; I hate to see the very face of a Chinaman. No; stop! He ought to know something of their tricks. What does he say?" I told him, and he stood there as if thinking. "Well, I don't know, Mr Herrick. We might perhaps lure them out of their hiding-places in that way, with a couple of Chinese crews to work the junks. But no; the wretches would be equally strong, and would fight like rats. Too many of my poor lads would be cut down. They would have us at a terrible disadvantage. We must keep to the ship. I can only fight these wretches with guns." He was turning away, when a thought struck me, and, forgetting my awe of the captain, and the fact that a proposal from a midshipman to such a magnate might be resented as an unheard-of piece of impertinence, I exclaimed excitedly-- "I beg pardon, sir." "Yes?" "I think I know how it could be done." "Eh? You, Mr Herrick! Pooh! Stop," he said sharply, as, feeling completely abashed, I was shrinking away, when he laid his hand kindly on my shoulder. "Let's hear what you mean, my boy. The mouse did help the lion in the fable, didn't he?" "Yes, sir." "Not that I consider myself a lion, Mr Herrick," he said good-humouredly, "and I will not insult you by calling you a mouse; but these Chinese fiends are too much for me, and I really am caught in the net. Here, send that man forward, and come into my cabin." "Ching, go right up to the forecastle," I said. "No wantee go s'eep," he said angrily. "Makee Ching bad see ship burned." "Never mind now; go and wait," I whispered; and he nodded and went off, while I walked hurriedly back to the captain, who led the way to his cabin. Before I had gone many steps I had to pass Smith, who came quickly up to me. "Hallo! old chap," he whispered, "what have you been up to now? Wigging from the skipper? I'll go and tell the Tanner, and we'll get clean handkerchiefs for a good cry." CHAPTER EIGHT. MY PLAN. "Shut the door, Mr Herrick," said the captain, as he threw himself into a chair, and I obeyed and remained standing there. "Come close up to the table, my lad, and I'll hear what you have to say, for I should be sorry to discourage a young officer who was in earnest about his profession, as I have noted that you seem to be." "Thank you, sir," I faltered, as I walked forward to where the swinging lamp cast its full light on my face, making my eyes ache, after being so many hours in the darkness, while I noticed that the captain sat in the shade. "Now, Mr Herrick," he said, "I talked of one fable, let me say a word about another. I hope this is not going to be a case of the mountain in labour, and out crept a mouse." This put me quite out of heart, my hands grew damp, and I felt a tickling sensation of dew forming upon my temples and at the sides of my nose. My throat felt dry, and my lips parted, but no words came. "There, there," he said kindly, "don't be afraid. Speak out." "Yes, sir," I said hastily. "It was only this. I think I read somewhere once, in a paper, about a Malay prahu being taken by the captain of a ship pretending to be helpless, and this made the prahu, which could sail twice as fast as his ship, come close up to attack him." "Yes; and what then?" "The captain sunk the prahu, sir." "Humph!" said Captain Thwaites, frowning and leaning back in his chair. "That's what I should like to do to the piratical junks, Mr Herrick. But--" He stopped, and I saw that he was watching me keenly. But he had not ordered me out of the cabin, nor called me an impertinent puppy, so I felt better. The plunge had been made, and I waited not quite so nervously for his next words. "Yes--what I should like to do, Mr Herrick; but I am dealing with cunning Chinese, and not with bold Malays." "No, sir," I said; "but could not we--you--I mean we--I mean--" I stammered. "Come, come, Mr Herrick, there is no need for all this tremor. Sit down, my lad." "Thank you, sir; I would rather stand, please. I think I could talk better." "Very well, then," he said, smiling; "stand. You have some notion in your head, then?" "Yes, sir," I said eagerly, for the nervousness all passed away in the excitement I felt. "I thought that if I could do as I liked, I'd take the _Teaser_ up some creek where she couldn't be watched, and then I'd close all the ports, send the men over the side to paint out the streak, and I'd paint the funnel another colour, and get yards all anyhow, and hide all the guns. I'd make her look like one of the tea-screws, and get a lot of Chinamen on board for sailors." I saw that he kept on bowing his head, and I was so excited that I went on. "No, I know. If you tried to get some Chinese sailors on board, it would be talked about, and perhaps the pirates would get to know, for they must have friends in some of the ports." "Then down go some of your baits, my lad." "No, sir. I know. You could make Ching--" "That Chinese interpreter?" "Yes, sir. Make him do up some of our lads with pigtails made of blackened oakum, and in duck-frocks they'd do at a distance." "Heads not shaven?" "No, sir; but they could have their hair cut very short, and then painted white--I mean yellow, so that the pirates wouldn't know at a distance." "Humph! anything else?" said the captain drily, but I did not notice it; I was too much taken up by my ideas. "Yes, sir. Ching could be going about very busily in all directions, showing himself a great deal, and there's no mistake about him." "No," said the captain, "there is no mistake about him." "And it wouldn't be a bad plan to be at anchor near the place where you thought they were, sir, with some of the spars down as if you were repairing damages. That would make them feel sure that they were safe of a prize, and they'd come off in their boats to attack." "And then you would let them board us and find out their mistake?" "That I wouldn't, sir!" I cried eagerly; and, oddly enough, my side began to ache where I had had that blow. "I wouldn't risk any of our poor fellows being hurt. I'd sink them before they got alongside." "Humph! Well, you're pretty bloodthirsty for your time of life, young gentleman," said the captain quietly. "No, sir," I replied in confusion; "but I was with Mr Barkins and Mr Smith, and nearly killed by these people, and yesterday I saw what they had done aboard that barque." "There? So you did, my lad. Well," he said, "what more have you got to suggest?" "I think that's all, sir," I said, beginning to grow confused again, for my enthusiasm was dying out before his cool, matter-of-fact way of taking matters. "Then we will bring this meeting to an end, Mr Herrick." "Yes, sir," I said dolefully, for I was wishing intensely that I had not said a word. "Shall I go now?" "If you please, Mr Herrick." "Good-night, sir." "Good-night, Mr Herrick; and the sooner you are in your berth the better." "Yes, sir," I said; and then to myself, as I reached the door, "and I wish I had gone there at once, instead of stopping on deck." "Stop!" I turned with the door-handle in my fingers. "You had better not say anything about the communication you have made to me--I mean to your messmates." "No, sir, I will not," I replied. "Nor to any one else, least of all to that Chinaman." "Oh no, sir, I'll be careful." He nodded, and I slipped out, feeling, to use an old expression, "horrid." "Tell anybody about what a stupid donkey I've been," I said angrily--"likely." Then to myself, as soon as I was past the marine sentry, "Why, it would be nuts for Tanner and Blacksmith, and they'd go on cracking them for ever. There was I all red-hot with what I thought was a good thing, and he was just like a cold codfish laughing at me." I could not help smiling at the absurdity of my idea, for I recalled that I had never seen a cold codfish laughing. I had no more time for musing then, for I received a sharp slap on the back from Barkins. "Never mind, Gnat; we all get it some time." I saw that Smith was hurrying up, for I caught sight of him by the light of one of the swinging lanterns, and had to be on my guard. I did not want to deceive my messmates nor to be untruthful, but I could not open my heart to them and tell them all that had passed. "What cheer, messmet?" whispered Smith. "Had a wigging?" I nodded my head sulkily. "What had you been up to? Skipper had you into the cabin, didn't he?" "Let him alone, will you," cried Barkins. "What do you want to worry the poor chap for? The skipper's had him over the coals." "Well, I know that, Bark. But what for?" "What's that to you? Let him alone." "But he might tell." "Well, he isn't going to tell. If you must know, the Grand Panjandrum came and catched him talking to Squeezums, hanging over the bulwarks together." "Talking to who?" "Well then, to Teapot, old Chinese Ching, and snubbed him for having the Yellow-skin so far aft. Didn't he, Gnat?" "Yes," I said, quite truthfully. "Then I say it's too bad," cried Smith. "As the snob speakers say, are we--er--serlaves? Besides, `a man's a man for a' that,' ain't he, Tanner?" "Chinamen have no business abaft the funnel," said Barkins. "Did he give it to you very warmly, Gnat?" "Pretty well," I said, glad to escape Smith's examination. "I wasn't sorry to get out of the cabin." "No, I should think not. Why, what's come to the old boy--taking to bully us himself? I thought he always meant to leave that to Dishy." "He's getting wild at not catching the pirates, I suppose," said Barkins. "Then all that badger gets bottled up in him, and he lets it off at us. Well, I don't see any fun in watching the fire; I'm going down for a snooze." "Wish I could," said Smith. "The fellow who invented night-watches ought to have been smothered. I daresay he was a man who had something the matter with him and couldn't sleep. I hate it." "Pooh!" cried Barkins, laughing. "You haven't got used to it yet, old chap. It's an acquired taste. After a bit you won't care a dump for a regular night's rest, but'll want to get up and take your turn. Won't he, Gnat?" I laughed. "I haven't got the right taste yet," I said. "And never will," grumbled Smith, as we turned to have another look at the burning barque. "How long will a ship like that be burning, Jecks?" I said to one of the watch. The man scratched his head, and had a good stare at the glowing object in the distance, as if he were making a careful calculation. "Well," said Barkins, "out with it, Tom Jecks; we don't want to know to two minutes and a half." "Well, sir," said the man very deliberately, "I should say as a wessel o' that size--" "There goes her mainmast!" some one shouted, as a portion of the fire fell off to our left, and lay in the sea. We stood gazing at this part for a few minutes, during which the light faded slowly out, quenched in the waves. Then Jecks began again, speaking very oracularly-- "I should say as a wessel o' that size--" "Yes," said Barkins, imitating him; "a wessel o' that size--" "Yes, sir--might go on burning till 'bout eight bells." "Or perhaps a little longer, Tom?" "Well, yes, sir; little longer, perhaps. 'Morrow night, say." "Or 'morrow morning, Tom?" "Well, no, sir; because you see it's 'morrow morning now." "I meant t'other 'morrow morning, Tom. Nex' day." "Well, yes, sir; she might last till then." "Or even next day?" "Well, sir, I hayve knowed 'em go on mouldering and smouldering for days and days." "A week, perhaps?" "Oh yes, sir, quite a week." "Thankye, Tom," said Barkins, giving me a nudge with his elbow. "I thought you'd know. Nothing like going to a man who has had plenty of experience." "No, sir, there ain't nothin' like it; and I should say as if you young gen'lemen was to stand here and watch, you'd finally see that there wessel give a bit of a roll to starboard and one to port, and then settle down and go out of sight all to oncet, like putting a stingwisher on a candle; and there! what did I tell yer?" For all at once the blaze rose quite high, as if it were driven upwards by some explosion below. We saw what looked like tiny sparks falling all around, and some of them floating upon the sea, and then there was the sound as of a puff of wind--heavy and short; and, where the barque had lain blazing and sending up its great waving tongue of fire, there was now darkness, save here and there a few dull specks of light, which went out one by one. "The last act of a tragedy," said a voice close by us; and Mr Brooke, who had the watch, stood gazing at the dark waters for a few moments. Then in his quiet, decided tones-- "Now, Mr Barkins--Mr Herrick, it is not your watch. You had better go below." "Yes, sir; good-night, sir." "Good-morning, you mean," he replied; and we two went down and turned in. "I say, Gnat," cried Barkins in a sleepy voice; "old Tom Jecks'll be more chuckle-bumptious than ever." "Yes," I said; "that happened just right for him." "Yes, that's the luck that kind of bumble-head always gets. He'll set up--now--for--_snore_--set up for--oh, how sleepy I am! What say?" "I didn't speak," I replied drowsily. "Who said you did? Oh, I remember now. Tom Jecks'll set up for boss-- know--all now. Look here--you help me, and we'll gammon him into--be-- believing--he ought to make an alma--alma--nick--nack,"--_snore_. Barkins was fast asleep, and I was just thinking how suddenly a drowsy person dropped off, when all at once I seemed to be back in the cabin of the burned ship, where I was searching the lockers for pirates, and then some one hauled me out of my berth by one leg, and I raised myself on my elbow to stare wildly at Smith. CHAPTER NINE. PREPARATIONS. "At last!" he cried. "I began to think your eyelids were sewed up. Dress yourself, sir; do you hear? Do you suppose that the junior officers of the _Teaser_ are kept here on purpose to set a bad example to the men?" "Breakfast ready?" I said, yawning. "Of course it is, sir. Kidneys and fried soles done to a shade. Fresh water-cresses, hot rolls, and all kinds of don't-you-wish-you-may-get-'ems, waiting. I say, look at old Tanner. Let's rouse him up." I rose slowly, and, with the customary malignity of one rudely wakened from sleep, began to feel a grim satisfaction in seeing my messmate robbed of his repose in turn. "Cold pig?" suggested Smith. "No, no; don't," I said. "It makes the place so wet." "All right. Come here, then." I was about to join him, when the peculiar vibration going on made me turn sharply to Smith. "Hallo!" I said. "What's the matter?" "Under steam again?" "Yes. Orders came soon after daylight, and we're going south with our tail between our legs. Skipper seems to think it's of no use trying any longer; and you mark my words, as soon as we're gone those beggars will come out of their creeks and begin murdering and burning every trading vessel they can catch." "I am sorry," I said, as I recalled my interview with the captain. "Sorry! I should think you are. So are we all. It's a shame, that's what it is, Gnat." "It seems to be a pity, because we might run against them some time." "Run against them! Why, of course. The scent's hot now. Oh, I only wish I was captain of this ship!" "Wish you were, Smithy," said Barkins, yawning. "Oh, you're awake at last, are you?" "Of course I am. Who's to sleep with you yelping about like that. I say, if you were skipper, we'd share the cabin with you, and have a jolly time of it--eh?" "Oh, would you?" cried Smith. "We'd see about that. I tell you what, though, if I was skipper, this gunboat shouldn't leave the station while there was a pirate on the east coast." "Well, there won't be when we've done. I say--oh dear me!--how is it the legs of your trousers will get tangled when you want to put 'em on in a hurry." "'Cause you put 'em on with your eyes tangled up. Hear that?" "What, you gabbling?" "No; the screw at work." "Eh? Yes. What does it mean?" "We're going back." "No!" "We are--full speed." "Without yard-arming the beggars who took that ship." "Yes; ain't it a shame?" Barkins made no answer, but kept on dressing--snatching on his clothes, so to speak; and when we went on deck that bright, fine morning, there was a lowering look upon every face; and the officers were all snappish, the men discontented, and scowling at the two figures marching up and down the quarter-deck side by side. I felt disappointed, for we had been looking forward to the exciting moments when we should first overhaul some piratical junk. Of course I knew that there might be some danger, but I foresaw very little: our well-armed ship, with its strong, highly-disciplined crew, would over-ride every opposition offered by the half-savage Chinamen, I felt sure; and, like most people in the service, I felt that, if any one was hurt, it would be some one else. And now there was to be no further search for the pirates. We were going south again, probably to Hong-Kong; and I was sick of hot Hong-Kong, and doing nothing but drill. I partook, then, of the general feeling of dissatisfaction that morning; and, feeling quite glum and vexed with myself, I leaned over the taffrail and gazed down at the bright, clear water in search of fish. "I wish I hadn't spoken as I did last night," I said to myself later on; and I was going over the whole scene in the cabin, and thinking of what a noodle I must have looked, when I heard my name uttered in the captain's short, sharp voice. I turned and saluted, to find that Mr Reardon had gone forward. "I only want to repeat my caution to you, Mr Herrick," said the captain. "You will not say a word to any one about your visit to me last night." "No, sir," I said. "You have not spoken to your messmates?" "No, sir; not a word." "But they asked you why I summoned you to my cabin?" "Yes, sir; but they think it was to snub--reprove me, sir, for making so much of the Chinaman." "Oh, I see. But snub would have done, Mr Herrick. Reprove sounds pedantic. That will do, but bear in mind my wishes." "Oh, there you are, Mr Herrick," said the first lieutenant, a few minutes later. "I want you. Find that Chinaman and the ship's tailor, and bring them both to my cabin." "Yes, sir," I said, wondering; and I hunted them out, told them to follow me, and led the way to Mr Reardon's cabin. "Shut the door," he said sharply. I obeyed, and the lieutenant consulted a scrap of paper upon which he had pencilled a few memoranda. "Now, tailor," he said, "you will have an order for a sufficiency of white duck." "Yes, sir." "And by this time to-morrow I want twenty loose frocks cut and made after the fashion of this man's blue cotton blouse thing." "Couldn't be done, sir, in the time," said the tailor respectfully. "They must be done, my man. I don't care how roughly they are made, nor how badly sewn, but they must be cut to this pattern. Get as many men as you require to sew, and begin work at once. I'll send this boy to you soon, for you to get the pattern of his garment." The tailor saluted, and went off wondering; while I wondered no less, as I stood waiting with Ching for what was to come; but for some moments Mr Reardon sat there studying his notes. All at once he looked up sharply. "Now, Ching," he said, "can you understand all I say?" The Chinaman nodded. "Then look here: I have ordered twenty duck-frocks, as you heard." "Yes, sir. Velly like Chinaman." "Exactly. Well, these are for twenty of our men to wear. I want them to look like Chinese." Ching shook his head. "Blue flock," he said; "all blue, no white." "We have no blue, and the white must do." "Velly well." "That point is settled, then. Now, then, about their heads." "Cut hair all off, and glow pigtail." "That would take years, my man, and I wanted them ready to-morrow." "How glow pigtail one day?" cried Ching scornfully; and pulling round his own, he held it out, fully four feet in length--a long black plait, with a bit of ribbon tying it at the end. "Thi'ty yea' long," said Ching. "No one day." "You must get some oakum, and dye it black. Plait it up, and fasten that on the men's heads." "With bit o' stling," said Ching, nodding his head. "Go act play--make fleatre 'board ship?" "Yes, we are going to act a play," said the lieutenant sternly; and I felt the blood come into my face with excitement. "Shave men's head--shave face; makee look allee same Chinaman." "Oh, we can manage that," said Mr Reardon, giving me a meaning look. "You can pick out men and boys enough, Mr Herrick, to make twenty smooth-faced ones." "Yes, sir, I think so," I said. "Then something must be mixed up, whiting and tallow ought to do it." "Yes, Ching see; makee head velly white." "That will do, then." "No," said Ching sharply. "No tlouser, no boot?" "That will not matter, my man, so long as they are right in their upper rigging." "Light in upper ligging!" said Ching. "Ah, you go cheat, gammon pilate?" Mr Reardon gave him an angry look. "You go and do--no, stop. You are quite right, my man, but don't talk about it. Get the work done." "Ching see. Make nineteen twenty men look like Chinese boy. Pilate come along, say, `Big tea-ship. Come aboard,' and get catchee likee lat in tlap." "Yes, that's it, my man. Do you think it a good plan, Mr Herrick?" he added drily. "Oh yes, sir," I cried excitedly. "May we begin at once?" "Ye-es," said the lieutenant thoughtfully. "I think that's all you can do. Yes," he said decidedly; "take the job in hand, Mr Herrick, and help it along. I want to have twenty men looking like a Chinese crew by to-morrow." "Come along, Ching." "Yes," he said. "Do it velly well. Chinese pilate velly cunning fellow. You go gettee two junk, put men on board." "You go and get the men ready," said Mr Reardon shortly. "That will do." Directly after I had Ching supplied from the purser's stores with plenty of fine oakum and a couple of bottles of ink. This latter he made boiling hot and poured over the oakum, hanging it to dry by the cook's fire; and while he was doing this I arranged with the cook to have a bucket of tallow and whiting mixed ready for use when required, so that then all necessary would be to warm it up. I was just going aft again when "Herrick" was shouted, and I turned, to see Barkins and Smith coming after me. But Mr Reardon heard the hail, and came striding after us. "You leave Mr Herrick to the business he is on, young gentlemen, and attend to your own," he cried. "Go on, Mr Herrick. This is no time for gossiping." I hurried off, and began my next task, that of selecting twenty men without beards; and there was no difficulty, for I soon picked sixteen and four big lads, upon whose heads the ship's barber was set to work to cut the hair pretty short, the men submitting with an excellent grace, Jack being ready enough to engage in anything fresh, and such as would relieve the monotony of shipboard life. They were ready enough to ask questions, but I had nothing to tell; and the preparations went merrily on, but not without my having learned that we were steaming right away out of sight of land. But long before we had reached this pitch, I found that orders had been given, and the men were busy up aloft, lowering down the main-topgallant mast, and then laying the maintop mast all askew, as if it were snapped off at the top. After which the yards were altered from their perfect symmetry to hang anyhow, as if the ship were commanded by a careless captain. The engine was set to work to squirt water thickened with cutch, and the beautiful white sails were stained in patches, and then roughly furled. Towards evening, when the sea appeared to be without a sail in sight, we lay-to; platforms were got over the side, and men hung over with their paint-pots and brushes, working with all their might to paint out the streak, while others smeared over the gilding and name at the stern, but with a thin water-colour which would easily wash off. Then came the turn of the great funnel, which was painted of a dirty black. The bright brass rails were dulled, ropes hung loosely, and in every way possible the trim gunboat was disfigured and altered, so that at a short distance even it would have been impossible to recognise her as the smart vessel that had started from the neighbourhood of the burned ship so short a time before. But even then Mr Reardon did not seem to be satisfied, for he set the men to work hauling water casks from the hold, and make a pile of them amidships. Lastly, a couple of the boats were turned bottom upward on improvised chocks placed over the deck-house and galley. I have not mentioned the guns, though. These were completely hidden, the lesser pieces being drawn back, and spare sails thrown over the two big guns forward. "There," said Mr Reardon quietly to me; "what do you say to that, Mr Herrick? Think this will deceive them?" "There's one more thing I should do, sir," I said, as I looked aloft. "One more? Nonsense; there is nothing more to be done." "Yes, sir," I said, smiling; "I'd have some shirts and trousers hung up in the rigging to dry, just as if the men had been having a wash." "To be sure," he cried. "What else?" "It wouldn't be bad if we could catch a few big fish, and let them be hanging over the stern rail as if to keep them fresh." "I'll set Mr Barkins and Mr Smith to try and catch some," he said eagerly. "The idea's splendid, my lad; and if it turns out to be successful, I'll--there, I don't know what I won't do for you." Soon after, I had the pleasure of seeing a lot of the men's garments hung on a couple of lines in the rigging, and Barkins and Smith hard at work fishing, in which they were so wonderfully successful that I longed to go and join them; but I was too busy over my task of disguising the twenty sailors, and consequently my two messmates had all the sport to themselves, dragging in, every few minutes, an abundance of good-sized fishes, which were at last strung upon a piece of stout line and hung over the stern rail. That night the crew were all in an intense state of excitement, and roars of laughter saluted my party of sham Chinamen, some of whom were paraded in the newly-made frocks, two being in the full dress of whitened head and pigtail, and looked so exactly like the real thing at a short distance that no doubt was felt as to the success of this part of the proceedings. Officers and men had been a little puzzled at first, but in a very short time they were all talking about the cleverness of the "captain's dodge," as they called it; and the low spirits of the morning gave place to eager talk about the adventures which all felt sure must come now. The ship's head had been turned and laid for the islands we had so lately left; but our progress was purposely made exceedingly slow, the screw just revolving, and the water parting with a gentle ripple to right and left. Meanwhile the tailor and his mates were hard at work by the light of the swinging lanterns, and, upon my being sent by Mr Reardon to make inquiries, the tailor answered that he should be up to time with the twenty Chinee gownds, and went on stitching again as if for his very life. I was on the watch that night, and stood listening for long enough to the yarns of one of the men, who had not been in Chinese waters before, but "knowed a chap as had;" and he had some blood-curdling tales to tell of the cruelties perpetrated by the desperate gangs who haunted the coast in fast-sailing junks. "But they're an awfully cowardly lot, arn't they, Billy?" said another. "Well," said the man, "it's like this, messmet; they is and they arn't, if you can make that out. They'll scuttle away like rats if they can; but if they can't, they'll fight that savage that nothing's like it; and if it is to come to a fight, all I've got to say is, as the chap as hasn't got his cutlash as sharp as ever it can be made 'll be very sorry for it." "Oh, I don't know," said another; "there won't be much cutlashing; 'tain't like it used to was in the old days. Most everything's done with the big guns now; and if they do get alongside to board, why, a man's cutlash is always stuck at the end of his rifle, just as if it was a jolly's bag'net growed out o' knowledge, and then it's all spick and spike." "Maybe," said the man; "but you mark my words, they're a nasty lot when they gets wild, and you'll have to look pretty sharp if you don't want to get hurt." It was not cheering, after a very wearying day and a very short night before, to listen to such talk, and I began to wonder whether the captain would take sufficient precautions to keep the Chinese off, for I felt that to properly carry out the plan, the fighting men must be kept well out of sight till the very last; but I soon came to the conclusion that I need not worry about that, from the spirited way in which everything possible to disguise the ship had been done. Then, as I leaned over the side looking over the black water, in which a faint star could be seen from time to time, I began to smile to myself at the quiet, dry way in which my ideas had been taken up; but I frowned directly after, as I thought of what a little credit I was getting for it all, and that the captain or Mr Reardon might have said an encouraging word or two to show that they appreciated my efforts. It was laughable, too, the way in which I had heard the captain's dodge discussed by Barkins and Smith, who never once associated my summons to the cabin with all that had been done. The time was going along slowly, and I was beginning to feel very drowsy, so I had a walk up and down a few times, and then came suddenly upon something like a big bundle under the weather bulwark. "Why, Ching," I said, "you here?" "Yes; velly hot down below, no sleepee sleepee. Come on deck, nicee cool. You have fightee morrow?" "I hope so," I said; but asked myself the next moment whether I really did hope so. "Velly bad fightee, bad pilates come, and captain killee whole lot. Allee velly bad man, killee evelybody." "Do you think they will come out of hiding?" "Ching don'tee know. Ching thinkee muchee so. Now go sleepee. Velly much tire." He curled himself up, drawing his tail round out of the way, and seemed to go off directly; while I rejoined the officer of the watch, who happened to be Mr Brooke, and we walked right forward to the bows, and saw that the men were keeping a bright look-out. "Well, Herrick," he said, "got your dirk sharp?" "No," I said. "Don't laugh at me, please, Mr Brooke." "Oh no, I will not laugh at you, my lad," he said; "but as it is quite likely that we may have a bit of a scrimmage to-morrow, if the scoundrels are lured out of their holes, and grow desperate on finding that they have made a mistake, you had better keep out of the way." "But--" "Oh yes, I know what you are going to say; but you are very young yet, and what chance would you have against a great strong savage Chinaman-- for there are plenty of powerful fellows among these scoundrels. You must wait a bit before you take to fighting." I felt uncomfortable. He seemed to be looking down upon me so, in spite of my being an officer; but I could not boast of my strength, and remained silent for a time. "Do you think they are likely to get on board, sir?" "Oh no," he said. "We shall not give them a chance. Once the captain is sure that they are the pirates, if we are lucky enough to lure them well out from the shore, the men will be ordered up to the guns, and we shall give them a few broadsides, and sink them." "It sounds horrid, sir," I said. "Then they'll never have a chance to fight us?" "Not if we can help it, my lad. But, as you say, it does sound horrid, and rather cowardly; but what would you do with a poisonous snake? You would not give it a chance to strike at you first, if you met it and had a loaded gun in your hands?" "Of course not, sir," I said quickly. "Well, these wretches are as dangerous as venomous serpents, and, after what you saw on board that barque, you do not think we need be squeamish about ridding the earth of such monsters?" "No, sir, not a bit," I said quickly. "Neither do I, Herrick. I should like to aim the gun that sends a shot through them between wind and water." "Light on the port bow!" announced the look-out forward; and, upon using his night-glass, Mr Brooke made out the vessel, which showed the light to be a large junk, with her enormous matting-sails spread, and gliding along faster than we were, and in the same direction. As we watched the light, it gradually grew fainter, and finally disappeared, while all through our watch the screw kept on its slow motion, just sending the gunboat onward. Toward what? I asked myself several times; and, in spite of my determination to acquit myself manfully if we did go into action, I could not help hoping that the next night would find us all as safe as we were then. But all the same the thoughts of our preparations were well in my mind, and never once did I hope that we should not encounter the enemy. All the same, though, when my watch was at an end and I went below, perhaps it was owing to its being so hot, as Ching said, for it was a long time before I could get off to sleep. CHAPTER TEN. THE ENEMY. "Oh, I say, do wake up and come on deck. It's such a lark." "What is?" I said, rolling out of the berth, with my head feeling all confused and strange, to stare at Barkins. "Why, everything. You never saw such a miserable old rag-bag of a ship in your life." I hurriedly dressed and went on deck, to find the preparations complete, and I could not help thinking that, if the pirates mistook the _Teaser_ for a man-of-war now, they must be clever indeed. For on the previous day I had only seen the alterations in bits, so to speak, but now everything was done, even to having a quantity of coal on deck, and the clean white planks besmirched with the same black fuel. The paint-pots had altered everything; the figure-head was hidden with tarpaulin; the rigging, instead of being all ataunto, was what Smith called "nine bobble square," and one sail had been taken down and replaced by an old one very much tattered, so that up aloft we looked as if we had been having a taste of one of the typhoons which visit the Chinese seas. These preparations, with the men's clothes hanging to dry, the boats badly hauled up to the davits, and the fish hanging over the stern (after the fashion practised in west-country fishing-boats), completely altered the aspect of everything. Then I found that the officers were all in tweeds, with yachting or shooting caps; the bulk of the crew below, and my twenty men and lads all carefully got up with painted heads and pigtails complete, under the charge of Ching, who was bustling about importantly, and he came to me at once and began whispering-- "Captain say, Ching takee care allee men, and show himself evelywhere." "Yes, of course," I said. "Yes. You wanted to say something?" "Yes, Ching want say something." "Well, what is it? Quick, I must go." "Ching want you tell sailor boy be velly careful. Take care of Ching when pilate come." "All right," I said; "but they haven't come yet." "Think big junk pilate." "Which one? where?" I said. He pointed forward to where, about five miles off the lee-bow, a great junk was slowly sailing in the same direction as we were. "Is that the one which passed us in the night?" I said. "Yes." "Why do you think she is a pirate?" "Ching tink why she no sail light away and not stop while man-o'-war clawl along velly slow. You tellee captain." I nodded, and found that there was no need, for the captain was carefully observing the junk from where he was hidden by a pile of casks, and Mr Reardon was with him. "Here, Mr Herrick," he cried, "your eyes are young. Have a look at that junk. Take your uniform cap off, my lad, and, as soon as you have done, take off your jacket and put on a coloured suit." I had a good look through the glass at the junk, and made my report. "I think it's only a big trader, sir," I said. "Looks like the boats we saw at Amoy, and as if she were going up to Wanghai." "Yes, that's it, I think," said Captain Thwaites to Mr Reardon. Then he sharply turned to me and gave me a dry look. "Well, Mr Herrick, you see I have taken your advice, and put my ship in this disgraceful state." "Yes, sir," I said eagerly; "and I hope it will prove successful." "So do I," he said drily. "That will do, Herrick. Now, Mr Reardon, I think we will keep on just as we are, just about four knots an hour. It gives the idea of our being in trouble; and if we keep on close outside the islands, it may draw the scoundrels--that is, if they are there." "Yes, sir, if they are there," said the lieutenant. "How long do you reckon it will take us to get abreast of the reef where that barque lay?" "We ought to be there by noon, sir, I should say." "That will do. We shall seem to be making for Wanghai." I heard no more, but went below, and directly after breakfast reappeared in white flannels and a cricketing cap, a transformation which satisfied the first lieutenant, but displeased Barkins and Smith, who had orders to keep below in uniform. "I hate so much favouritism," grumbled Barkins. "Who are you, Gnat? You're our junior; and here are we kept below, and my lord you parading about the deck, and seeing everything." "Why, you're in the reserve," I said banteringly, "and will have all the fighting to do." "Who wants all the fighting to do?" cried Smith. "I don't. I suppose if we do take a lot of pirate junks, you'll be promoted, and we shan't get a word." "Stuff!" I said. "How can I get promoted?" "But I want to know why you're to be picked out," cried Barkins. "Go and ask the skipper," I said. "Now, look here both of you; if you're not civil, I won't come and report everything. If you are, I'll come down as often as I can to tell you all that is going on." "Oh then, I suppose we must be civil, Smithy," said Barkins sourly, "but we'll serve the beggar out afterwards." I went up on deck again to find that our speed had been slightly increased, but we drew no nearer to the junk, which sailed on exactly in the same course as we were taking, and that seemed strange; but beyond watching her through the telescopes, and seeing that she had only about a dozen men on board--all blue-frocked Chinamen--no further notice was taken of her. Ching was seated right forward, with his blue frock showing well up against the grey white of one of the hanging-down sails, and he had been furnished with a pipe, which he smoked slowly and thoughtfully; half-a-dozen men were in the fore-rigging, making believe to repair damages up aloft; and soon after four more were sent up to begin tinkering at the topmast, which they made great efforts to lower down on deck, but of course got no further. They had orders from the first lieutenant to take it coolly, and coolly they took it, looking like a lazy, loafing set of Chinese sailors, whose intentions were to do as little as they could for their pay. Mr Reardon, in a shooting-suit and straw hat, went about giving orders, and the captain and Mr Brooke had cane seats on the quarter-deck, with a bottle and glasses, and sat sipping beer and smoking cigars, as if they were passengers. Then came long hours of patient--I should say impatient--crawling along over the same course as we had followed the previous day, with no sail in sight but the big junk, which took not the slightest notice of us, nor we of it. There was no doubt whatever, though, of her actions. She kept sailing on at about the same rate as we steamed, evidently for the sake of being in company, and to have a European vessel close at hand to close up to in case of danger from the shores of the mainland, or one of the islands we should pass, for it was an established fact that the pirates seldom attacked ships that were in company. All through the early part of the morning the novelty of the affair interested the men, and there was a constant burst of eager conversation going on, but as noon came, and matters were in the same position, and we still far away from the spot where the barque had been burned, every one grew weary, and I fidgeted myself into a state of perspiration. "It will all turn out wrong," I thought, "and then they will blame me." With these fancies to worry me, I kept away from my messmates as much as I could; and when by accident I encountered either of my superiors, I saw that they looked--or I fancied they did--very stern. "All these preparations for nothing," I said to myself, as I saw the guns all ready, but covered over with tarpaulins, cartridges and shells waiting, and the crews armed and impatient. Dinner had been long over, and I need hardly say that I did not enjoy mine. Some of the men were having a nap, and the heat below must have been very great, for it was scorching on deck. At last we were abreast of the rocky islands dotted here and there, and upon the reef I could just make out a few pieces of the burned vessel. But as I swept the rocky islets and channels and then the horizon, I could not make out a sail, only our companion the junk, with her bows and stern high out of the water, sailing easily along that fine afternoon. Another hour passed, and there were rocky islands on our starboard bow and two astern, but not a sign of inhabitant, only high bluffs, rugged cliffs, and narrow channels between reefs whitened by the constant breaking upon them of a heavy swell. "Rather slow work, Reardon," said the captain, as they two came by where I was at the bulwark, using a small glass. "See anything, Mr Herrick?" "No, sir," I said. "No, sir, indeed; of course you don't," cried the captain impatiently. "Nice trick you've played me, sir. Made me dress up my men and the ship in this tomfool way. There you are using your glass. What have you got to say for yourself, eh?" I could not tell whether he was speaking banteringly or really angrily, and, keeping my glass to my eye in the hope of seeing something to report, I mumbled out some excuse about meaning it for the best. "Best, indeed!" he said pettishly. "Nice objects we look. What do you think the First Lords of the Admiralty would say to me if they could see Her Majesty's gunboat--the finest clipper in the service--in this state? Eh? Why don't you answer, sir?" "I suppose, sir," I cried desperately, "that they would say you were doing your best for the sake of trying to catch the pirates." "Humph! do you, indeed? Well? Anything to report? What's the use of holding that glass to your eye if you can't see anything? Anything to report, I say?" "Yes, sir," I cried breathlessly, and with my heart throbbing heavily, "the junk has run up a little pennon to her mast-head." "She has?" cried Mr Reardon excitedly, and he raised his own glass. "Yes, you're right. Well done, Herrick! There, sir, I told you the lad was right." "Right? when they are signalling to us for water or a bag of rice." "When they have only to heave-to and let us overhaul them, sir," cried Mr Reardon, swinging his glass round and narrowly missing my head. "No, sir, they're signalling to the shore; and before long we shall see another junk come swooping out from behind one of those headlands, to take us in the rear. If they don't, I'm a Dutchman." "Then Dutchman you are, Reardon," said the captain, smiling. "I only wish they would." "Here they come, sir," I cried excitedly--"one--two--yes, there are three." "What? Where?" "You can only see the tops of their sails, sir, over that flat, low island this side of the big cliffs." "Eh! yes." Only those two words, as the captain sighted the slowly-moving objects just indistinctly seen, but they were enough to send a thrill all through the ship. For there was no mistaking the matter. The junk that had been hanging by us all night was a pirate after all, and she had signalled to companions on shore. I could see, too, that she was slightly altering her course. The enemy was at last in sight. CHAPTER ELEVEN. THE FIGHT. "Oh, if I only dared hooray!" I said to myself; and then a flush of pride rose to my cheeks, for the captain gave me a smart clap on the shoulder. "Bravo, Herrick!" he said in quite a whisper. "I thought you were right, my lad, or I shouldn't have done all this. Mr Reardon and I will make a fine officer of you before we have done." "Shall I pass the word down for the men to be on the _qui vive_?" said the lieutenant. The captain laughed, and nodded his head in the direction of the hatches, which were black with peeping heads. "No need, Mr Reardon; there is not a soul on board who does not know. It is no time for making fresh arrangements. We'll keep exactly to our plans. Don't let a man show on deck, for depend upon it they will have a look-out aloft ready to give warning of danger, and we must not give them an excuse for signalling to their confederates to sheer off." "Keep steadily on, then, sir?" "Yes, steadily and stupidly. Let the men go on as before up aloft, and let the rest of the men show their white heads and pigtails at the bulwarks as if they were wondering who the strangers were. Good pressure of steam below?" "Yes, sir, almost too much," said the lieutenant, after communication with the engine-room. "Not a bit," said the captain, rubbing his hands. "We shall want it soon." My heart began to beat as they passed on, and I wondered what would be the first steps taken. But I did not forget my promise. My duties were about nil, and as soon as I had seen the men staring over the bulwarks, and noted that the sham repairs to the rigging were steadily going on, I ran down the companion-way, and breathlessly told Barkins and Smith. "Then there are four of them, Smithy," cried Barkins. "Look here, Gnat; he stuck out that there were only three. But well done, old chap, you are a good one to come and tell us. Here, don't go yet; I want to--" I never heard what he wanted to, for there was too much exciting attraction on the deck, to which, being as it were licensed, I at once returned. The captain and Mr Reardon were on the quarter-deck, conscious that savages as the Chinese or Formosan pirates were, they probably did not despise the barbarian instruments known as telescopes, and that most likely every movement on board the _Teaser_ was being watched. Any suspicious act would be quite sufficient to make them sheer off, and consequently the strictest orders were given to the men to play their parts carefully, and make no movement that was not required. Dressed as I was in flannels, my appearance was thoroughly in keeping with the assumed peaceful character of the ship, and hence I heard and saw nearly everything. Just as I went on the quarter-deck the captain was saying to the first lieutenant-- "Don't be so excitable, man. When I ask you a question, or give an order, take it deliberately, and dawdle off to see it done." "Right through, sir?" said Mr Reardon petulantly. "No," said the captain quietly. "When I give the order, `Full speed ahead,' then you can act. Till then you are mate or passenger, whichever you like, of this dirty-looking trader. Ah, those three low junks, or whatever they are, can creep through the water pretty quickly." "Yes; and the big junk too," said Mr Reardon, using his glass. "It is astonishing how rapidly those great heavily-sailed craft can go. She's full of men, sir," he continued; "I can see more and more beginning to show themselves. Not much appearance of dishipline, though." "So much the better for us," muttered Captain Thwaites, turning in his cane arm-chair, and looking in the direction of the islands again, from which the three smaller vessels were coming on rapidly. "Yes,"--he said, as if to himself, "a head keeps showing here and there; they are full of men too." I was not experienced, of course, that only being my third voyage, but I knew enough of navigating tactics to grasp the fact that the four vessels were carefully timing themselves so as to reach us together, and this evidently was their customary mode of procedure, and no doubt accounted for ship after ship being taken and plundered. I felt startled, too, as I realised the strength of the crews, and what a simultaneous attempt to board might mean. With an ordinary merchantman, even with a strong crew, undoubtedly death and destruction, while even with our well-armed men and guns I began to have doubts. A slip in the manoeuvres, ever so slight a mistake on Captain Thwaites' part, or a blunder in the carrying out of his orders, might give one vessel the chance to make fast, and while we were arresting their onslaught there would be time for the others to get close in and throw their scores of bloodthirsty savages upon our decks. Mr Reardon had strolled forward, and returned just as the captain said to me-- "You may as well fetch me my sword and cap from the cabin, Mr Herrick." "Yes, sir," I said quickly, and I was off, but he stopped me. "Not now, boy," he cried impatiently; "when the first gun is fired will be time enough. Well, Reardon, men all ready?" "Ready, sir? they want wiring down. I'm only afraid of one thing." "What is that?" "That they will jam one another in the hatches in their excitement." "Give fresh stringent orders, sir," said the captain sternly; "every man is to go quickly and silently to his post, as if on an ordinary drill. By George! they are coming on quickly; we shall have it all over by daylight." "And they'll plunder the ship by lamplight, eh?" said Mr Reardon drily. "Of course. I think there is no need to feel any doubt now as to these being the men we want?" "I don't know, sir," said the lieutenant quietly; "but there is no doubt about their meaning to try and take this peaceful merchantman. Look, they feel sure of us, sir, and are showing themselves. Why, they swarm with men." "Poor wretches!" said the captain gravely. "I don't like shedding blood, but we must do it now, to the last drop." The enemy were now less than a mile away, and coming on rapidly, the smaller vessels helping their progress with long, heavy sweeps; and as I stood behind the captain's chair, and looked round the deck from the wheel, where one of our sham Chinamen stood, with another seated under the bulwarks apparently asleep, but ready to spring up and join his messmate at a word; round by the bulwarks where four or five stood stupidly looking over the side; and then up aloft to the men making believe to work very hard at the damaged spar--all looked peaceful enough to tempt the wretches, without counting the most prominent figure of all, Ching, as he sat high up, smoking placidly, and looking as calm and contemplative as a figure of Buddha. "The men ought to be called up now, and the guns set to work," I said to myself, as every pulse throbbed with excitement, and in imagination I saw, from the captain's neglect or dilatoriness, our deck running with blood. But I had to master these thoughts. "They know better than I do when to begin," I said to myself, and, after a sharp glance at the coming vessels, I began to pity my two messmates who were cooped up below, and I thought of how excited they must be. Then I thought of Mr Brooke, and hoped he would not be hurt; and shuddered a little as I remembered the doctor, who would be all ready below, waiting to attend upon the first wounded man. "See that, sir?" said Mr Reardon quickly. "What?" said Captain Thwaites in the most unmoved way. "That smoke on board two of them." "On board all," said the captain. "I noticed it a minute ago. They are getting the stinkpots ready for us, I suppose." "Yes, that's it, sir. Do you think it necessary to have the hose ready in case of fire?" "No; if any come on board, the firemen can be called up from the stokehole with their shovels. I think we'll go now upon the bridge. You can come too, Mr Herrick. I may want you to take an order or two." And as he walked quietly towards the bridge, where the speaking-tubes and signals joined with the engine-room were, he was as calm and deliberate as if there was not the slightest danger menacing the _Teaser_; while for my part I could not help feeling that the position there upon the bridge was a highly-exposed one, and that I should have been much safer in the shelter of the bulwarks, or down below. All this time we were gently forging ahead, and the junk was quietly manoeuvring so that we should pass her so close that she could just avoid our prow, and then close and grapple with us, for they were busy on her starboard quarter, and through my glass I could make out great hooks. "Won't they think we are taking it too coolly, and grow suspicious, sir?" whispered Mr Reardon excitedly. "I hope not," said the captain. "Perhaps one might show fight now, but I am trusting to their believing that we are stupid, for I want to get them all, Reardon, if I can. Now, silence, if you please." Mr Reardon drew back a step or two and waited during those terrible minutes which followed, and I gave quite a start, for the enemy suddenly threw off all reserve as a yell came from the junk, which was answered from the other vessels, and, with their decks crowded with savage-looking desperadoes, they swept down upon us literally from both sides, bow and stern. But still the captain did not make a sign; and, in the midst of the horrible silence on board, I saw the dressed-up men turning their heads to gaze at us anxiously, as if the suspense was greater than they could bear, and their eyes implored their commander to give the word before the wretches began swarming on board. I glanced at Mr Reardon, whose face was white, and the great drops of perspiration stood upon his cheeks, while his eyes, which were fixed upon the captain between us, looked full of agony; for the great junk with its wild crew was apparently only a hundred yards ahead, and the others not much farther, coming rapidly on. "It's all over," I thought, in my horror, "he will be too late;" and that I was not alone in my thoughts obtained confirmation, for, though the crew to a man stood fast, I saw Ching suddenly drop from his perch and look round for a place of retreat. At the same moment the captain moved his hand; there was a sharp tinging of the gong in the engine-room, which meant full speed ahead; and, as the vibration rapidly increased, he then gave a sharp order or two, and in an instant almost the men came pouring up from the various hatches upon deck, but so quickly and quietly that the transformation was almost magical. I don't think my eyes are peculiarly made, but I saw the various crews muster round the guns, and the marines range up, and the men with their rifles at their various posts, with each officer in his place, although all the time I was standing with my gaze fixed upon the great junk. I saw, too, my twenty pigtailed men come sliding down the ropes from above, and snatch up the cutlasses and rifles laid ready beneath a tarpaulin; but all the time I was seeing, in obedience to orders, two parties of the crew going forward at the double, and I knew that the captain was communicating with the two men at the wheel. Quick as lightning there was another order as we began to leave the three low vessels behind, and I involuntarily grasped the rail before me as all the men on board lay down--crews of the guns, marines, and those who had doubled forward under the command of Mr Brooke. Hardly was the evolution performed, when there, right before us, were the lowering mat-sails of the great junk, and then, crash! there was a wild despairing yell, and we were into her amidships, the ponderous gunboat literally cutting her down and going right over her; while at a second command every man sprang up again, and for the next minute or two bayonet and cutlass were flashing in the evening sunlight as the wretches who climbed on board were driven back. While this was going on, the bell in the engine-room rang out again and again, and we began to move astern to meet the three low junks, which, undismayed by the fate of their comrade, came at us with their crews yelling savagely. Then there was a deep roar as the first gun belched forth its flame and smoke, with the huge shell hurtling through the air, dipping once in the calm sea, and crashing through one of the junks, to explode with a report like the echo of the first, far beyond. Captain Thwaites turned quietly and looked at me. "Yes, sir?" I stammered. "I said when the first gun was fired you could fetch my cap and sword, Mr Herrick," he said quietly, and I ran down just as the second big gun bellowed, but I did not see with what result. I heard the sharp, short order, though, and another gun roared, and another, and another, as the junks came well into sight; for each gun I heard the crash of the shell hitting too, and the fierce yells of the men, as I dashed into the cabin, seized cap and sword, and then ran back to the bridge, eager to see the fight, and in my excitement forgetting to feel afraid. But a heavy smoke was gathering over us and the junks,--two were indistinct, though they were close aboard of us. Then, as the _Teaser_ glided astern, I saw that the third was smoking, while crash, crash, the others struck our sides, and their crews grappled, hurled their stinkpots on board, and began to swarm over the bulwarks. But the guns were being steadily served with terrible effect; the few poor wretches who reached the deck were bayoneted, and in how long or how short a time I cannot tell, for everything seemed to be swept away in the excitement; we steamed away out of the smoke into the ruddy sunset, and there I saw in one place a mass of tangled bamboo and matting, with men clustering upon it, and crowding one over the other like bees in a swarm. There was another mass about a quarter of a mile away, and I looked in vain for the third junk; but a number of her crew clinging to bamboos, sweeps, spars, and what looked to be wicker crates, showed where she had been. The last of the four, with her great matting-sails hauled up to the fullest extent, was sailing away toward the nearest island, and on either side they had sweeps over with two or three men to each, tugging away with all their might to help their vessel along. "The brutes!" I thought to myself, as I watched the glint of the ruddy sun upon their shiny heads and faces, with their pig tails swinging behind, as they hung back straining at the great oars. For their sole idea seemed to be escape, and not the slightest effort was made to pick up any of their comrades struggling in the water. It was wonderful how quickly they went, and I began to think that the junk would escape. Three miles would be enough to place her all amongst the reefs and shoals, where the gunboat dare not follow; and I was thinking, as we glided rapidly in her wake, that the _Teaser_ would chase her swiftly for about half the distance, and then lower the boats to continue the pursuit, but I was wrong; I saw that the captain gave Mr Reardon some order, then the gong rang in the engine-room, the way of the _Teaser_ was checked, a turn of the wheel made her describe a curve, and she slowly came to a standstill broadside on to the flying junk. The next minute the crews were piped away to the boats with their complement of marines to each; and as they were lowered down a steady fire was maintained with shell upon the junk. I stood watching the shots, and saw the first of the broadside from one heavy and three smaller guns strike the water close to the junk's hull, fly up, dip again, and then burst over the cliffs. The second went wide to the left, while the third also missed; and I saw the captain stamp impatiently as the fourth went right over her. "She'll get away," I thought; and it seemed a pity for this junk to escape and form a nucleus for another strong pirate gang. The firing continued, another broadside being directed at the flying pirates, who seemed to be certain now of escape, for the junk was end-on to us, and moving rapidly, forming a very difficult object for our marksmen; the gunboat, of course, rising and falling all the time upon the heaving sea. In the intervals between the shots I had caught a glimpse of Barkins and Smith climbing into two of the boats, but it was only a glimpse; and then I was watching the effects of the fire again, as the boats pushed off to go to the help of the floating men. Shot after shot had been fired most ineffectively, and I heard expostulations and angry words used to the captains of the guns; while at every ineffective shell that burst far away a derisive yell rose from the crowded junk--the shouts increasing each time. "Another broadside, Reardon," cried the captain; "and then we must run in as far as we dare. Pick out half-a-dozen of the best men with the rifle to place on the bows to pick off the steersman." "Ay, ay, sir," cried Mr Reardon; then directly, "All gone in the boats, sir." Just then, as I was thinking that the junk must escape, one of our big guns was fired with a crash which made the deck vibrate. There was a tremendous puff of smoke, which was drawn toward us so that I could not see the effect, but the shell seemed to burst almost directly with a peculiar dull crash, and another yell arose from the distant vessel. Only it was not a derisive cry like the last, but a faint startling chorus of long-continued shrieks, despairing and wild. "That's got her, sir," cried Mr Reardon; and we waited impatiently for the smoke to float by. But it still shut out the junk from where we stood, while it passed away from the men forward at the gun, and they gave us the first endorsement of Mr Reardon's words by bursting out into a hearty cheer, which was taken up by the crews of the other guns. Then we were clear of the smoke, looking landward to see a crowd of men struggling in the water, swimming about to reach planks and pieces of the junk, which had been blown almost to pieces by our great shell, and had sunk at once, while yet quite a mile from the nearest rocks. "Ha!" ejaculated the captain, "a good evening's work! Now, Reardon, down with the other two boats, and save every poor wretch you can." "Only one left, sir," cried Mr Reardon; and in a few minutes, fully manned, she was about to be lowered down, when I looked quickly at the captain, and he read my meaning. "Want to go?" he said, and then nodded sharply. I dashed down, climbed upon the bulwark, seized the falls just as they were about to be cast off, and slid down into the stern to take my place. Then the oars fell with a splash, and away we went over the ruddy sea to try and save all we could of the wretches upon whom so terrible a retribution had come. One of the warrant officers was in command; he gave me a grim nod. "Want to see the fun?" he said. "I want to see the men saved," I replied; "I don't know where the fun comes in." "You soon will," he said. "Look out for yourself, my lad; and don't be too eager to help them." "Why?" "You'll soon see," he said gruffly. Then turning to the four marines in the stern-sheets--"fix bayonets, and keep a sharp look-out." I looked at him wonderingly, for fixed bayonets did not seem very suitable things for saving drowning men. But I said nothing, only sheltered my eyes from the level rays of the sun as we rowed swiftly on, and gazed across the water at the despairing wretches fighting for their lives upon the blood-red surface of the water. It was very horrible after a time, for, as I looked with my heart feeling contracted, I saw a man, who had been swimming hard, suddenly throw up his hands and sink. It was too much for me. "Row, my lads, row," I cried; "we may catch him as he comes up." "No," said the warrant officer grimly, "we shall never see him again." "But try, try!" I cried. "Yes, we'll try our best," said the officer sternly; "but it's their turn now. Many a poor wretch have they seen drown, I know, and laughed at when he cried for help." I knew it was true; but all the same there was only one thought besides in my breast, and that was to save all the poor wretches who were clinging to the pieces of wreck. As we drew nearer, we came upon the first of quite thirty, clinging to a sweep which was under his left arm; while, to my horror, I had seen three more swimming without support go down without a cry, and not one rise again. "Easy there," said the officer; "ready there, coxswain; can you reach him with the hook?" The man who was standing in the bows reached out to hook the pirate, but just then the end of the floating sweep touched our boat, and turned right off, so that the coxswain missed his stroke, and the result was that the pirate glided aft. The officer by my side leaned over, reached out, and, to my intense satisfaction, caught the Chinaman by his left sleeve to draw him to the boat; but in an instant the wretch threw his right arm out of the water, and I saw the flash of a long knife in his fingers, as, with his teeth grinning, he struck at my companion with all his might. I was so taken by surprise that I sat as if paralysed; but I was conscious of a quick movement from behind, something red passed over me, and, all instantaneously, there was the flash of another blade, a horrible thud--the pirate was driven under water; and I wrenched, as it were, my eyes round from him to look up over my shoulder at the marine, who with a dexterous twist of his rifle withdrew his bayonet from the savage's chest. "Hurt, sir?" he said. "No thankye, marine. Very quick and well done of you. There, Mr Herrick; now you see why I told you to look out." "The brutes!" I cried excitedly; "they're not worth trying to save." "No," he said; "but we must do it. I suppose they don't believe much in the mercy they'll get from us; so there's no wonder. Look at that!" I turned my head in the direction in which he pointed, and saw what he meant. Five men were clinging to a piece of floating wreck about fifty yards away, and three more left the plank to which they had been clinging as we approached, and swam to join them. I looked at the first group, fully expecting to see them hold out their hands to help their comrades; but in place thereof, I saw one wretch, who occupied the best position on the floating mass of wreck, raise a heavy piece of bamboo with both hands, and bring it down with a crash upon the head of the first man who swam up. "Yah, you cowardly beggar!" roared one of the boat's crew. "I've marked you." "Nice wild-beasts to save, Mr Herrick," said the warrant officer. "I feel as if I should like to open fire on them with my revolver." "It's too horrible," I panted. "Look, look, Mr Grey!" "I'm looking, my lad," said my companion. "Give way, my boys; let's stop it somehow." For there was a desperate fight going on at the piece of wreck; three men, knife in hand, were trying to get upon the floating wood, and those upon it stabbing at them to keep them off. But, in their despair, the swimmers made a dash together, regardless of the blows, climbed on, and a terrible struggle began. "Starn all!" roared Mr Grey; and the boat's progress was checked. We were backed away just in time, for the pirates were all now on one side of the piece of wreck, thinking of nothing but destroying each other's lives, and heaped together in what looked like a knot, when the side they were on slowly sank, the far portion rose up and completely turned over upon them, forcing them beneath the water, which eddied and boiled as the struggle still went on below the surface. "Give way, my lads," said the officer sternly; "let's try and save some of the others." "Ay, ay," cried the man who had shouted before. "These here arn't worth saving." The boat swept round in a curve, and we pulled off for another group, kneeling and crouching upon what seemed to be a yard and a mass of matting-sail. Mr Grey stood up. "Now, my lads," he shouted, "surrender." For answer they bared their knives and defied us to come on, yelling and striking at us with them. Mr Grey looked round at me half-laughingly. "Cheerful sort of prisoners to make. If we go close in, some of us will get knifed." "You can't go close," I said. "If I don't they'll drown," he cried; "and the captain will ask me what I've been about." "Hadn't you better let the jollies put 'em out of their misery, Mr Grey, sir?" cried one of the men. "They arn't fit to live." "No," cried another fiercely. "They arn't men; they're tigers." "Silence!" said the officer sternly. "There is a man yonder about to sink; give way," he cried. This man had left a barrel, to which he had vainly tried to cling, but it kept on turning round; and at last, in his despair, he had left it to try and swim to the nearest rocks. His strength was failing, though, and he began to paddle like a dog, too much frightened to try and swim. A few strokes of the oar took us within reach, and this time the coxswain succeeded in hooking his loose cotton jacket, and drawing him to the side. Hands seized him directly, and he was hauled in to lie down trembling, and looking wildly from one to the other. "Come; he's a quiet one," said the coxswain. "Mind, sir!" "Mind! look out!" roared the boatswain. But he was too late. One moment the Chinaman crouched, limp and helpless, in the bottom of the boat forward, with his hands hidden in his wet sleeves, the next he had made a frog-like leap at the coxswain, driven a sharp knife in the muscles of his back, and leaped overboard. Not into safety, though; for one of the men stood ready, and, as the wretch rose, brought down the blade of his oar with a tremendous chop across the head, and the pirate went down to rise no more. I heard the boatswain utter a low fierce growl as he crept forward, and I followed to try and help, for the injured man had sunk upon his knees, with the boat-hook across the bows, and began to wipe the perspiration from his forehead. "Much hurt, my lad?" cried Mr Grey. "Tidy, sir, tidy; makes one feel a bit sicky-like. Any one like to have the next turn with the boat-hook? I'm going to miche a bit.--Do it bleed?" All thought of saving the pirates was given up till the wound, which bled sharply, was carefully bandaged, and the man laid down in the bottom of the boat. Then the crew looked at their officer. "Hadn't we better polish 'em off, sir?" growled one of the men. "The captain's orders were to pick up all the drowning men we could," said the boatswain sternly. "But they won't be picked up, sir." "Give way." The men rowed to another floating group of four, and I stood up and called to them to surrender. For answer they sprang into the water, and began to swim to some of their comrades on the next piece of wreck. "This is a puzzling job, Mr Herrick," said the boatswain. "I'm not a brute; I'd jump overboard to save any of the wretches, but it would be like giving my life, or the lives of any of the crew, to set them the job. Those wretches will begin upon their mates, you'll see." He was quite right, for the possessors of the next floating piece of wreck yelled to their comrades to keep off, and, as they still swam on, a fresh fight began of the most bloodthirsty nature, and one of our men said drily-- "Take it coolly, sir. If we lay on our oars a bit, there won't be none to fish up." The feeling of horror and pity for the drowning men began to wear off, and I was glad when Mr Grey suddenly ordered the men to row hard, and I saw him steer shoreward to cut off a little party of four, who, with a thick bamboo yard between them, were swimming for the rocks. "They must be saved as prisoners or not at all," he said sternly; "not a man of them must land." As soon as this last party saw us coming, we noticed that they drew their knives to keep us off, but energetic measures were taken this time. We got between them and the shore; and then a rope was made ready, one of the men stood up and dexterously threw it right over a pirate's head, snatched it tightly to him, dragged him from his hold, and he was at last drawn to the side half-drowned, hauled aboard, and his hands and feet tied. This successful plan was followed out with the others, with the result that we had four prisoners lying safely in the bottom, and then turned to capture some more in the same way. But we had been so excited and taken up by this work that we had not seen what was going on seaward, where a gun was fired for our recall. "Where's the next of them?" said Mr Grey. I did not answer, as I stood up looking round to see a few fragments of wreck floating here and there, but there was not another pirate left to save. CHAPTER TWELVE. REPAIRING DAMAGES. For some moments I could not believe it true, and I stood on the thwart and gazed carefully round, scanning every fragment of the wreck in the expectation of seeing some trick to deceive us--men lying flat with only their faces above the surface of the water, and holding on by sweep or bamboo with one hand. But in a very short time we were all certain that not a living being was near; of the dead there were several, as we found on rowing here and there. One, as he was turned over, seemed to be perfectly uninjured, but the others displayed ghastly wounds in face, neck, and breast, showing how horribly fierce had been the encounter in which they had been engaged. Satisfied at last that our task was at an end, the word was given, and the men began to row back to the _Teaser_, which still lay so transformed in appearance, as seen from a distance, that I was thinking that it was no wonder that the pirates had been deceived, when one of the men, forgetful of all the horrors through which we had passed, of his wounded comrade, and the dangerous prisoners under his feet, burst out into a merry fit of laughter. "Say, lads," he cried, "we shall have a nice job to-morrow, to wash the old girl's face." The rest of the crew laughed in chorus, till the boatswain sternly bade them give way. "I doubt it," he said in a low voice to me. "I should say that the captain will do a little more to make her less ship-shape, ready for the next lot." "But you don't think there are any more pirates, do you?" "More!" he said, looking at me in surprise. "Why, my lad, the coast swarms with them. We never hear a hundredth part of the attacks they make. It is not only European vessels they seize, but anything that comes in their way. It strikes me, Mr Herrick, that we have only just begun what may turn out a very successful cruise." Ten minutes later we were nearing the _Teaser_, and I saw the reason why we could not see either of the other boats. They were swinging to the davits, and we were therefore the last. Just then Mr Reardon hailed us. "How many men hurt?" he shouted between his hands. "Only one, sir; Barr--coxswain." "Badly?" "Oh no, sir," shouted the sufferer. "Bit of a scrat on the back." "How many prisoners?" "Four, sir." Then we were alongside, the boat was run up, and, after our wounded man had been lifted out, I stepped on board, eager to know the result of the action on the part of the other boats, and to learn this I went below, and found Barkins alone. "Well," I cried, "how many prisoners?" "Round dozen," he cried. "Any one hurt?" "Round dozen." "I know, twelve prisoners," I said impatiently. "I asked you how many were hurt." "And I told you, stupid," he replied, "a round dozen." "What! a man wounded for every prisoner?" "That's it; and we shouldn't have taken any, the beggars were game for fighting to the last, if Mr Brooke hadn't given the word for them to be knocked on the head first with the thick end of the oars." "To stun them?" "Yes; and our lads got so savage after seeing their mates stabbed when trying to save the brutes' lives, that they hit as hard as they could. They killed two of 'em, or we should have had fourteen." "How horrid!" "Horrid? Why, I enjoyed it," said my messmate. "When I saw poor old Blacksmith--" "What!" I cried excitedly, "he isn't hurt?" "Not hurt? why, one yellow-faced savage, when poor old Smithy held out his hand to pull him aboard, took hold of his wrist, and then reached up and stuck his knife right through the poor old chap's arm, and left it there." "Poor old Smithy!" I cried huskily, and a choking sensation rose in my throat. "I must go and see him." "No, you mustn't. I've just been, and they sent me away." "But where is he?" "Doctor's got him, and been mending him up. He has gone to sleep now." "Was he very bad?" "Stick a stocking-needle through your arm, and then square it, cube it, add decimal nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two, one, and then see how you feel." "Poor old boy!" I said; "I am sorry." "Well, so am I," said Barkins sourly; "but I don't keep on howling." "Did they take the blackguard prisoner?" "Well, they did, and hauled him aboard, but he was no good, and they pitched him overboard again." "Why?" I said wonderingly. "Why! because he was dead. Bob Saunders, that red-haired chap, was in the stern-sheets helping to catch the beggars with hitches, and as soon as he saw the big yellow-faced wretch stick his knife into poor old Blacksmith, he let drive at the brute with the boat-hook, twisted it in his frock, and held him under water. He didn't mean to, but he was savage at what he had seen, for the lads like Smithy, and he held the beggar under water too long." I shuddered, and thought of the man being bayoneted from our boat, and Mr Grey's narrow escape. "Your fellows behaved better, I s'pose?" said Barkins. "Not a bit," I said. "We've got a man stabbed just in the same way--" and I told him of our adventures. "They're nice ones," said Barkins sourly. "I don't think our chaps will want to take many prisoners next time. But I say, what a crusher for them--all four junks, and not a man to go back and tell the tale." "It's glorious," I cried, forgetting the horrors in our triumph. "For you," said Barkins sourly. "Why for me? You and poor old Smith did your part. Don't be so jolly envious." "Envious? Come, I like that," he cried. "If you felt as if something red-hot was being stuck in your leg you'd feel envious too. You're the luckiest beggar that ever was, and never get hurt or anything." "No more do you," I said, laughing. "Oh, don't I? What do you call that, then?" he cried, swinging his legs round, for he was sitting with one of them under the table. To my horror and astonishment, I saw that his leg was bandaged, and a red stain was showing through. "Why, Tanner, old chap," I cried, catching his hand as my eyes were blurred; "I didn't know you were hurt." He looked quite pleased at my weakness, and the emotion I showed. "Oh, it ain't much," he said, smiling and holding on to my hand very tightly; "but it pringles and sticks a bit, I mean stingles--no, I don't! My tongue's getting all in a knot, it tingles and pricks a bit. I say, Gnat, old chap, you don't think those chaps carry poisoned knives, do you?" "What, like the Malays? Oh no." "I'm glad of that, because it made me feel a bit funky. I thought this stinging might mean the poison spreading." "Oh no, don't think that," I cried; "and some one told me a Malay prince said it was all nonsense about the knives being poisoned." "He did?" "Yes; he laughed, and said there was no need to poison them, they were quite sharp enough to kill a man without." "That depends on where you put it in," said Barkins grimly. "Yes," I said; "but what did the doctor say?" "What about?" "Your leg." "He hasn't seen it yet." "Why, Tanner," I cried, "you haven't had it properly bandaged." "No; I felt so sick when I got on board, that I sneaked off here to lie down a bit. Besides, he had poor old Blacksmith to see to, and the other chaps." "But didn't he see the bandage when you went there?" "No; there was no bandage then. It's only a bit of a scratch; I tied it up myself." "How was it?" "I don't hardly know. It was done in a scuffle somehow, when we had got the first prisoner in hand. He began laying about him with a knife, and gave it to two of our lads badly, and just caught me in the leg. It was so little that I didn't like to make a fuss about it. Here, stop, don't leave a chap. I want to talk to you." "Back directly," I cried, and I hurried on deck so quickly that I nearly blundered up against Mr Reardon. "Manners, midshipman!" he said sharply. "Stop, sir. Where are you going?" "Doctor, sir." "What, are you hurt, my lad?" he cried anxiously. "No, sir, but poor Barkins is." "Bless my soul, how unfortunate! Mr Smith down too! Where is he?" I told him, and he hurried with me to the doctor, who was putting on his coat, after finishing the last dressing of the injured men. "Here, doctor," cried Mr Reardon sharply, "I've another man down--boy, I mean." "What, young Smith? I've dressed his wound." "No, no; Barkins has been touched too." "Tut, tut!" cried the doctor, taking up a roll of bandage. "Are they bringing him?" "No, sir; he's sitting by his berth. He tied up the wound himself." Without another word the doctor started off, and we followed to where Barkins sat by the table with his back leaning against the side of his berth, and as soon as he caught sight of us he darted a reproachful look at me. "Oh, I say, Gnat," he whispered, "this is too bad." For the doctor had raised the leg, and, after taking off the handkerchief, roughly tied round just above the knee, made no scruple about slitting up the lad's trousers with an ugly-looking knife, having a hooky kind of blade. "Bad?" said Mr Reardon anxiously. "Oh dear, no," replied the doctor. "Nice clean cut. Sponge and water, youngster. Ha, yes," he continued, as he applied the cool, soft sponge to the bleeding wound, "avoided all the vessels nicely." "Gnat, old chap," whispered Barkins, as I half supported him, "pinch me, there's a good fellow." "What for?" I whispered back. "Feel sicky and queer. Don't let me faint before him." "Here, hallo! Barkins, don't turn like a great girl over a scratch-- lower his head down, boy. That's the way. He'll soon come round. Ever see a wound dressed before?" "No, sir," I said, repressing a shudder. "Don't tease the boys, doctor," said Mr Reardon sharply; "get the wound dressed." "Well, I am dressing it, arn't I?" said the doctor cheerily, and as if he enjoyed his task. "I must draw the edges together first." He had taken what seemed to be a pocket-book from his breast and laid it open, and as I looked on, feeling sick myself, I saw him really put in three or four stitches, and then strap up and bandage the wound, just as Barkins came to and looked about wonderingly. "I didn't faint, did I?" he said anxiously. The doctor laughed. "There, lie down in your berth," he said. "Let me help you." He assisted my messmate gently enough, and then said laughingly-- "One can dress your wound without having three men to hold you. I say, Reardon, isn't it waste of good surgical skill for me to be dressing the prisoners' wounds, if you folk are going to hang them?" "I don't know that we are going to hang them," said the lieutenant quietly. "Perhaps we shall deliver them over to the Chinese authorities at Wanghai." "What? My dear fellow, go and beg the captain to hang 'em at once out of their misery. It will be a kindness. Do you know what a Chinese prison is?" "No." "Then I do. It would be a mercy to kill them." "The Chinese authorities may wish to make an example of them so as to repress piracy." "Let 'em make an example of some one else. Eh? Bandage too tight, my lad?" "No, sir," said Barkins rather faintly. "The wound hurts a good deal." "Good sign; 'tis its nature to," said the doctor jocosely. "But--er--you don't think, sir--" "`That you may die after it,' as we used to say over cut fingers at school. Bah! it's a nice clean honest cut, made with a sharp knife. Heal up like anything with your healthy young flesh." "But don't these savage people sometimes poison their blades, sir?" "Don't people who are wounded for the first time get all kinds of cock-and-bull notions into their heads, sir? There, go to sleep and forget all about it. Healthy smarting is what you feel. Why, you'll be able to limp about the deck with a stick to-morrow." "Do you mean it, sir?" "Of course." Barkins gave him a grateful look, and Mr Reardon shook hands, nodded, and left us to ourselves for a moment, then the doctor thrust in his head again. "Here, lads," he said, "Smith's all right, I've made a capital job of his arm. Your turn next, Herrick. Good-bye." This time we were left alone. CHAPTER THIRTEEN. A WILD-BEASTS' CAGE. All doubts as to our next destination were set at rest the next morning, for it was generally known that we were making for Tsin-Tsin, at the mouth of the Great Fo river, where the prisoners were to be delivered over to the Chinese authorities. I had been pretty busy all the morning with Barkins and Smith, going from one to the other, to sit with them and give them what news I could, both looking rather glum when I went away, for they were feverish and fretful from their wounds. But I promised to return soon with news of the men, who were all together in a cool, well-ventilated part of the 'tween-decks, seeming restful and patient, the doctor having been round, and, in his short, decisive way, given them a few words of encouragement. I saw their faces light up as I went down between the two rows in which they were laid, and stopped for a chat with those I knew best, about the way in which they had received their wounds, the coxswain of our boat being the most talkative. "They all got it 'bout the same way, sir," he said. "It all comes of trying to do the beggars a good turn. Who'd ever have thought it, eh, sir? Trying to save a fellow from drownding, and knives yer!" They were all very eager to know what was to become of the prisoners, and upon my telling the poor fellows what I knew, I heard them giving their opinions to one another in a lying-down debate. "Seems a pity," said one of the men. "Takes all that there trouble, we does; captivates 'em; and then, 'stead o' having the right to hang 'em all decently at the yard-arm, we has to give 'em up to the teapots." "How are you going to hang 'em decently?" said another voice. "Reg'lar way, o' course, matey." "Yah, who's going to do it? British sailors don't want turning into Jack Ketches." "'Course not," said a third. "Shooting or cutting a fellow down in fair fight's one thing; taking prisoners and hanging on 'em arterwards, quite another pair o' shoes. I says as the skipper's right." "Hear, hear!" rose in chorus, and it seemed to be pretty generally agreed that we should be very glad to get rid of the savage brutes. I was on my way back to where Smith lay, when I encountered the doctor, who gave me a friendly nod. "At your service, Mr Herrick," he said, "when you want me; and, by the way, my lad, your messmate Barkins has got that idea in his head still, about the poisoned blade. Try and laugh him out of it. Thoughts like that hinder progress, and it is all nonsense. His is a good, clean, healthy wound." He passed on, looking very business-like, and his dresser followed, while I went on to see Smith. "Good, clean, healthy wound!" I said to myself; "I believe he takes delight in such things." I turned back to look after him, but he was gone. "Why, he has been to attend to the prisoners," I thought, and this set me thinking about them. To think about them was to begin wishing to have a look at them, and to begin wishing was with me to walk forward to where they were confined, with a couple of marines on duty with loaded rifles and fixed bayonets. The men challenged as I marched up. "It's all right," I said. "I only want to have a look at them." "Can't pass, sir, without orders," said the man. "But I'm an officer," I said testily. "I'm not going to help them escape." The marine grinned. "No, sir, 'tain't likely; but we has strict orders. You ask my mate, sir." "Yes, sir; that's it, sir," said the other respectfully. "What a bother!" I cried impatiently. "I only wanted to see how they looked." "'Tain't my fault, sir; strict orders. And they ain't very pretty to look at, sir, and it'd be 'most as safe to go in and see a box o' wild-beasts. Doctor's been in this last hour doin' on 'em up, with depitty, and two on us inside at the `present' all the time. They'd think nothing o' flying at him, and all the time he was taking as much pains with them as if they were some of our chaps. They have give it to one another awful." "Well, I am sorry," I said. "I should have liked to see them." "So'm I sorry, sir; I'd have let you in a minute, but you don't want to get me in a row, sir." "Oh no, of course not," I said. "My mate here says, sir--" "Get out! Hold your row," growled the other, protesting. "Yes, what does he say?" I cried eagerly. "That if we was to shut 'em up close in the dark and not go anigh, sir, till to-morrow morning, there wouldn't be nothing left but one o' their tails." "Like the Kilkenny cats, eh?" I said, laughing; and I went back on deck with the desire to see the prisoners stronger than ever. Captain Thwaites was on the quarter-deck, marching up and down, and the men were hard at work cleaning up, squaring the yards, and repainting. The spars were up in their places again, and the _Teaser_ was rapidly resuming her old aspect, when I saw Mr Reardon go up to the captain. "I'll ask leave," I said. "He has been pretty civil;" and I made up my mind to wait till the lieutenant came away. "No, I won't," I said. "I'll go and ask the captain when he has gone." The next moment I felt that this would not do, for Mr Reardon would be sure to know, and feel vexed because I had not asked him. "I'll go and ask leave while they are both together," I said to myself. "That's the way." But I knew it wasn't, and took a turn up and down till I saw Mr Reardon salute and come away, looking very intent and busy. I waited till he was pretty close, and then started to intercept him. His keen eye was on me in an instant. "Bless my soul, Mr Herrick!" he cried, "what are you doing? Surely your duty does not bring you here?" "No, sir," I said, saluting. "I beg your pardon, sir; I've been going backward and forward to Mr Barkins and Mr Smith." "Ho! Pair of young noodles; what did they want in the boats? Getting hurt like that. Well?" "Beg pardon, sir; would you mind giving me permission to see the prisoners?" "What! why?" "I wanted to see them, sir, and go back and tell my messmates about how they looked." "Humbug!" he cried. "Look here, sir, do you think I have nothing else to do but act as a wild-beast showman, to gratify your impertinent curiosity? Let the miserable wretches be." "Yes, sir." "And be off to your cabin and study your navigation, sir. Your ignorance of the simplest matters is fearful. At your age you ought to be as well able to use a sextant as I am." "Beg pardon, sir, I am trying." "Then be off and try more, and let me see some results." I touched my cap, drew back, and the lieutenant marched on. "Jolly old bear!" I muttered, looking exceedingly crestfallen. "Herrick!" came sharply, and I ran up, for he was walking on, and I had to keep up with him. "Yes, sir." "You behaved very well yesterday. I'm horribly busy. Here, this way." "Thank you, sir," I said, wondering what he was going to set me to do, and thinking that he might have given me the permission I asked. "Now then, quick," he said; and, to my surprise, he led the way to the hatchway, went down, and then forward to where the two marines were on duty, ready to present arms to the officer who always seemed of far more importance in the ship than the captain. "Let Mr Herrick pass in, marines," he said. "Keep a sharp eye on your prisoners." I gave him a look of thanks, and then felt disappointed again. "Stop," he said; "fetch up two more men and a lantern, Herrick." I gladly obeyed; and then the door was opened. After a look in through the grating, and followed closely by three of the marines with their rifles ready, we walked in to where the prisoners were squatted upon their heels all round close up against the bulkheads, bandaged terribly about the faces and necks, and with their fierce eyes glowering at us. I had expected to find them lying about like wounded men, but, bad as several were, they all occupied this sitting position, and glared at us in a way that told us very plainly how unsafe it would be to trust our lives in their keeping even for a minute. "Beg pardon, sir," whispered the corporal of marines, who was carrying a lantern; "better be on the look-out." "Oh yes," said Mr Reardon. "We shall not stay. I only wanted a look round. Look sharp, Mr Herrick, and see what you want of them." "Doctor was dressing that farthest chap's head, sir," whispered the corporal to me; "and as soon as he was about done, the fellow watched his chance and fixed his teeth in the dresser's arm, and wouldn't let go till--" "Well? Till what?" said Mr Reardon, gazing fixedly at the brutal countenance of one of the men right before us. "We had to persuade him to let go." "Humph!" ejaculated the lieutenant. "Wild-beast." "How did you persuade him?" I whispered. "With the butt-end of a rifle, sir; and then we had to wrench his teeth open with bayonets." I looked round from face to face, all ghastly from their wounds, to see in every one a fierce pair of eyes glaring at me with undying hatred, and I was wondering how it was that people could think of the Chinese as being a calm, bland, good-humoured Eastern race, when Mr Reardon said to me-- "Nearly ready, Herrick? The sight of these men completely takes away all compunction as to the way we treat them." "Yes, sir; and it makes one feel glad that they are not armed." "Ready to come away?" "Yes, sir," I said; "quite." "Come along, then." He took a step towards the door, when the corporal said, "Beg pardon, sir; better back out." "Eh? oh, nonsense!" said the lieutenant, without changing his position, while I, though I began to feel impressed with the glaring eyes, and to feel that the sooner we were out of the place the pleasanter it would be, thought that it would be rather undignified on the part of officers to show the wretches that we were afraid of them. Just then Mr Reardon glanced sidewise to where one of the men on our left crouched near the door, and said quickly-- "The surgeon saw all these men this morning?" "Yes, sir," said the corporal, "not half an hour ago." "He must be fetched to that man. The poor wretch is ready to faint." "Yes, sir; he shall be fetched." Mr Reardon bent down to look at the prisoner more closely. "Hold the lantern nearer," he said. The corporal lowered the light, which shone on the pirate's glassy eyes, and there was a fixed look in his savage features which was very horrible. "Get some water for him," said Mr Reardon. But hardly had the words left his lips when I was conscious of a rushing sound behind me. I was dashed sidewise, and one of the prisoners, who had made a tremendous spring, alighted on the lieutenant's back, driving him forward as I heard the sound of a blow; the corporal was driven sidewise too, and the lantern fell from his hand. Then came a terrible shriek, and a scuffling, struggling sound, a part of which I helped to make, for I had been driven against one of the prisoners, who seized me, and as I wrestled with him I felt his hot breath upon my face, and his hands scuffling about to get a tight grip of my throat. CHAPTER FOURTEEN. THE SEQUEL. If ever I was active it was at that moment. I struck out with my clenched fists, throwing all the power I possessed into my blows, and fortunately for me--a mere boy in the grasp of a heavily-built man--he was comparatively, powerless from loss of blood consequent upon his wounds, so that I was able to wrest myself free, and stand erect. At that moment the corporal recovered the lantern, and held it up, showing that fully half the prisoners had left the spots where they were crouching the minute before, and were making an effort to join in the fray initiated by one of the savages of whom we had been warned. It is all very horrible to write of, but I am telling a simple story in this log of what takes place in warfare, when men of our army and navy contend with the uncivilised enemies of other lands. In this case we were encountering a gang of bloodthirsty wretches, whose whole career had been one of rapine and destruction. The desire seemed to be innate to kill, and this man, a prisoner, who since he had been taken had received nothing but kindness and attention, had been patiently watching for the opportunity which came at last. Just as Mr Reardon was stooping to attend to his fellow-prisoner, he had made a tremendous cat-like bound, driving me sidewise as he alighted on Mr Reardon's back, making at the same time a would-be deadly stroke with a small knife he had managed to keep hidden in the folds of his cotton jacket. As I rose up I could see the knife sticking in the lieutenant's shoulder, apparently driven sidewise into his neck, while he was standing with his eyes dilated, looking in horror at his assailant, who now lay back, quivering in the agonies of death, literally pinned down to the deck. My brain swam, and for a few moments everything looked misty, but that horrid sight forced itself upon me, and I felt as if I must stare hard at the pirate, where he lay bayoneted and held down at the end of the rifle by the strong arms of the marine sentry, who was pressing with all his might upon the stock. The struggling went on for a few moments, then grew less and less violent, while a low hissing sound came from the prisoners around. Then the quivering entirely ceased, and the marine gave his bayonet a twist, and dragged it out of the wretch's chest, throwing himself back into position to strike again, should it be necessary. But the last breath had passed the pirate's lips; and, while the sentry drew back to his place by one side of the door and stood ready, his comrade fell back to the other, and the corporal and the fourth man seized the pirate, and rapidly drew him forth through the doorway; we followed, the place was closed and fastened, and I stood panting, as if I had been running hard, and could not recover my breath. The next moment I was clinging to Mr Reardon, trying to hold him up, but he misinterpreted my action, and seized and gave me a rough shake. "Don't, boy," he cried in an angry, excited tone. "Stand up; be a man." "Yes, yes," I gasped; "but quick, corporal! never mind--that wretch-- run--the doctor--fetch Mr Price." "Bah!" cried Mr Reardon roughly, and trying to hide his own agitation, "the man's dead." I stared at him in horror. "He don't know!" I gasped. "Mr Reardon--sit--lie--lay him down, my lads. Don't you know you are badly hurt?" "I! hurt?" he cried. "No; I felt him hit me, but it was nothing." I reached up my trembling hand, but he caught it as it touched his shoulder, and was in the act of snatching it away, when his own came in contact with the handle of the knife. "Great heavens!" he ejaculated, as he drew it forth from where it was sticking through the stiff collar of his coat; "right through from side to side--what a narrow escape!" "I--I thought he had killed you," I cried faintly, and a deathly sensation made me feel for the moment as if I must fall. "No, not a scratch," he said firmly now. "A little memento," he muttered, as he took out his handkerchief and wrapped it round the blade before thrusting the knife in his breast-pocket. "I must keep that for my private museum, Herrick. Here, my lads, throw something over that wretch. Sentry, I'll talk to you later on. You saved my life." "Officer's orders, sir," said the man, looking uncomfortable and stiff as he drew himself up. "What, to save my life?" said Mr Reardon, smiling, and trying to look as if everything had been part of the ordinary business of life. "No, sir; to keep my eye on the Chinees. I had mine on that chap, for he looked ugly at you, and I see him pull himself together, shuffle in his blue jacket, and then make a jump at you, just like a cat at a rat." "What?" "Beg pardon, sir," said the man awkwardly; "I don't mean to say as you looked like a rat." "I hope not, my lad." "I meant him jumping like a cat." "Yes; and you saw him springing at me?" "Yes, sir." "Well, what then?" "Only bayonet practice, sir--point from guard, and he came right on it." "Yes?" "Then I held him down, sir." I saw Mr Reardon shudder slightly. "That will do, sentry," he said shortly. "I will see you another time. Come, Mr Herrick." I followed him on deck, and saw him take off his cap and wipe his forehead, but he turned consciously to see if I was looking. "Rather warm below," he said drily. "I'd better have kept to my first answer to you, my lad. You see it's dangerous to go into a wild-beasts' cage." "Yes, sir, I'm very sorry," I said; then, anxiously, "But you are sure you are not hurt, sir?" "Tut, tut! I told you no, boy. There, there, I don't mean that. Not even scratched, Mr Herrick. You can go to your messmates now with an adventure to tell them," he added, smiling; "only don't dress it up into a highly-coloured story, about how your superior officer relaxed the strict rules of dishipline; do you hear?" "Yes, sir, I hear," I said, and I left him going to join the captain, while I went down and told Barkins what had been going on, but I had not been talking to him five minutes before I heard a heavy splash as if something had been thrown over the side. "What's that?" said Barkins, turning pale. I did not answer. "Sounds like burying some one," he whispered. "Don't say poor old Blacksmith has gone?" "No no," I said. "I know what it is. Wait till I've told you all I have to tell, and then you'll know too." He looked at me wonderingly, and I completed my account of the scene in the black-hole place. "Oh, I see," he cried; "it was the Chinaman?" I nodded carelessly, but I felt more serious than ever before in my life, at this horrible sequel to a fearful scene. CHAPTER FIFTEEN. A DISAPPOINTMENT. "Very jolly for you," said Barkins, as we cast anchor off Tsin-Tsin a couple of mornings later. "You'll be going ashore and enjoying yourself, while I'm condemned to hobble on deck with a stick." "I say, don't grumble," I cried. "Look how beautiful the place seems in the sunshine." "Oh yes, it looks right enough; but wait till you go along the narrow streets, and get some of the smells." "Hear that, Smithy?" I said to our comrade, who was lying in his berth. "Grumbles because he can't go ashore, and then begins making out how bad it is. How about the fox and the grapes?" "If you call me fox, my lad, I'll give you sour grapes when I get better. Where's your glass?" I took down my telescope, adjusted it for him, and pushed his seat nearer to the open window, so that he could examine the bright-looking city, with the blue plum-bloom tinted mountains behind covered with dense forest, and at the shipping of all nations lying at the mouth of the river. "S'pose that tower's made of crockery, isn't it?" said Barkins, whose eye was at the end of the telescope. I looked at the beautiful object, with its pagoda-like terraces and hanging bells, and then at the various temples nestling high up on the sides of the hills beyond. "I say," said Smith, "can't you tell Mr Reardon--no, get the doctor to tell him--that I ought to be taken ashore for a bit to do me good?" "I'll ask him to let you go," I said; but Smith shook his head, and then screwed up his white face with a horrible look of disgust. "Oh, what a shame!" he cried. "He gets all the luck;" for a message came for me to be ready directly to go ashore with the captain in the longboat. It meant best uniform, for the weather was fine, and I knew that he would be going to pay a visit to some grand mandarin. I was quite right; for, when I reached the deck a few minutes later, there was Mr Brooke with the boat's crew, all picked men, and a strong guard of marines in full plumage for his escort. The captain came out of his cabin soon after, with cocked hat and gold lace glistening, and away we went for the shore soon after; the last things I saw on the _Teaser_ being the two disconsolate faces of my messmates at the cabin window, and Ching perched up on the hammock-rail watching our departure. I anticipated plenty of excitement that day, but was doomed to disappointment. I thought I should go with the escort to the mandarin's palace, but Mr Brooke was considered to be more attractive, I suppose, and I had the mortification of seeing the captain and his escort of marines and Jacks land, while I had to stay with the boat-keepers to broil in the sunshine and make the best of it, watching the busy traffic on the great river. Distance lends enchantment to the view of a Chinese city undoubtedly, and before long we were quite satiated with the narrow limits of our close-in view, as well as with the near presence of the crowd of rough-looking fellows who hung about and stared, as I thought, rather contemptuously at the junior officer in Her Majesty's service, who was feeling the thwarts of the boat and the hilt of his dirk most uncomfortably hot. "Like me to go ashore, sir, to that Chinesy sweetstuff shop, to get you one o' their sweet cool drinks, sir?" said one of the men, after we had sat there roasting for some time. "No, thank you, Tom Jecks," I said, in as sarcastic a tone as I could assume. "Mr Barkins says you are such a forgetful fellow, and you mightn't come back before the captain." There was a low chuckling laugh at this, and then came a loud rap. "What's that?" I said sharply. "This here, sir," said another of the men. "Some 'un's been kind enough to send it. Shall I give it him back?" "No, no!" I cried, looking uneasily shoreward; and at that moment a stone, as large as the one previously sent, struck me a sharp blow on the leg. "They're a-making cockshies of us, sir," said Tom Jecks; "better let two of us go ashore and chivvy 'em off." "Sit still, man, and--" _Whop_! "Oh, scissors!" cried a sailor; "who's to sit still, sir, when he gets a squad on the back like that? Why, I shall have a bruise as big as a hen's egg." "Oars! push off!" I said shortly, as half-a-dozen stones came rattling into the boat; and as we began to move away from the wharf quite a burst of triumphant yells accompanied a shower of stones and refuse. "That's their way o' showing how werry much obliged they are to us for sinking the pirates," growled Tom Jecks. "Oh, don't I wish we had orders to bombard this blessed town! Go it! That didn't hit you, did it, sir?" "No, it only brushed my cap," I said, as the stones began to come more thickly, and the shouting told of the keen delight the mob enjoyed in making the English retreat. "Pull away, my lads, and throw the grapnel over as soon as we are out of reach." "But we don't want to pull away, sir. They thinks we're fear'd on 'em. There's about a hundred on 'em--dirty yaller-faced beggars, and there's four o' us, without counting you. Just you give the word, sir, and we'll row back in spite o' their stones, and make the whole gang on 'em run. Eh, mates?" "Ay, ay!" said the others, lying on their oars. "Pull!" I cried sharply, and they began rowing again; for though I should have liked to give the word, I knew that it would not only have been madness, but disobedience of orders. My duty was to take care of the boat, and this I was doing by having it rowed out beyond stone-throwing reach, with the Union Jack waving astern; and as soon as the stones fell short, and only splashed the water yards away, I had the grapnel dropped overboard, and we swung to it, waiting for the captain's return. The men sat chewing their tobacco, lolling in the sun, and I lay back watching the crowd at the edge of the water, wondering how long the captain and his escort would be, and whether the prisoners would be given up. "Hope none o' them pigtailed varmint won't shy mud at the skipper," said one of the men, yawning. "I hope they will," said Tom Jecks. "Why, mate?" "'Cause he'll order the jollies to fix bayonets and feel some o' their backs with the p'ints." The conversation interested me, and I forgot my dignity as an officer, and joined in. "Bayonets make bad wounds, Jecks," I said. "Yes, sir, they do; nasty three-side wounds, as is bad to get healed up again. They aren't half such a nice honest weapon as a cutlash. But I should like to see them beggars get a prod or two." "It might mean trouble, Jecks, and a big rising of the people against the English merchants and residents." "Well, sir, that would be unpleasant for the time, but look at the good it would do! The British consul would send off to the _Teaser_, the skipper would land a lot on us--Jacks and jollies; we should give these warmint a good sharp dressing-down; and they'd know as we wouldn't stand any of their nonsense, and leave off chucking stones and mud at us. Now, what had we done that we couldn't be 'lowed to lie alongside o' the wharf yonder? We didn't say nothing to them. Fact is, sir, they hates the British, and thinks they're a sooperior kind o' people altogether. Do you hear, mates?--sooperior kind o' people; and there ain't one as could use a knife and fork like a Chrishtian." "And goes birds'-nestin' when they wants soup," said another. "Well, I don't fall foul o' that, matey," said Jecks; "'cause where there's nests there's eggs, and a good noo-laid egg ain't bad meat. It's the nastiness o' their natur' that comes in there, and makes 'em eat the nest as well. What I do holler at, is their cooking dog." "And cat," said another. "And rat," cried the third. "Yes, all on 'em," said Jecks; "and I don't want to use strong language afore one's orficer, who's a young gent as is allers thoughtful about his men, and who's beginning to think now, that with the sun so precious hot he'll be obliged to order us ashore soon for a drop o' suthin' to drink." I laughed, and Tom Jecks chuckled. "But what I do say about their eatin' and cookin' is this, and I stands by what I says, it's beastly, that's what it is--it's beastly!" "Ay, ay," was chorussed, "so it is;" and then there was silence, while we all sat uneasily in the broiling sun. "Wish I was a gal," growled one of the men at last. "Ain't good-looking enough, matey," said Jecks. "Why?" "'Cause then I s'ould have a sunshade to put up." "Ay, 'tis warm--brylin', as you may say. Any on you know whether the Chinese is cannibals? You know, sir?" "I have heard that they cook very strange things now and then," I said, laughing. "Then they is," said Jecks; "and that being so, they'll have a fine chance to-day. Hadn't you better send word to some on 'em to lay the cloth, sir?" "What for?" "'Cause I'm nearly done, sir; and Billy Wakes looks quite. Billy ought to eat nice and joocy, messmates." "And old Tom Jecks tough as leather," cried Wakes. "That's so, matey," growled Jecks, who began to pass his tongue over his lips, and to make a smacking sound with his mouth. "My hye, matey, you do seem hungry," said one of the others. "Look out, Billy, or he won't leave John Chinaman a taste." "Get out!" growled Jecks; "that don't mean hungry, messmate--that means dry. Beg pardon, sir, we won't none on us try to slope off; but a good drink o' suthin', if it was on'y water, would be a blessin' in disguise just now." "Yes, Jecks, I'm thirsty too," I said. "Then why not let us pull ashore, sir, and get a drink at one o' them Chinee imitation grog-shops yonder?" "Because it would be a breach of discipline, my man," I said, trying to speak very sternly. "I should look nice if the captain came back and found me with the boat and no men." "Hark at that now!" cried Jecks. "Just as if we'd be the chaps to get a good-natured kind young orficer into a scrape. Look here, sir, put Billy Wakes ashore to go and fetch some drink. My hye, what we would give for half-a-gallon o' real good cool solid old English beer." "Ha!" came in a deep sigh, and I could not help feeling that a glass just then would be very nice. "Will you give the order, sir?" said Jecks insinuatingly. "Billy Wakes is a werry trustworthy sort of chap." "Yes," I said; "but he'd forget to come back, and then I should have to send you to find him, and then the others to find you. I know. There, you can light your pipes if you like." "And werry thankful for small mussies," said the old sailor, taking out his pipe. "You won't want no matches, lads. Fill up and hold the bowls in the sun." They lit up, and began smoking, while I watched the long narrow street down which the captain and his escort must come. "Think we shall have to land the prisoners, sir?" said Jecks, after a smoky silence. "I suppose so," I replied. "I expect that is what the captain has gone ashore about." "Don't seem much good, that, sir. We takes 'em, and they'll let 'em go, to start a fresh lot o' plundering junks." "Thundering junks, matey?" said Billy Wakes. "I said plundering, Billy, and meant it. Your eddication ain't what it oughter be." "No, Jecks," I said; "if the pirates are given up, they'll be executed for certain." "Who says so, sir?" "First lieutenant," I said. "Well, he ought to know, sir. Been on the Chinee station afore. P'raps it's best, but I don't want 'em to be hung." "Don't hang 'em here, Tommy," growled one of the two silent men. "What do they do, then, old know-all?" "Chops their heads off, I've heerd." "Oh, well, I don't want 'em to have their heads chopped off. How should we like it if we was took prisoners?" "Oh, but we arn't Chinees," growled Billy Wakes. "Nor arn't likely to be, mate; but we've got heads all the same. I know how I should like to be executed if it was to-day." The others looked up, and I could not help turning my head at the strangely-expressed desire. "I'll tell yer," said Jecks, looking hard at me. "I should like it to be same as they did that young chap as we reads of in history. They drowned him in a big tub o' wine." "Grog would do for me," said Billy Wakes. "Or beer," cried the others. "Ask the captain to let you have some tea," I cried, "Quick, haul up the grapnel! Here they come!" Pipes were knocked out on the instant, the grapnel hauled up, and oars seized; but, in spite of urging on the men, I saw to my vexation that the captain had reached the landing-place first, and I kept him waiting nearly five minutes in the broiling sun. He did not say anything, only glared at me as he stepped in, followed by his escort. The oars were dropped, and, as we began to row back to the _Teaser_, I saw that his face was scarlet with the heat, and he looked in a regular temper. "I shall catch it," I thought to myself; but the very next moment my attention was taken to the shore, where a yell of derision arose from the crowd gathered to see the officers embark. "Brutes!" muttered the captain; and then he sprang up in a rage, for a shower of stones came pattering into the boat, and splashing up the water all round. He was so enraged by the insult, that he ordered the marines to load, and a volley of twelve rifles was fired over the people's heads. The result was that they all ran helter-skelter, tumbling over each other, and by the time they returned and began throwing again we were out of their reach, but they kept on hurling stones and refuse all the same, and shouting "Foreign devils!" in their own tongue. CHAPTER SIXTEEN. AN INTERVIEW. "Mr Herrick! Come to my cabin," said the captain as he stepped on deck, and I followed him. "You stupid fellow," whispered Mr Brooke as I passed him, "why didn't you keep the boat by the wharf?" I gave him a comical look, and followed the captain; but I was kept waiting for a few moments at the door while the servant was summoned, and when I did go in my officer was lying back in his chair, with ice on the table, and a great glass of what seemed to be soda-water and brandy before him, but which proved by the decanter to be sherry. "Oh," he cried angrily, "there you are, sir! Why didn't you come at once, sir?" "I did, sir; but was kept waiting till you were ready." "Well, sir, don't answer in that pert way. It sounds like insolence. That will not do, Mr Herrick, if you wish to get on in your profession. Now, sir, your orders were to stop by the landing-place, with the boat in charge, ready for my return, were they not?" "Yes, sir; but--" "Silence, sir! How dare you interrupt me? I go up through the broiling heat to have an interview with that wretched, stolid, obstinate mandarin, with his confounded button and peacock-feather; and when I do get back, perfectly exhausted by the heat, half-dead, I find no boat." "No, sir; but--" "Silence, sir! Will you let me speak? The consequence is that, because you choose to disobey orders, and take the men off to indulge in some of the disgusting drinks of this wretched country--" "I beg pardon, sir," I cried; "I--" "Mr Herrick! am I to place you under arrest? Be silent, sir. I say, I return with my escort from an important diplomatic visit, arranged so as to impress the people, and when I return, almost fainting with the heat, there is no boat, because you have allowed the men to impose upon you; and you are away drinking with them, I suppose?" "No, sir; I--" "Mr Herrick!" he roared, "I will not bear it. I say there was no boat; and not only am I forced to submit to the indignity of waiting, and listening to the gibes of the low-class Chinese, and to see their scowls, but our delay there--through you, sir--results, I say results, in the miserable wretches taking advantage thereof, and, thinking me helpless, working themselves up to an attack. When at last you do come crawling up with those four men, they are purple-faced from drinking, every one threatened by apoplexy--why, your own face is crimson, sir; and I could smell the men when I stepped on board." "No, sir--the dirty harbour, sir," I said. "Smells horrid." "You are under arrest, sir. Go! No; stop and hear me out first, sir. I say that, through your delay, I am kept there on that wretched wharf; and when I do push off, I have--I, Her Majesty's representative, in the sight of these Chinese scoundrels--I have, I say, to suffer from the insult and contumely of being pelted, stoned, of having filth thrown at me. Look at my nearly new uniform coat, sir. Do you see this spot on the sleeve? A mark that will never come out. That was a blow, sir, made by a disgusting rotten fish's head, sir. Loathsome--loathsome! While the insult to Her Majesty's flag called upon me to fire upon the mob. Do you know what that means, sir?" "Yes, sir; a good lesson. They won't be so saucy again." "You ignorant young puppy!" he cried; "it may mean a serious international trouble--a diplomatic breach, and all through you. There, I was hot and bad enough before, now you have made me worse." He stretched out his hand for the glass, but did not drink; and the sight of the cool liquid half-maddened me, for the heat and emotion had made my throat very dry. "Now, sir," he cried, "I am your commanding officer, and no one on board Her Majesty's cruiser shall ever say that I am not just. Now then, speak out; what have you to say? How came you to let the men go away to drink?" "I didn't, sir," I said huskily. "They wanted to go, for they were choking nearly, but I wouldn't let them." "What? Don't seek refuge in a lie, boy. That's making your fault ten times worse. Didn't I see you returning to the wharf?" "Yes, sir," I cried indignantly; "but the men had not been to drink." "Then how dared you disobey my orders, and go away?" he roared, furious at being proved wrong. "I went, sir, because it was my duty." "What!" "We stayed till the stone-throwing grew dangerous for us, and then I had the boat rowed out and anchored." "Oh!" "But I kept watch till you came in sight, sir; and we were as quick as we could be." "The mob pelted you too, Mr Herrick?" "Yes, sir," I said; "and we couldn't fire over their heads, nor yet row right away." He looked at me angrily, and then his countenance changed. "Pert, Mr Herrick," he said, "but very apt. You have me there on the hop. Dear me! I've made a great mistake, eh?" "Yes, sir," I said hoarsely. "And you sat out there in the broiling sun, and the miserable savages pelted you as they did me?" "Yes, sir." "Tut, tut, tut! and the heat was maddening. Terribly irritating, too; I felt excessively angry. I really--dear me, Mr Herrick, I'm afraid I spoke very unjustly to you, and--I--ought a captain to apologise to a midshipman?" "I really don't know, sir," I said, feeling quite mollified by his tone. "Well, I think I do," he said, smiling. "Decidedly not. As Mr Reardon would say, it would be totally subversive of discipline. It couldn't be done. But one gentleman can of course apologise to another, and I do so most heartily. My dear Mr Herrick, I beg your pardon for being so unjust." "Pray don't say any more about it, sir," I cried. "Well, no, I will not. But all the same I am very sorry--as a gentleman--that I--as your superior officer--spoke to you as I did." "Thank you, sir." "And, dear me, my lad, you look terribly hot and exhausted. Let me prescribe, as Mr Price would say." He quickly placed a lump of ice in a tumbler, and, after pouring in a little sherry, filled it up with soda-water. I grasped the glass, and drank with avidity the cool, refreshing draught to the last drop. "Humph! you were thirsty." "I was choking, sir," I said, with a sigh, as I placed the glass upon the table. "And now, Mr Herrick, perhaps it would be as well not to talk about this little interview," he said quietly. "I rely upon you as a gentleman." "Of course, sir," I replied; and feeling, in spite of the severe wigging I had had, that I never liked the captain half so well before, I backed out and hurried to my own cabin. CHAPTER SEVENTEEN. WE LOSE OUR PRISONERS. "Here he is," cried Barkins, who was resting his leg; while Smith was sitting by the open window so as to catch all the air he could. "Got your promotion?" "Got my what?" I cried. "Promotion. I never saw such favouritism. Always being sent for to the skipper's cabin. I wonder Reardon stands it." "Don't talk nonsense," I cried. "Phew, isn't it hot?" "Yes, for us. Regular prisoners, while you have all the fun--" "Of being roasted, and then stoned by the Chinese." "That's right," said Smith sulkily, "make as little as you can of it. Did the skipper consult you about our next movement?" "He gave me a good bullying for not having the boat ready when he wanted to come on board." "Was that why you went in the cabin?" cried Barkins. "Of course." "Oh then, if that's the case, we'll let you off. Eh, Blacksmith?" "Well, I suppose so." "Let me off what?" "We had been discussing the matter," said Barkins, "Smithy and I, and come to the conclusion that as you were such a swell you were too good for us, and we were going to expel you; but, under the circumstances, I think we'll let you off this time. Oh!" "What's the matter?" "My leg! There's that horrible tingling and aching again. I'm sure that knife was poisoned." "Hi! look here," cried Smith just then; "here are two big row-boats coming out to us." We both made for the window, and there, in the bright sunshine, were two large barges, gay with gilding and showy ensigns, coming pretty swiftly in our direction, while, as they drew nearer, we could see that their occupants were in brilliant costumes and fully-armed, swords and spears flashing, and gold and silver embroidery lending their glow to the general effect. "Why, those must be all the big pots of the city," said Barkins--"these in the first boat." "And the second is full of soldiers." "I know," I cried; "they're coming to fetch the prisoners. I must go on deck." "And we shall see nothing of the fun again," cried Barkins. "Why not?" I said; "I'll help you on deck." "Come on, then," cried Barkins eagerly. "Oh, hang this wound!" He caught hold of my shoulder, and with a little pulling and hauling I got him on deck, hurting him a good deal, I'm afraid, but he bore it like a martyr, till I had him seated upon a place near the starboard gangway. I then turned to go and help up Smith, but found he had called in the aid of a couple of the sailors, and the next minute he too was seated by Barkins. Meanwhile the drum had called the men to quarters, the officers were on deck in uniform, and the marines drawn-up to form a guard of honour, sufficiently smart and warlike, with the white-ducked Jacks, and big guns bright as hands could make them, to impress the barbaric party coming on board. The boats were rowing very near now, and the captain came on deck, to stand under the awning which had been stretched out since the _Teaser_ had been restored to order. Then the gangway was opened, the steps were lowered, and half-a-dozen Jacks descended to help the visitors to mount, while the marines stood at attention. The boatmen managed to fall foul of the side, and nearly upset the barge, but our lads saved them from that disaster; and the mandarin and his suite, who had come off, soon mounted to the deck, to stand haughtily returning the salutes of the officers. Then there was an awkward pause, for our officers only knew a few words of Chinese, while the mandarin's party, although they had had Englishmen in their city for nearly a hundred years, could not speak a word of our tongue, and they had brought no interpreter. There was an awkward pause, broken by a high-pitched voice just outside the gorgeous-looking throng. "You wantee Ching?" "Yes," cried the captain; "tell these gentlemen that they are heartily welcome on board Her Majesty's ship." Ching nodded, and, bowing down humbly, gazed at the white deck, and squeaked out a long speech to the contemptuous-looking Chinese official, who stood in front of his attendants, each in his long, stiff, embroidered silk dressing-gown; and what seemed the most comically effeminate was that the gorgeous officers, with rat-tail moustachios and armed with monstrous swords, each carried a fan, which he used constantly. "He's putting an awful lot of fat in the captain's speech," whispered Barkins, who was just behind me. Then the chief of the party said a few words, without condescending to notice the interpreter, and Ching backed away, to turn to the captain. "His most noble excellency the big-buttoned mandalin has come on board the gleat fine ship with his genelals, and blavest of the blave, to fetch the most wicked and double-bad plisoners whom the gleat sea captain of the foleign devils--" "Eh! what?" said Captain Thwaites. "Did he say that?" "Yes. Come fetch allee bad bad plisoners velly much all together." "Very well," said the captain; "tell him he can have them, and welcome." Ching approached the mandarin again, in his former humble form, and made another long speech; after which the great official turned to one of his attendants and said something; this gorgeous being turned and spoke to another; and he went to the gangway and stood fanning himself as he squeaked out something to the soldiers in the second boat. Then an order was given, and in a curious shambling way about forty soldiers came up the steps, and ranged themselves in a double row, something after the fashion of our drilling. I was watching these men with their heavy swords and clumsy spears, when there was a clanking sound, and a dozen more men came on deck with quite a load of heavy chains, which at a word of command they banged down with a crash upon the deck, and then stood waiting. At the same moment the captain gave an order, and our marine officer marched off with a strong detachment of his men right forward; and after a pause, during which Englishmen and Chinamen stood staring at each other and the grandees used their fans, the first prisoner was brought forward by a couple of marines, strolling along in a heavy, careless way till he was abreast of his fellow-countrymen. Then at a word from an officer four soldiers seized the unfortunate wretch and threw him heavily down upon his face; two knelt upon him, and in a trice heavy chains were fitted to his legs and wrists, the latter being dragged behind his back. Then, by one consent, the four Chinamen leaped up, and waited for the prisoner to follow their example, but he lay still. "If he has any gumption he won't move," whispered Barkins, who like myself was an interested spectator. Mr Reardon walked to us. "Silence, young gentlemen," he said sternly. "Let us show these barbarians what dishipline is.--Brute!" This last applied to one of the Chinamen, who said something to the prisoner, who merely wagged his tail, and then received a tremendous kick in the ribs. He sprang up then like a wild-beast, but he was seized by as many as could get a grip of him, bundled to the gangway, and almost thrown down into the barge, where other men seized him and dragged him forward to where some spearmen stood ready on guard. By this time another had been thrown down and chained. He made no scruple about rising and walking to the side to be bundled down. Another followed, and another, the grandees hardly glancing at what was going on, but standing coolly indifferent and fanning away, now and then making some remark about the ship, the guns, or the crew. Seven had been chained, and the eighth was brought forward by two marines, seized, thrown down, and fettered. Then, instead of allowing himself to be bundled into the boat as apathetically as the others, he gazed fiercely to right and left, and I saw that something was coming. So did the indifferent-looking Chinese, for one of the most gorgeously dressed of the party whipped out a heavy curved sword, whose blade was broader at the end than near the hilt, and made for him; but, active as a cat, and in spite of the weight of his chains, the man made a series of bounds, knocked over two of the soldiers, and leaped at the gangway behind them, reached the top, and fell more than jumped over, to go down into the water with a heavy splash. Half-a-dozen of the men leaped on to the rail, and stood looking down, before the captain could give an order; while a few words were shouted from the barge below. The officer returned his sword, and began fanning himself again; the soldiers seized the next prisoner and began chaining him, but no one stirred to save the man overboard, and we all grasped the reason why,-- twenty pounds of iron fetters took him to the bottom like a stone. I saw the captain frown as he said something to Mr Reardon, who merely shook his head. "Ain't they going to lower a boat, sir?" I whispered to Mr Brooke. "We could do no good," he said. "There are twenty fathoms of water out there, Herrick, and the man could not rise." The incident did not seem to discompose the Chinese, who disposed of the next prisoner. And then I saw that the marines had charge of another, who suddenly made an attempt to escape, and our men only having one hand, at liberty, the other holding a rifle, he would have succeeded, had not six or seven of the soldiers rushed at and seized him, dragging him to the lessening heap of chains, when he suddenly threw up his hands and dropped upon his knees, throwing them off their guard by making believe to resign himself to his fate. But before the first fetter could be dragged to where he knelt, he sprang up with the fire of fury in his eyes, and made a rush at the mandarin, seized him, and it would have gone ill with his gaudy costume, had not a couple of the officers dragged out their swords. What followed took only a moment or two. I saw the blades flash, heard a sickening sound, and saw the prisoner stagger away, while the second of the two officers followed him, delivering chop after chop with his heavy blade, till the unfortunate wretch dropped upon the deck, where he was at once seized and pitched overboard without the slightest compunction. "Here, interpreter, tell the chief I cannot have my deck turned into a butcher's shamble like this," cried the captain angrily. Ching shuffled forward, and advanced towards the mandarin, spoke at length; the mandarin replied with a haughty smile, and Ching backed away again. "Gleat big-button mandalin say he velly much 'blige captain big fine ship, and he allee light, no hurtee 'tall by killee badee bad men." "Bah!" ejaculated the captain, turning angrily away; and I saw Mr Reardon's face grow fixed, as if carved in wood, in his efforts to keep from smiling. The last of the prisoners had been brought out of confinement, thrown down, chained, and bundled into the barge, half the soldiers followed, orders were given, and the second barge pushed off, when the captain once more had recourse to Ching's help. "Ask the mandarin if he will come into the cabin and take a glass of wine." But this was declined, and Ching communicated the fact that the great man "would not eatee dlinkee, but wantee velly much see ship." He was taken round, the whole following keeping at his heels, and his officers and soldiers scowling fiercely, or looking about with supreme contempt, as they made a great display of their weapons, and acted generally as if they were condescending to look round, so as to be civil to the Western barbarians. At last they went over the side, and the gorgeous barge was rowed away. "Thank goodness, Reardon," I heard the captain say; and directly after, as I was passing, Tom Jecks' voice was heard in the midst of a group of the Jacks. "Say, messmate," he said, "fancy, stripped and fists only, how many Chinese could you polish off?" "Dunno," said a voice, which I knew to be that of Billy Wakes, a big manly-looking young Plymouth fellow. "'Course I could do one, and I think I could doctor two on 'em; I'd have a try at three; and I'm blest if I'd run away from four. That is about as fair as I can put it, messmate." I was helping Barkins to the companion-way, and Smith was walking very slowly by us. But as we heard this we stopped to laugh, just as Mr Brooke came up and asked what amused us. We told him, and he laughed too. "That means one of our fellows would try at four Chinamen. He's too modest. Four to one, lads! why, if it came to real righting, ten of them would follow me against a hundred of the enemy. Ten to one.--News for you." "News, sir; what?" I said. "We sail again directly. There is another gang at work south, and we have a hint of the whereabouts of their nest." CHAPTER EIGHTEEN. IN A TRAP. "Ever feel at all uncomfortable about--that--Chinaman, Morris?" I said one day, after we had been coasting along the shore southward for about a week. I had not encountered that marine sentry alone since the terrible scene in the place where the prisoners were confined; and now, as soon as I saw him, the whole affair came back with all its shuddering horrors, and I felt quite a morbid desire to talk to him about it. "What, bayoneting him, sir?" said the man quietly. "Well, no, sir, it's very odd, but I never have much. I was so excited when I see him with his knife ashining by the light o' the corporal's lantern, that all the bayonet practice come to me quite natural like, and, as you know, I give point from the guard, and he jumped right on it, and I held him down after as you would a savage kind of tiger thing, and felt quite pleased like at having saved the first luff's life. After you'd gone all the lads got talking about it, and I felt as proud as a peacock with ten tails. And I got wondering, too, about what Mr Reardon would do, for he said he would see me again. It was all very well then, but that night when I turned in I felt quite sick, and I couldn't sleep a wink. The more I turned about in my hammock, the hotter and worser I got. There it all was before me, I could see myself holding that pirate chap pinned down, and there was his eyes rolling and his teeth snapping as he twisted about. Ugh! it was horrid, sir; and I felt as I was in for it, and began to understand what one has read about chaps as commits murder always being haunted like with thoughts of what they've done, and never being happy no more. Then it got worse and worse, and I says to myself, `If it was as bad as that for just doing your duty, and saving your officer's life, what must it be when you kills a man out o' sheer wickedness to get his money?'" The man stopped then, and looked round to see if any one was within hearing, but we were quite alone, and he went on quietly-- "You won't laugh at me, sir, will you?" "Laugh?" I cried wonderingly. "It's too horrible to laugh about." "Yes, sir; but I meant, feel ready to chaff about it, and tell the other young gentlemen, and get thinking me soft." "Of course not, Morris." "No, sir, you ain't that sort. You've got a mother, too, ain't you?" "Yes; but I shouldn't have liked her to see all we saw that day." "No, sir, you wouldn't. I haven't got no mother now, sir, but I did have one once." I felt ready to smile, but I kept my countenance. "Seems rum of a big ugly fellow like me talking about his mother, sir; but, Lor' bless you! all us chaps has got a bit of a soft spot somewhere insides us for our old woman, even them as never talks about it; and do you know, sir, that night just when I felt worst as I rolled about in my hammock, and was going to get out and find the bucket of water for a drink, I got thinking about my old mother, and how she used to come and tuck me up in bed of a night, and kiss me and say, Gawd bless me, and then of how she used to talk to me and tell me always to do what was right, and, no matter what happened, I should feel at rest. And then I got thinking as I must have done very wrong in killing that Chinee, to feel as bad as I did. And I got arguing it over first one way and then the other for a minute or two, and the next thing I remember is it being tumble-up time, and till you spoke to me about it just now, I've never hardly thought about it since. It was doing my duty, sir, of course; now, warn't it?" "Of course, Morris," I said importantly; and the man nodded, looked satisfied, and then glanced to right and left again before unbuttoning his jacket and cautiously pulling out an old-fashioned gold watch. "Why, hallo, Morris!" I cried. "Hush, sir; keep it quiet. Mr Reardon give it to me the day afore yesterday, and said I wasn't to talk about it, for it was just between ourselves." "It's a fine old watch," I said, feeling glad that the man we lads looked upon as such a stem tyrant could show so warm and generous a side to his nature. "Said, sir, he gave it to me for attending so well to dishipline, as he called it, for he said if I had not attended well to my drill, there would have been no first lieutenant to give me a watch out of gratitude for saving his life." "You must take care of that, Morris," I said. "Yes, sir," he said dolefully. "That's the worst of it. Gold watch is an orkard thing for a marine, but I mean to try." "And be very careful to wind it up regularly every night." He looked at me with his face all wrinkled up. "Would you, sir--would you wind it up?" "Why, of course; what's a watch for?" "Well, that depends, sir. It's all right for a gentleman, but don't seem no good to me. We allus knows how many bells it is, and the sergeants takes good care that we're in time for everything. It's rather in my way, too. Look here, sir; s'pose you took care of it for me to the end of the voyage?" "Oh no, Morris. You'll soon get used to having a watch," I said. "Take care of it yourself." He shook his head. "I don't know as I can, sir," he said. "If it had been a silliver one, I shouldn't so much have minded. I was thinking of sewing it up in the padding of my jacket." "No, no; keep it in your pocket and never part with it," I said. "It's a watch to be proud of, for it was earned in a noble way." "Thankye, sir," he cried, as I stood wondering at my own words; "that's done me good;" and he buttoned his jacket up with an intense look of satisfaction. "I'm beginning to think the doctor was right, Gnat," said Barkins one morning. "What about?" I said. "My wound; I don't think the knife was poisoned." "Why, of course it wasn't; you fancied it all." "Well, I couldn't help that, could I? You wait till you get your wound, and then see how you'll begin to fancy all sorts of things. I say, though, Smithy's getting right pretty quick. The doctor's pitched him over. I should have sent him back to his duty before, if I'd been old Physic. He was all right yesterday." "How do you know?" "Because he was so nasty tempered. Nothing was good enough for him." "Oh, come, I like that," cried Smith, who overheard him. "Why, I was as patient as could be; I appeal to the Poet. Did I ever go fussing about telling people I was wounded by a poisoned knife?" "No," I said; "you were both magnificent specimens of brave young midshipmen, and behaved splendidly." "Oh, did we?" cried Barkins. "Look here, Blacksmith, we'll remember this, and as soon as we're strong enough we'll punch his head." "Agreed. He's been growing as cocky as a bantam since we've been ill. We must take him down." "Why, what for?" I cried. "Making game of your betters. Sarce, as Tom Jecks calls it." We had something else to think of three days later, and in the excitement both my messmates forgot their wounds, save when some quick movement gave them a reminder that even the healing of a clean cut in healthy flesh takes time. For we overhauled a suspicious-looking, fast-sailing junk, which paid no heed to our signals, but was brought to after a long chase, and every man on board was chuckling and thinking about prize-money. But when she was boarded, with Ching duly established as interpreter, and all notion of returning to the "fancee shop" put aside for the present, the junk turned out to be a peaceful trader trying to make her escape from the pursuit of pirates, as we were considered to be. Ching soon learned the cause of the captain's alarm. The day before he had come upon a junk similar to his own, with the crew lying murdered on board, and, judging from appearances, the wretches who had plundered her could not have gone long. Mr Brooke was the officer in charge of the boat, and he told Ching to ask the master of the junk whether he had seen any signs of the pirates. The man eagerly replied that he had seen three fast boats entering the Ayshong river, some thirty miles north of where we then were, and as soon as he found that we really were the boat's crew of a ship working for the protection of the shipping trade, his joy and excitement were without bounds, and showed itself in presents,--a chest of tea for the crew, and pieces of silk for Mr Brooke and myself; parting with us afterwards in the most friendly way, and, as Ching afterwards told me, saying that we were the nicest foreign devils he ever met. Our news when we went on board made the captain change our course. We were bound for a river a hundred miles lower down, but it was deemed advisable to go back and proceed as far up the Ayshong, as a fresh nest of the desperadoes might be discovered there. By night we were off the muddy stream, one which appeared to be of no great width, but a vast body of water rushed out from between the rocky gates, and from the desolate, uninhabited look of the shores it seemed probable that we might find those we sought up there. It was too near night to do much, so the captain contented himself with getting close in after the boat sent to take soundings, and at dark we were anchored right in the mouth, with the watch doubled and a boat out as well to patrol the river from side to side, to make sure that the enemy, if within, did not pass us in the darkness. All lights were out and perfect silence was maintained, while, excited by the prospect of another encounter, not a man displayed the slightest disposition to go to his hammock. It was one of those soft, warm, moist nights suggestive of a coming storm, the possibility of which was soon shown by the faint quivering of the lightning in the distance. "Storm before morning," whispered Barkins. "Yes," said Smith; "storm of the wrong sort. I want to hear our guns going, not thunder." From time to time the boat which was on the patrol duty came alongside to report itself, but there was no news; in fact, none was expected, for such a dark night was not one that would be chosen by vessels wishing to put to sea. I had been disposed to ask for permission to go in the boat, but Mr Reardon's countenance looked rather stormy, so I had given up the idea, and contented myself with stopping on board with my two messmates, to watch the dark mouth of the river. It soon grew very monotonous, having nothing to see but the shapes of the distant clouds, which stood out now and then like dimly-seen mountains high up above the land. But by degrees the distant flickering of the lightning grew nearer, and went on slowly growing brighter, till from time to time, as we leaned over the bulwarks, listening to the faint rushing sound of the river, sweeping past the chain cable, and dividing again upon our sharp bows, we obtained a glimpse of the shore on either side. Then it glimmered on the black, dirty-looking stream, and left us in greater darkness than ever. Once we made out our boat quite plainly, and at last there came so vivid a flash that we saw the river upward for quite a mile, and I made out the low shores, but could see no sign of house or vessel moored anywhere near where we lay. Another hour must have passed, during which we made out that the country on either side was flat and marshy, but we could see no sign of human habitation. As far as could be made out, the river was about three hundred yards broad, and about this time we became aware that it must be very nearly low tide, for the stream which passed us was growing more and more sluggish, till at last it ceased ebbing, and the _Teaser_ began to swing slowly round, a sufficient indication that the tide had turned. We had swung to our anchor till we were right across the stream, when from higher up a shot was fired, and, as if caused by the report, a dazzling flash cut right across the heavens, lighting up the river with its muddy sides, and there, not five hundred yards away, we made out two large junks that had come down with the tide, which had now failed them, just as they were close to the mouth. All had been perfectly silent so far, but as the intense darkness succeeded the brilliant flash, there was a loud gabbling and shouting from the direction of the junks, then came the splashing of great oars, followed by their regular beating, and, as we swung further round with the men hurrying to their quarters, the boat came alongside, and was hoisted. "Well, Mr Brooke?" "Two large junks, sir; come down with the tide; they've put about, sir, and are going back." "Sure?" "Yes, sir, certain. Hark!" The hissing sound of the tide had recommenced, and above it we could hear the splash, splash of great sweeps, sounding hurried and irregular, as if the men at them were making all the haste they could. Every now and then, too, came a curious creaking sound, as wood was strained against wood. "Tide's setting in very hard, sir," said Mr Brooke. "Yes," said the captain. "Come on board; ha!" There was another vivid flash, and we distinctly saw the great matting-sails of two junks for a moment, and again all was black. "Come on board, Mr Brooke; they could not sweep those great craft out against such a tide as this, and there is no wind to help them even if they wished." Then the falls were hooked on, after the coxswain had with some difficulty drawn the cutter up to where the light of a lantern was thrown down for his guidance, the men stamped along the deck, and the cutter rose to the davits for the men to spring on board. Daylight found us lying head to sea, with the tide rushing up, a beautifully verdant country spreading out on either side, but no habitation in sight, and our men in great glee, for it was pretty evident that unless the junks should prove to be merchantmen, we had come upon a little-known river, up which we had trapped the pirates, who had been to land plunder at their nest, and were about to make their way again to sea. CHAPTER NINETEEN. UP THE RIVER. The threatening of a storm had passed away, and the sun rose upon us, showing distant mountains of a delicious blue, and the river winding inland broader than at its mouth, and, as far as could be seen, free of additional entrances through which an enemy could escape to sea. Steam was got up, the _Teaser's_ head swung round, and, after the lead had shown great depth and a muddy bottom, we began to glide steadily up with the tide. Our progress was very slow, for, as you will easily understand, and must have noted scores of times in connection with some wreck, a ship is of immense weight, and, even if moving ever so slowly, touching a rock at the bottom means a tremendous grinding crash, and either the vessel fixed, perhaps without the possibility of removal, or a hole made which will soon cause it to sink. Navigation, then, is beset with dangers for a captain. If he is in well-known waters, matters are simple enough; every rock will be marked upon his chart, every mile near shore will have been sounded, and he will know to a foot or two how much water is beneath his keel. But as soon as he ventures up some strange creek or river, paradoxically speaking, "he is at sea." In other words, he would be journeying haphazard, if the greatest precautions were not taken. These precautions were soon taken, a couple of boats being sent on ahead with a man in each taking soundings, while we had this advantage--we were journeying with a rising tide, and the river naturally grew deeper and deeper. But we encountered no difficulty; we steamed on just fast enough to give the vessel steerage way, while the boats went on, the leads were heaved, and the result was always the same; plenty of water, and so soft and muddy a bottom, that even if we had gone aground, all that would have happened would have been a little delay while we waited for the tide to lift us off. The course of the river was so winding that we could not see far ahead. Hence it was that a careful look-out was kept as we rounded each bend, expecting at every turn to see a kind of port to which the piratical junks resorted, and with a village, if not a town, upon the shore. But we went on and on without success, the river, if anything, growing wider, till all at once, as we were slowly gliding round a bend, leaving a thick track of black smoke in the misty morning air, one of the men in the top hailed the deck. "Sail ho, sir!" "Where away?" "Dead astarn, sir!" "What?" "Dead astarn, sir!" Two of the men near me burst into a laugh, which they tried to hide as the first lieutenant looked sharply round. But there, sure enough, were the tops of the junk's masts dead astern, for the course of the river proved to be just there almost exactly like that piece of twisted flat wire which ladies fasten on the backs of their dresses, and call an eye; the great stream forming first a small circle, and then going right away to form the large loop of the eye, while the junks were lying at the far side of the loop, so that to reach them where they lay, right across an open plain about two miles in width, we had to sail for some distance right away, apparently leaving them right behind. A little use of the telescope soon showed that we were going quite right, though, and we went steadily on with the boats ahead sounding, and the men waiting to be called to quarters. "I don't believe it's going to be a fight, Gnat!" cried Smith. "Why not?" "Can't smell anything like prize-money in it. They're only a couple of big trading junks." "Then why did they run away from us as they did?" "Same reason as the one did last time. Thought we meant mischief. How stupid it is taking all this trouble to crawl up a muddy river." "What's he talking about?" said Barkins, stepping over to our side for a moment before every one would have to be in his place, and unable to stir. "Says they're trading junks." "Then it's all up. He knows. Either his wound or the doctoring has made him go better. He's awfully sharp now. I'll go and tell the skipper to turn back." "That's right; chaff away," cried Smith. "Look at the place we're in! There isn't a sign of a town. What would bring pirates up here?" "Pirates don't want towns, do they, stupid?" cried Barkins; "they want a place to lay up their ships in, and here it is. I'll bet anything those are pirates, but we shan't catch 'em." "Why?" I asked. "Think they'll go up higher where we can't follow?" "Could follow 'em in the boats, couldn't we, clever? Hi! look! they're on the move! They're pirates, and are going up higher because they see us. But we shan't catch 'em. If they are getting the worst of it, they'll run themselves aground, and get ashore to make a dash for it." Barkins was right; they were on the move, as we could distinctly see now, and my messmate said again-- "Yes, it's all over; they'll follow this river right away to the other side, and come out in the Black Sea, or somewhere else. We draw too much water to follow them farther." But we did follow them a great deal farther, and found that on the whole, in spite of our careful progress, we gained upon the junks, getting so near them once from their position across a bend of the river that a discussion took place as to whether it would not be advisable to open fire at long range. But no gun spoke, and we kept on slowly, carried by the tide, and with the screw revolving just sufficiently for steering purposes, till once more the course of the river grew pretty straight, and the junks were in full view, our glasses showing the men toiling away at the long sweeps, and that the decks were crowded. This last was intensely satisfactory, for it swept away the last doubts as to the character of the vessels. Up to this point it was possible that they might have been trading junks whose skippers had taken alarm, but no mercantile junks would have carried such crews as we could see, with their bald heads shining in the sun. Just about that time Smith and I passed Tom Jecks, who gave me a peculiar look. "What is it?" I said, stopping to speak. "Can't you put in a word to the skipper, sir, and get him to stir up the engyneers?" "What for, Tom?" "To go faster, sir. It's horrid, this here. Why, I could go and ketch 'em in the dinghy." "Do you want the _Teaser_ stuck in the mud?" I said. "No, sir, o' course not; but I say, sir, do you think it's all right?" "What do you mean, Jecks?" "This here river, sir. I ayve read in a book about Chinee Tartars and magicians and conjurors. There was that chap in `Aladdin' as left the boy shut up down below. He were a Chinee, wasn't he?" "I think so, Tom; but what have the _Arabian Nights_ got to do with our hunting these pirates?" "Well, that's what I want to know, sir. If there was magic in them days in China, mayn't there be some left now?" "No, Tom," I said. "We've got more magic on board the _Teaser_ in the shape of steam, than there is of the old kind in all China." "Well, sir, you've had more schooling than ever I've had, but if it ain't a bit magicky about them boats, I should like to know what it is." "What's he talking about?" said Smith. "What do you mean?" "They're will-o'-the-wispy sort o' boats, sir," replied Jecks. "Don't you see how they keep dodging on us? Just now they was in easy shot, now they're two mile away. What does that mean?" "Physical conformation of the road," said Smith importantly. "Oh, is it, sir?" said Jecks, scratching his head, with a dry smile on his face. "Well, I shouldn't have thought as physic had anything to do with that, but I daresay you're right, sir. Wish we could give them junks physic." "I don't believe we shall get near enough to give them a dose," said Smith discontentedly. "If I were the skipper, I'd--" Smith did not say what he would, for just then there was a shout from the boat, the man with the lead giving such shallow soundings that we heard the gongs sound in the engine-room, and the clank of the machinery as it was stopped and reversed. Then orders were given for soundings to be taken right across the river, but the result was always the same; the stream had suddenly shallowed, and it was at first supposed to be a bar; but sounding higher up proved that the shoal water was continuous, and though the lighter-draft junks had gone on, they had now come to a standstill, which suggested that they too had been stopped. "Told you so," grumbled Barkins, joining us. "All this trouble for nothing. Why didn't the skipper open fire and blow 'em out of the water when he had a chance?" "Go and ask him, Mr Barkins," said Mr Brooke, who overheard his remark. "And if I were you, I'd ask him at the same time why it is amateurs can always manage better than the leader." Mr Brooke nodded, and I saw that he looked very serious as he walked aft, and a minute later I knew why. "Bah!" growled Smith, as soon as he was out of hearing. "Shouldn't have listened." "No," said Barkins. "It isn't quite manly to play the spy. Talk about snubbing, why is it officers should think it so precious fine to be always dropping on to their juniors? Now, then, look out! there's orders coming. The old _Teaser's_ going to waggle her tail between her legs, and we're going back again. More waste of Her Majesty's coals." "If we don't lie-to till the tide turns," I said. "Oh, I say, you two look sharp and get quite well again; I didn't know that having wounds would make fellows so sour." "Who's sour. Here, let's get aft; quick, or we shall be out of the fun." For the whistles were going, and the men springing to the boats, three of which were manned, and the one lying alongside being filled with a strong, well-armed crew. We all three did press forward, in the full hope of being sent as well, and made ourselves so prominent that I saw Mr Reardon frown. But no orders came; and at last, in a great state of excitement, Barkins seized the opportunity to speak. "May I go in the longboat, sir?" "You--lame still from your wound, sir? Absurd! No, nor you neither, Mr Smith." He caught my eye just then, but turned away, and I could not help feeling disappointed, though I knew well enough that the risk would have been great. "Oh, I do call it a shame," grumbled Barkins, as the order was given, the men cheered, and, under the command of Mr Brooke, the four boats pushed off, the oars dropped, the oily water splashed in the bright sunshine, and each boat with its colours trailing astern glided rapidly up-stream. "Yes, it's too bad," grumbled Smith in turn, who unconsciously began nursing his arm as if it pained him. "Why, it's worse for me," I cried. "I'm quite strong and well. I ought to have gone." Barkins exploded with silent laughter, laid his hand on Smith's shoulder, and said huskily, as if he were choking with mirth-- "I say, hark at him! What for? There'll be plenty of mosquitoes up there to sting the poor fellows; they don't want a gnat to tickle them and make them fight." "No," said Smith. "Never mind, little boy, be good, and we'll take you on an expedition some day." "All right," I replied; "I don't mind your chaff, only you needn't be so nasty because you are disappointed." "Mr Herrick! Where's Mr Herrick?" cried the first lieutenant. "Here, sir," I shouted; and I could not help giving my companions a look full of triumph as I dashed aft. "Oh, there you are, sir. Now look here, I'm going to mast-head you. Got your glass?" "Yes, sir." "Then up with you, right to the main-topgallant cross-trees. Notice everything you can." My heart began to beat before I reached the main shrouds, and it beat more heavily as I toiled up the rattlins, reached the top, and then went on again, too much excited to think of there being any danger of falling, my mind being partly occupied with thoughts of what Barkins and Smith were saying about my being favoured in this way. "Just as if they could have come up," I said half-laughing; "one with a game leg, the other with a game arm." My thoughts ran, too, as much upon what I was about to see, so that beyond taking a tight hold, and keeping my spyglass buttoned up in my jacket, I paid little heed to the height I was getting, I reached the head of the topmast, and then began to mount the rattlins of the main-topgallant mast, whose cross-trees seemed to be a tremendous height above my head. But I was soon there, and settled myself as comfortably as I could, sitting with an arm well round a stay, and one leg twisted in another for safety; but the wood did not feel at all soft, and there was a peculiar rap, rap, rap against the tapering spar which ran up above my head to the round big wooden bun on the top of all, which we knew as the truck. For a moment or two I couldn't make out what the sound was. Then I saw it was caused by the halyards, the thin line which ran up through the truck and down again to the deck, for hoisting our colours. This doubled line, swayed by the breeze, was beating against the tall pole, but I checked the noise by putting my arm round it and holding the thin halyard tight. I looked down for a moment or two at the deck which lay beneath, giving me a bird's-eye view through the rigging of the white decks dotted with officers and men, and the guns glistening in the sunshine. There were several faces staring up at me, and I made out Barkins and Smith, and waved my hand. But these were only momentary glances; I had too much to see of far more importance. For there, spread out round me, was a grand view of the low, flat, marshy country, through which the river wound like a silver snake. Far away in the distance I could see villages, and what seemed to be a tower of some size. Beyond it, cultivated land and patches of forest; behind me, and to right and left, the shimmering sea, and straight in front the two junks; while almost at my feet, in spite of their hard rowing, there were our four boats, with the oars dipping with glorious regularity, and making the water flash and glitter, but not so brightly as did the bayonets of the few marines in each, as they sat in the stern-sheets with their rifles upright between their legs, and the keen triangular blades at the tops of the barrels twinkling at every movement of the boats. It was a sight to make any one's heart throb, and in spite of my splendid position for seeing everything I could not help wishing I was there to help make a part of the picture I saw, with the men in their white ducks and straw hats, the marines glowing like so many patches of poppies, and the officers with their dark blue coats faintly showing a lace or two of gold. How I longed to be with them bound upon such an exciting trip, and all the time how glad I was to be up there in so commanding a position, as, after watching the progress of the boats for a few moments, I opened and focussed my glass, rested it against a rope, and fixed it upon the junks. The first thing I noticed was that one of them lay a little over to port, as if from being too heavily laden on one side; while, as I gazed, the other was evidently settling in the other direction. I wondered what they were doing to them, and whether it meant changing heavy guns over to one side, when I grasped the fact,--they had gone as high up-stream as they could, and then run aground, and were fixed in the sticky mud of which the bottom of the river was composed. "Ahoy! there aloft," shouted Mr Reardon. "What do you make out?" I did not take the glass from my eye, but shouted down to him-- "Both junks fast aground, sir. Chinese crews running backwards and forwards, trying to work them off, sir." An eager conversation ensued between Mr Reardon and the captain, during which I carefully scanned the two Chinese vessels, and could see the men swarming here and there, as if in an intense state of agitation, but they soon ceased trying to rock the junks, and, as I judged, they were waiting for the tide to rise higher and float them off. There was nothing between to hinder my having a thoroughly good view of where they lay, just round a slight bend, but I felt certain that they could not see our boats, and I had proof that this was the case, on noticing that a group of men had landed, and were running towards a clump of tall trees, where they disappeared amongst the growth. "Cowards!" I said to myself, for I felt that they were deserters, and, after watching for their reappearance, I was about to turn the glass upon the junks again, when I noticed a peculiar agitation of the branches of one tree, which stood up far above the others. "Well, Mr Herrick, I am waiting for your reports," cried the first lieutenant. "Yes, sir," I shouted. "Half-a-dozen men landed from one of the junks, and ran across to a patch of wood." "Deserters? Any more leaving the ship?" "No, sir." "Ah, they saw the boats coming, I suppose?" "No, sir, but they soon will. One of them is climbing a big tree, much higher than the junk's masts." "For a look-out, eh?" "Yes, sir, I think so," I shouted; and then to myself, "Oh, bother! It's hard work talking from up here. There he is, sir, right up at the top. You could see him from the deck." "No, I can see nothing from here. Well, what is he doing?" "Making signals with his hands, sir, and now he's coming down again." "Then you think he has seen the boats?" "No, sir; they are following one another close in under the bank." "Then they can't see them," cried Mr Reardon, "and Mr Brooke will take them by surprise." He did not shout this, but said it to the captain. Still the words rose to where I sat watching, till the Chinamen ran out from among the bushes at the foot of the trees, and I saw them making for the junks again. I could not see them climb on board, but I felt that they must have jumped into a boat and rowed off to their friends, and, fixing my glass upon the deck of first one and then the other, I began to make out more and more clearly the actions of the crews, and, judging from the glittering, I saw some kind of arms were being distributed. I announced this at first as a supposition, telling Mr Reardon what I thought it was. "Yes, very likely," he replied; and a few minutes after I saw something else, and hailed. "Yes," he said, "what now?" and I saw that, though he did not speak, the captain was listening attentively. "They're burning something, sir." "Confound them! Not setting fire to the junks?" "I don't know, sir; I think so," I replied, still watching intently; and, as I gazed through my glass, I saw black smoke rising in little coils from both junks, at first very thick and spreading, then growing smaller. "I think, sir, they've set fire to the junks in several places," I said. He asked me why, and I told him. "Watch attentively for a few minutes." I did so, and felt puzzled, for it seemed so strange that the fire should grow smaller. "Well," he said, "are the junks burning?" "The little curls of smoke are rising still, sir." "Have the men left the decks?" "Oh no, sir! They're running here and there, and seem very busy still." "Then they have not set fire to the vessels," he cried decisively. "Pirates, without a doubt. Those are stink-pots that they have been getting ready. Go on watching, and report anything else." A noise below, familiar enough, with its rattle and splash, told me that an anchor had been dropped from the bows; and as the _Teaser_ slowly swung round from the force of the tide, I also had to turn, so as to keep the telescope fixed upon the enemy, who were as busy as ever, though what they were doing I could not make out. The flashes of light came more frequently, though, as the sun played upon their weapons; and now I had something else to report--that they had both assumed a different position, being lifted by the tide and floated upon an even keel. My first idea was, that now they would sail on beyond our reach; in fact, one moved a good deal, but the other stopped in its place, so that at last they were so close together that they seemed to touch. "Make out the boats?" came from the deck. "No, sir; they're close under the bank." Yes, I caught a glimpse of the marines' bayonets just then. "How far are they away from the junks, do you think?" "I can't tell, sir; about a quarter of a mile, I think." Mr Reardon was silent while I gazed intently at a patch of open water just beyond a curve of the bank, hoping to see the boats there, though I felt that as soon as they reached that spot, if the enemy had not seen them before, they would be certain to then, for beyond that the junks lay clearly to be seen from where I sat. "Well? See the boats?" came from the deck. "No, sir, not yet." I glanced down to answer, and could see that every one who possessed a glass was gazing anxiously aft, the only face directed up to me being the first lieutenant's. Then my eye was at the glass again. "More smoke from the junks, sir," I cried; but there was no sign of fire, and I felt that Mr Reardon must be right, for if they had set a light to the inflammable wood of the vessels, they would have blazed up directly. "Can't you see the boats yet?" cried the first lieutenant impatiently, and his voice sounded as if he were blaming me. "No, sir, but the junks are more out in the middle of the stream. I can see them quite clearly now, away from the trees. They are crowded with men, and--" "The boats--the boats?" "No, sir;--yes, hurrah! There they go, sir, all abreast, straight for the junks." "Ha!" came in one long heavy breath from below, as if all left on board had suddenly given vent to their pent-up feelings. "How far are they away from the junks?" cried Mr Reardon. "About two hundred yards, sir; you'll see them directly." "Yes, I see them now, sir," cried Barkins, who was a little way up the mizzen-shrouds, where I had not seen him before. "Silence!" cried the captain sternly. "Go on, Mr Herrick; report." "Smoke from the junks, sir--white," I cried, and the words were hardly out of my mouth when there came the report of guns--first one and then another; then two together; and I fancied that I could see the water splashing up round about the boats, but I could not be sure. "Boats separating," I shouted. "Go on." "Pulling hard for the junks." "Yes, go on; report everything." I needed no orders, for I was only too eager to tell everything I saw. "Two boats have gone to the right; two to the left.--More firing from the junks.--Boats separating more.--Two going round behind.--Both out of sight." By this time, in addition to the sharp reports of the small guns on board the junks, the sharper crackle of matchlocks and muskets had begun; but so far I had not seen a puff of smoke from our boats. "Are our men firing?" "No, sir; the two boats I can see are pulling straight now for the junks.--Now the water splashes all about them." "Yes? Hit?" "Don't think so, sir.--Now.--Ah!" "What--what is it, boy?" "Can't see anything, sir; they've rowed right into the smoke." My hands which held the telescope were quite wet now with the excitement of the scene I had tried to describe to my superior officer, and I thrust the glass under my left arm, and rubbed them quickly on my handkerchief, as I gazed at the distant smoke, and listened to the crackle of musketry alone, for the guns had now ceased from fire. This I felt must be on account of the boats coming to closer quarters, and then to the men boarding. But I could see nothing but the smoke, and I raised the glass to my eye again. Still nothing but smoke. I fancied, though, that the firing was different--quicker and sharper--as if our men must have begun too. "Well, Mr Herrick?" now came from below. "Surely you can see how the fight is going on?" "No, sir, nothing but smoke,--Yes," I cried excitedly, "it's lifting now, and floating away to the left. I can see close up to the junks. Yes; now the decks. Our right boat is empty, and there is a great fight going on upon the junk." "And the other?" "There are two boats close up, and our men are firing. There is black smoke coming out of one boat. Now the men are climbing up, and--now, the smoke is too thick there." "Go on, boy; go on," shouted the first lieutenant, stamping about, while the captain stood perfectly still, gazing at the rising smoke, from the bridge. "They seem to be fighting very hard, sir," I said, trembling now like a leaf. "I can see quite a crowd, and that some of the people are in white." "But who is getting the best of it?" "I can't see, sir," I said sadly. "Then for goodness' sake come down, and let some one else come up," roared Mr Reardon. "Yes, sir." "No, no; stay where you are, boy. But use your glass--use your glass." I tried my best, but I could only make out a blurred mass of men on board both junks. They seemed to be swaying to and fro, and the smoke, instead of passing off, once more grew thicker, and in place of being white and steamy, it now looked to be of a dirty inky black, completely enveloping the vessels and our boats. This I reported. "They surely cannot have set them on fire?" said Mr Reardon. "I can't see any flames, sir." Silence again; and we found that the firing had ceased, all but a sharp crack from time to time, sounds evidently made by rifles. But there was nothing more to see, and, in spite of the angry appeals of the lieutenant, I could report no more than that the black smoke was growing thicker, and hanging down over the water, hiding everything, to the bushes and trees upon the bank. And now, as I gave one glance down, I saw that the captain was walking to and fro upon the bridge, evidently in a great state of excitement, for there was not a sound now; the firing had quite ceased; the black cloud seemed to have swallowed up our four boats and men; and a chilly feeling of despair began to attack me, as I wondered whether it was possible that our poor fellows had been beaten, and the boats burned by the stink-pots the pirates had thrown in. The thought was almost too horrible to bear, and I stared hard through the glass again, trying to make out the junks beyond the smoke, and whether it was really our boats which where burning, and raising the black cloud which hid all view. "I can see a boat now, sir," I cried excitedly, as one of them seemed to glide out of the end of the cloud; but my heart sank as I made the announcement, for I saw only that which confirmed my fears. "Well, go on, lad," cried Mr Reardon, stamping with impatience, "what are they doing in her?" "She's empty, sir, and floating away, with a cloud of black smoke rising from her." "Ah!" he exclaimed, with quite a savage snarl, and I saw the captain stop short and raise his glass again, though I knew that from where he stood he could see nothing. "We're beaten," I said to myself. "Oh, our poor lads--our poor lads!" A mist rose before my eyes, and I nearly dropped the glass, but I passed my hand across my face and looked again, sweeping the telescope from the left side, where the boat was gliding up-stream smoking more than ever, to the right and the shore. "Hooray!" I yelled. "Yes! what?" roared the captain and Mr Reardon together. "Chinese running in a regular stream away from the shore; making for the woods. One down--another down." At the same moment almost came a couple of volleys, then several men went down, and the crackle of firing commenced again. "Go on, Herrick!" cried Mr Reardon. "Our fellows ashore, and running Jacks and jollies together, sir. Stopping to fire. Running again." "And the enemy?" "Running like deer, sir. More of them down. Making for the wood." "One man stopped, sir, and returning." "Yes, yes, that's good. What now?" "Boat out from the smoke, rowing after the other one, sir. They've got it. Yes, I can see. They're throwing something out that smokes--now something more." "Bah! stink-pots!" roared Mr Reardon. "Now then, quick!--quick! Don't, go to sleep, sir. What next?" "I'll shy the spyglass at you directly," I muttered; and then aloud, "Fire, sir; both junks blazing." "Hurrah!" came from the deck as the rest of the crew set up a tremendous cheer, for the smoke had suddenly grown less dense; and the junks gradually grew visible as it floated away; while even in the bright sunlight the flames were visible, and I could now make out that they were two floating furnaces with the great tongues of fire licking the broad matting-sails: and, best news of all, there, quite plainly, were our four boats, with the men just visible above their sides. I reported this, and cheer after cheer rose again. After which there was dead silence once more, so that my reports could be heard. "Now, Mr Herrick, what now?" cried Mr Reardon. "Two boats lying in mid-stream, sir; the others are rowing to the side." "To pick up the men who were sent ashore, I suppose. Good." "Junks burning very fast, sir; and they're floating across to the other side. The wind's taking them straight, for the smoke floats that way." "Very likely," said Mr Reardon; and there was a long pause. "One junk has taken the ground, sir," I said, "and--" "Yes, well, what?" "Her masts and sails have fallen over the side." "And our boats?" "Lying-to, sir, doing nothing." But that was as far as I could see, for they were doing a good deal, as we afterwards heard. "Other junk has floated over, sir, nearly to the same place." "Good; burning still?" "Oh yes, sir--very fast." He need not have asked; for, as Barkins told me afterwards, they could see the flames from the deck, though our boats were invisible. "Well, what now?" cried Mr Reardon, as I saw the captain quietly pacing to and fro on the bridge. "Other two boats pushed off from the shore, sir." "Ha! that's right. See anything of the Chinamen?" "No, sir; the forest goes right away for miles. There isn't one to be seen." "And the boats?" "All rowing back, sir, close under the left bank." "Can you see them?" "Only three of them, sir," I replied. "Now another is out of sight." "Then, as soon as they are all invisible, you can come down," cried Mr Reardon. "Yes, sir; all out of sight now." "Then come down." "Thankye for nothing," I muttered; and then aloud, "Yes, sir;" and I closed my glass, and wiped my wet forehead, feeling stiff and sore, as if I had been exerting myself with all my might. "I suppose I'm very stupid," I said to myself, as I began to descend slowly, "but I did try my best. What a height it seems up here! If a fellow slipped and fell, he would never have another hour up at the mast-head." I went on downward, with my legs feeling more and more stiff, and a sense of heavy weariness growing upon me. My head ached too, and I felt a pain at the back of my neck, while mentally I was as miserable and dissatisfied as ever I remember being in my life. "I hope he'll send old Barkins up next time," I thought. "He wouldn't feel so precious jealous then. Nice job, squinting through that glass till one's almost blind, and nothing but bullying for the result." It seemed to be a very long way down to the deck, but I reached the remaining few rattlins at last, and I was nearly down to the bulwarks, meaning to go below and bathe my head, if I could leave the deck, when I was stopped short, just in my most gloomy and despondent moments, by the captain's voice, his words sounding so strange that I could hardly believe my ears. For, as I held on to the shrouds, and looked sharply aft at the mention of my name, he said-- "Thank you, Mr Herrick; very good indeed;" while, as I reached the deck, Mr Reardon came up-- "Yes, capital, Mr Herrick. A very arduous task, and you have done it well." CHAPTER TWENTY. AFTER THE FIGHT. "Bravo, Gnat! Well done, little 'un!" whispered Barkins the next minute, as I walked aft, feeling quite confused, while my headache and sensation of misery passed off as if by magic. "Blacksmith would have done it better, of course; wouldn't you, Smithy?" "Done it as well as you would," said my messmate sulkily; and there was a heavy frown on his brow; but, as he met my eyes, it cleared off, and he smiled frankly. "I say: Well done our side!" he whispered. "What would they do without midshipmen!" "I say, though," said Barkins, "we've given John Pirate another dressing-down; but what about the plunder?" "Ah, of course," said Smith. "Junks both burned, and no swag. What about our prize-money? Eh, Gnat?" "I wasn't thinking about that, but about our poor lads. They must have had a sharp fight. I hope no one is hurt." My companion were silent for a moment or two. Then Barkins said quietly-- "I thought it would be only the teapots that were broken. Think our chaps were hurt? You couldn't see?" "I could see that there was a big fight going on; and look here!" I nodded in the direction of one of the companion-ways, from which the doctor suddenly appeared with his glasses on, and an eager, expectant look in his eyes as he bustled up to us. "I'm all ready," he said. "Boats in sight yet?" I shuddered, and I noticed that Smith looked white. "Well, why don't you answer? What's the matter, my lads? Oh, I see." He laughed. "Horrible sort of person the doctor, eh? But you didn't look like that when I tackled your wounds the other day. But if you people will fight, the surgeon must be ready. Oh, let's see: you were up at the cross-trees, Mr Herrick, with your glass, and saw all. Will there be much work for me to do?" "I don't know, sir," I said, trying hard to speak quietly. "I couldn't see much for the smoke. I hope not." "So do I, boy, heartily. I don't mind the wounds so long as they're not too bad. It's painful to have fine strong lads like ours slip through one's fingers. But we must do our best. Any Chinese prisoners? Sure to be, I suppose." "I should think so, sir." "And wounded. Well, if there are, you three lads ought to come and be my body-guard with your dirks. Like to see the operations, I daresay?" "Ugh!" I said, with a shudder. "Bah! Don't act like a great girl, Herrick," said the doctor scornfully. "You would never have done for a doctor, sir. I never shudder at the worst cases." "But then you are hardened, sir," said Barkins. "Hardened be hanged, sir!" cried the doctor indignantly. "A clever surgeon gets more and more softened every time he operates, more delicate in his touches, more exact in his efforts to save a limb, or arrange an injury so that it will heal quickly. Hardened, indeed! Why, to judge from your faces, any one would think surgery was horrible, instead of one of the greatest pleasures in life." "What, cutting and bandaging wounds, and fishing for bullets?" blurted out Smith; "why, sir, I think it's hideous." "And I think you are an impertinent young coxcomb, sir," cried the doctor indignantly. "Hideous, indeed! Why it's grand." He looked round at us as if seeking for confirmation of his words, but neither spoke. "Hideous? horrible?" he said, taking off his glasses and thrusting his hand into his pocket for his handkerchief to wipe them, but bringing out something soft and white, which proved to be a piece of lint. "Oh, I do call it cool. If there's anything hideous it's your acts, sir; having those thundering guns fired, to send huge shells shivering and shattering human beings to pieces for the doctor to try and mend; your horrible chops given with cutlasses and the gilt-handled swords you are all so proud of wearing--insolent, bragging, showy tools that are not to be compared with my neat set of amputating knives in their mahogany case. These are to do good, while yours are to do evil. Then, too, your nasty, insidious, cruel bayonets, which make a worse wound than a bullet. Oh, it's too fine to call my work horrible, when I try to put straight all your mischief." "Here they are," cried Barkins excitedly, as a hail came from the top. We ran aft to see the first boat come steadily along close in shore, which was being hugged so as to avoid the full rush of the tide. Directly after the others came in sight, and glasses were all in use from the bridge and quarter-deck. I adjusted mine directly, and saw at the first glance that there was plenty of work for Dr Price, for men were lying in the stern-sheets with rough bandages on limbs and heads, while several of those who were rowing had handkerchiefs tied round their foreheads, and others had horrible marks upon their white duck-frocks, which told tales of injury to them as well as to their enemies. The third boat was given up to men lying down or sitting up together, leaving only just room for the rowers, while the fourth and largest boat was being towed; the thwarts, that in an ordinary way would have been occupied by rowers, now holding the marines, who sat with their rifles ready, and fixed bayonets, while the stern-sheets were filled with Chinamen, seated in three groups, and all in the most uncomfortable-looking way. I could see that their hands were tied behind their backs, and it was horribly plain that several of them were wounded; but why they should have formed these three groups, and sat there with their heads laid close together, was what puzzled me. A loud cheer rose from our deck as the boats came near; and this was taken up directly by the returning party, the men rowing harder as they shouted, and the little triumphant procession reached the side. The first hail came from the captain. "Mr Brooke--where's Mr Brooke?" "Here, sir," cried that officer, standing up with a stained handkerchief about his head, and his uniform all black and scorched. "Any fatalities?" "No, sir; not one." I saw the captain's lips move, but no one heard him speak. I guessed, though, what he said, and I felt it. Then as quickly as possible the boats were run up to the davits, and the uninjured men leaped on deck. Next the wounded, such as could stir, descended from the boats, one poor fellow staggering and nearly falling as soon as he reached the deck. After which the badly wounded were carefully lifted out and carried below, to be laid in a row to wait the doctor and his assistant make their first rapid examination, to apply tourniquets and bandaged pads to the most serious injuries. "Good heavens, Mr Brooke, what a condition you are in! The doctor must take you first." "Oh no, sir," said the young lieutenant quietly. "I'm not very bad; a cut from a heavy sword through my cap. It has stopped bleeding. My hands are a little bruised." "But how was this?" "As we advanced to board, they threw quite a volley of stink-pots fizzing away into us. I burned myself a little with them." "Chucking 'em overboard, sir," cried the boatswain. "Splendid it was." "Nonsense!" cried Mr Brooke. "You threw ever so many. But it was hot work, sir." "Hot! it is horrible. How many prisoners have you there?" "Eighteen, sir; the survivors escaped." "But you shouldn't have fired the junks, man," said the captain testily. "There may have been wounded on board." "Yes, sir," said Mr Brooke, with his brow puckering; "wounded and dead there were, I daresay, thirty; but the enemy set fire to their vessels themselves before they leaped overboard, and it was impossible to save them: they burned like resin. We saved all we could." "I beg your pardon; I might have known," cried the captain warmly. "Come to my cabin. Mr Reardon, be careful with those prisoners; they are savage brutes." "Enough to make 'em, Gnat. Look! What a shame!" I looked, but I could not see any reason for Smith's remark. "Beg pardon, sir," growled one of the men, who had a bandage round his arm; "you wouldn't ha' said so if you'd been there. They was all alike. The junk we took was burning like fat in a frying-pan, and me and my mate see one o' them chaps going to be roasted, and made a run for it and hauled him away--singed my beard, it did; look, sir." Half of his beard was burned off, and his cheek scorched. "Then my mate gets hold of his legs, and I was stooping to get my fists under his chest, when he whips his knife into my arm 'fore I knowed what he was up to. But we saved him all the same." "Here," cried Mr Reardon, as the marines descended from the third boat, and stood at attention in two parties facing each other; "who was answerable for this? Why, it is an outrage. Brutal!" "S'pose it was my doing, sir," said the boatswain, touching his cap; "but I asked leave of Mr Brooke first, and he said yes." "What, to tie the poor wretches up like that, sir, and half of them wounded!" "Beg pardon, sir; there was no other way handy. We lashed their arms behind 'em to keep 'em from knifing us, and then they kept on jumping overboard, and trying to drown themselves. We haven't hurt them." "Cast them loose at once." "Yes, sir; I should like half-a-dozen strong chaps in the boat, though." "Well, take them," said Mr Reardon, who was speaking less severely now. "I'll have the uninjured men in irons this time. Be careful." "And if I'd my way, I'd have 'em all in iron boxes, 'cept their hands." The boatswain said this to me, with a nod, as the first lieutenant turned away, and, unable to control my curiosity, I sprang up on the bulwark to look into the boat. "Let's have a look too," cried Smith, and he jumped up to gain a position much closer than mine, but quitted his hold and dropped back on deck, lost his footing, and came down sitting; for, as he leaned over the boat's gunnel, one of the prisoners made a sudden snap at him, after the fashion of an angry dog, and the marines burst into a roar of laughter. Smith got up scowling and indignant. "My hands slipped," he said to me aloud. And then, to carry off his confusion, "How many are there, Herrick?" "Three lots of six," I said, as I now saw plainly enough how it was that the prisoners were in such a strange position. For they had been dragged together and their pigtails lashed into a tight knot, a process admirably suited to the object in hand--to render them perfectly helpless; and their aspect certainly did not excite my anger. Meanwhile the boatswain had stepped into the swinging boat, and he turned to me, but looked at Smith as he spoke. "Like to try whether either of the others will bite, Mr Herrick?" he said. Smith coloured and frowned. "No, thank you," I replied; "I'm satisfied." "Now then, you two," said the boatswain, "stand by with your bayonets; and you, my lads, be ready as we cast them loose. Get a good grip of each fellow by the tail; he'll be helpless then." I stood looking on at the curious scene, and the next minute was conscious of the fact that the first lieutenant had returned to supervise the putting of the prisoners in irons himself; and, as the tails were unlashed, he took note of the men who were injured, and had them lifted out and laid on deck. The others made no attempt to escape, for they were too firmly held; but, as the armourer fitted on the irons, I could see their wild-beast-like eyes rolling in different directions, and then become fixed with a look of savage hate on our men, who were certainly none too tender with a set of wretches who only waited an opportunity to destroy life without the slightest compunction. At last they were all lying on the deck--nine with serious wounds, the other half for the most part injured, but only to a very slight extent, and these were soon after taken one by one between a file of marines to the place in the hold appointed once more for their prison. Then the doctor came up for ten minutes, and, after a few words with the sergeant of marines, examined the nine prisoners, passing over six to the sergeant with orders, and having three laid aside for his own ministrations. We three lads stood watching the sergeant, who had evidently had some practice in ambulance work, and skilfully enough he set to work sponging and bandaging injuries. But all the time a couple of marines stood, one on either side, ready to hold the prisoners down, for each seemed to look upon the dressing of his wounds as a form of torture which he was bound to resist with all his might. "Nice boys, Mr Herrick," said the boatswain drily. "Do you know why we are taking all this pains?" "To save their lives and give them up to the authorities at Tsin-Tsin, I suppose." "Yes, sir." "For them to be put on their trial for piracy on the high seas." "Yes, sir, that's it; but it would be a greater kindness to let the wretches die out of their misery." "But some of them mayn't be guilty," I said. The boatswain laughed. "I don't think there's much doubt about that, sir," he said. Just then, as the last man was treated by the sergeant, the doctor came on deck with his assistants, both in white aprons and sleeves--well, I'm a little incorrect there--in aprons and sleeves that had been white. "I've no business here," said the doctor hurriedly; "but these men cannot be left. Keep an eye on them, my men, and don't let them do me any mischief. I can't be spared just now." The next moment he was down on his knees by the side of one of the prisoners, who, in his eyes for a few minutes, was neither enemy nor piratical Chinaman, but a patient to whom he devoted himself to the full extent of his skill, performing what was needful, and leaving his assistant to finish the bandaging while he went on to the next. In another ten minutes he had finished, and rose from his knees. "There, Mr Herrick," he said; "do you call that horrible? because I call it grand. If those three ill-looking scoundrels had been left another hour they would have died. Now, with their hardy constitutions, they will rapidly get well, perhaps escape and begin pirating again. Possibly, when we give them up--oh my knees! how hard that deck is!--the authorities will--" "Chop off all head. Velly bad men--velly bad men indeed." The doctor laughed, and hurried away while the last prisoner was carried down below. "There," said the boatswain, when all was over, "that job's done, Mr Herrick. Nice fellows your countrymen, Ching." "Not allee nice fellow," replied Ching seriously. "Pilate velly bad man. No use. Why captain save him up?" "Ah, that's a question you had better ask him. But I say, Ching, those fellows came up here with cargo, didn't they?" "Calgo?" said Ching. "Yes; plunder out of the ships they took." "Yes," said Ching. "Then where is it? There was none on board the junks." "Ching know," said the interpreter, laying his finger to the side of his nose. "You likee Ching show?" "Yes, of course. Prize-money, and you'd share." "Ching likee plize-money. You bling ship along, and Ching show." CHAPTER TWENTY ONE. IN THE CREEK. Ching's announcement cleared up what had been somewhat of a mystery. It had appeared strange to everybody that the junks had been up this river apparently for no purpose, and more strange that they should have been light, and not laden with the plunder of the vessels they had taken. And now, as without any need for taking soundings the _Teaser_ slowly steamed back, Ching pointed out a kind of landing-place in a little creek hidden amongst dense growth, so that it had been passed unnoticed on our way up. The country here on both sides of the river was wild, and no trace of a dwelling could be seen; but about half a mile from the shore there was a low ridge, round one end of which the creek wound, and toward this ridge Ching pointed, screwing his eyes up into narrow slits, and wrinkling up his face in all directions. "Velly bad man live along-along there. Plenty plize-money; plenty tea, lice, silk; plenty evelyting. Come and see." The _Teaser_ was moored, and a couple of boats manned with well-armed crews, Ching looking on the while and cunningly shaking his head. "No wantee big piecee sword gun. Pilate all lun away and hide." "Never mind," said Mr Reardon, who was going in command of the expedition; "we may find somebody there disposed to fight." "Takee all along big empty boat; cally tea, silk, lice, plize-money?" "Better see first," said the captain; "there may not be anything worth carriage. Go with them," he said to Ching. "They may want an interpleter." "Yes, Ching interpleter. Talk velly nice Inglis." "You can come if you like in my boat, Mr Herrick," said the lieutenant; and I jumped at the opportunity, but before I reached the side I turned, and saw Barkins and Smith looking gloomily on. "Well, what are you waiting for?" said Mr Reardon. "Beg pardon, sir," I said; "I was only thinking that Mr Barkins and Mr Smith would be very glad to go ashore." "Of course they would, but I suppose you don't want to give up your place to them?" "No, sir," I said; "but I will." "Oh, very well. Here, Mr Barkins, Mr Smith; do you feel well enough to go in my boat?" "Yes, sir," they cried together eagerly. "Jump in, then." "Thank you, sir," cried Smith, and he mounted into the first boat; but Barkins hesitated a moment. "Thank you, old chap," he whispered, "but I don't like to go." "Off with you," I said, and I hurried him forward. "Shall I give you a leg up?" I added, for he limped a good deal still. "No, no; I don't want to let them see I'm lame. But I say, Gnat, you go." "Be off," I whispered. "Quick!" and I helped him in. "Here, Ching, you had better go in the second boat," said Mr Reardon sharply; and, as the Chinaman rolled out of the first boat, blinking and smiling, orders were given to lower away, and the first boat kissed the water. I was looking down at my two messmates, feeling a little disappointed, but glad that they had a chance at last, when Mr Reardon looked up. "Here, Mr Herrick," he cried. "You had better come on in the other boat, and take charge of the interpreter. Look sharp." I did look sharp, and a few minutes later I was sitting in the stern-sheets, being rowed ashore. "Plenty loom in littlee liver," said Ching, pointing to the creek. "Pilate take allee plize-money in sampan up littlee liver." "Ching thinks the boats could go up the creek, sir, and that the pirates go that way." "Try, then; go first, Mr Grey," cried the first lieutenant; and, ordering his boat's crew to lie on their oars, he waited till we had passed, and then followed. "Ching going showee way," whispered the Chinaman to me. "But how do you know there is a place up there?" I said. "Have you ever been?" Ching shook his head till his black tail quivered, and closed his eyes in a tight smile. "Ching interpleter," he said, with a cunning look. "Ching know evelyting 'bout Chinaman. Talkee Chinee--talkee Inglis--velly nicee." "But talking English velly nicee doesn't make you understand about the pirates." "Yes; know velly much allee 'bout pilate," he said. "Velly bad men-- velly stupid, allee same. Pilate get big junk, swordee, gun, plenty powder; go killee evelybody, and hide tea, silk, lice up liver. One pilate--twenty pilate--allee do same. Hide up liver." "Perhaps he's right," said Mr Grey, who sat back with the tiller in his hand, listening. "They do imitate one another. What one gang does, another does. They're stupid enough to have no fresh plans of their own." By this time we were in the creek, which was just wide enough for the men to dip their oars from time to time, and the tide being still running up we glided along between the muddy banks and under the overhanging trees, which were thick enough to shade as from the hot sun. The ride was very interesting, and made me long to get ashore and watch the birds and butterflies, and collect the novel kinds of flowers blooming here and there in the more open parts, the lilies close in to the side being beautiful. But we had sterner business on hand, besides having the first lieutenant in the following boat, so I contented myself with looking straight ahead as far as I could for the maze-like wanderings of the creek, and I was just thinking how easily we could run into an ambuscade, and be shot at from the dense shrubby growth on the bank, when Mr Reardon called to us from his boat. "Let your marines be ready, Mr Grey," he said, "in case of a trap. If the enemy shows and attacks, on shore at once and charge them. Don't wait to give more than one volley." "Ay, ay, sir," said the boatswain; and the marines seized their pieces, and I looked forward more sharply than ever. But Ching shook his head. "No pilate," he whispered to me. "Allee too velly much flighten, and lun away from foleign devil sailor and maline." "But they might have come down to their place here," I said. Ching smiled contemptuously. "Pilate velly blave man, fight gleat deal when allee one side, and know sailor can't fightee. When plenty sailor can fightee, pilate lun away velly fast, and no come back." "Can you understand him, Mr Grey?" I said. "Oh yes, I understand him, and I daresay he's right, but there's no harm in being on the look-out;" and, to show his intention of following out his words, the boatswain took his revolver from its case, and laid it ready upon his knees. "How much farther is this village, or whatever it is?" said Mr Reardon from behind. "Do you hear, Ching?" I said. "Ching hear; Ching don'tee know; not velly far," was the unsatisfactory reply. "I'm afraid we've come on a cock-and-bull hunt," said the boatswain, looking to right and left as he stood up in the boat, for the creek now grew so narrow that the men had to lay in their oars, and the coxswain also stood up and drew the boat onward by hooking the overhanging boughs. "Do you think they do come up here, Ching?" I said. He nodded, and looked sharply about him. "There can be no big traffic up here, Mr Grey," said the lieutenant. "What does the interpreter say?" "Do you hear, Ching?" I whispered; "what do you say?" "Allee light," he replied. "Pilate come along in littlee sampan; cally silk, tea, lice." "Oh, bother!" I said. Then aloud to Mr Reardon, whose boat was half hidden by the growth overhead, "He seems quite sure they do come up here, sir." "Well, then, go a little farther, but I feel far from sure. Push right in at the next place where there's room for the boat, and climb up the bank." "Yes, sir," I cried; and we went on again for another hundred yards, when all at once I caught sight of an opening where I could land, and pointed it out to Mr Grey. "Yes," said Ching, "allee light. That place where pilate land allee plize-money." I laughed, and Mr Grey told the coxswain to draw the boat close to the bank, when, to my intense surprise, I found there was a broadly-trampled path, beaten into soft steps, and I turned in my glee and shouted-- "Here's the place, sir." The boat glided rustling in; two men sprang out, and then we followed. The second boat came alongside, and five minutes later our sturdy little force was tramping along through a dense patch of wood by a well-beaten path, and in about ten minutes more were out at the foot of a low ridge which hid the river from our sight, and in face of a couple of dozen or so low bamboo huts, two of which were of pretty good size. "Steady! halt! form up!" cried the lieutenant, and skirmishers were sent forward to feel our way, for no one was visible; but open doors and windows, suggested the possibility of danger in ambush. A few minutes settled all doubts on that score, and the word to advance was given. We went up to the front of the huts at the double, and examination proved that the places must have been occupied within a few hours, for the fire in one hut was still smouldering; but the people had fled, and we were in possession of the tiny village so cunningly hidden from the river. Our men were pretty quick, but Ching surpassed them. "Look at him running!" cried Barkins, as, with his tail flying, Ching ran from hut to hut, and finally stopped before the two more pretentious places, which were closely shut. "Hong--warehouse," he cried to me, and an attempt was made to enter, but the doors of both were quite fast. "Steady!" said Mr Reardon; "there may be some of the enemy inside;" and our men were so placed that when the door was burst in, any fire which we drew would prove harmless. One of the sailors came forward then with a heavy flat stone, which looked as if it had been used to crush some kind of grain upon it, and, receiving a nod from the lieutenant, he raised it above his head, dashed it against the fastening, and the door flew open with a crash, while the sailor darted aside. But no shot issued from within, and Mr Reardon stepped forward, looked in, and uttered an ejaculation. "Look here, Grey," he cried; and the boatswain stepped to his side. Then my turn came, and there was no doubt about Ching's idea being correct, for the place was literally packed with stores. Chests, bales, boxes, and packages of all kinds were piled-up on one side; bags, evidently of rice, on the other; while at the end were articles of all kinds, and crates which seemed to be full of china. "Sentry here," said the lieutenant sternly; and, leaving a marine on guard, he led the way to the other store, whose door was burst in, and upon our entering, without hesitation now, this place proved to be choked with the cargo of different junks which the pirates had rifled, for everything of value had been packed in tightly, and the pirates' treasure-houses were no doubt waiting for some favourable opportunity for disposing of the loot. "Sentry here," cried Mr Reardon again; and the man having been planted, we stood together in one of the huts, while the lieutenant made his plans. "You wantee big empty boat?" said Ching suddenly. "Yes, my man, and I wish we had brought one." Then, after a few minutes' consideration, Mr Reardon decided what to do. "Now, Mr Herrick," he said, "take a marine and one man with the signal flags, and go up to the ridge yonder. Place your marine where he can command the plain, and he will fire if he sees the enemy approaching. The man is to signal for two more boats." I started for the ridge after getting my two men, which was about two hundred yards away, the ground rising in a slope; and, as we went off at the double, I heard orders being given, while, by the time we were up on the top, I looked back to see our men going in a regular stream down to the boats, laden with bales of silk, the white frocks of the Jacks showing through the thick growth from time to time. My sentry was soon posted in a position where he could command the plain for miles, and the Jack hard at work waving flags till his signal was answered from the ship, which seemed from where we stood to be lying close at hand. Then we two returned, to find that one boat was already packed as full as it would hold; and Barkins and Mr Grey went off with it back to the river, while the second was rapidly laden, and in half an hour followed the first. Then Smith and I followed the lieutenant into the store, with its low reed-thatched roof, and gazed about wonderingly at the richness of the loot upon which we had come. "I say, Gnat, we shan't go home without prize-money this voyage," whispered Smith; and then, nothing more being possible, the sentries-- four, posted at different distances--were visited, and we all sat down in the shade to rest, and partake of the refreshments in the men's haversacks. CHAPTER TWENTY TWO. FRESH DANGER. "They're a long time sending those boats, Herrick," said the lieutenant to me soon after we had finished our meal. "It's rather a long way, sir," I ventured to suggest. "Oh yes, it's a long way; but with the state of dishipline to which I have brought the _Teaser_ they ought to have been here by now. Suppose we were surrounded by the enemy, and waiting for their help to save us!" "We should think it longer than we do now, sir." Mr Reardon turned to me sharply, and looked as if in doubt whether he should treat my remark as humorous or impertinent. Fortunately he took the former view, and smiled pleasantly. "So we should, Herrick, so we should. But if they knew it was to fetch all this loot on board, they'd make a little more haste." "They know it by this time, sir," I said. "They must have met the first boat." "Oh, I don't know," he said rather sourly. "The men are very slow when I am not there." "Here they are, sir!" I cried; for the marine sentry down by the river challenged, and then there was a loud cheering, and soon after Mr Brooke appeared, followed by a long train of fully-armed Jacks. "Why, I thought when we started that we had come to fight," cried Mr Brooke as he reached us. "We met the two loaded boats. Is there much more?" "Come and look," said Mr Reardon; and we went first into one and then the other store, while our party of Jacks communicated our luck to the newcomers, the result being that, as we came out of the second long hut, the men cheered again lustily. Then no time was lost; and the way in which the crew attacked those two stores of loot was a sight to see. It was tremendously hot, but they laughed and cheered each other as those returning met the laden ones going down to the boats. They would have liked to make a race of it to see which crew could load up their boat first, but Mr Reardon stopped that; and the strength of all was put to work to load one boat and get it off, so that there were two streams of men going and coming; and the first boat was deeply laden in an incredibly short space of time, the men leaving themselves no room to row, but placing the chests amidships to form a platform, and two smaller ones in the bow and stern. They would have laden the boat more deeply still but for Mr Brooke, who superintended at the side of the creek, while Mr Reardon was at the stores. Then the first of the boats Mr Brooke had brought was sent off, and by the time the next was loaded one of those we had previously sent off returned. "Velly plime lot of plize-money," Ching said to me every time we met; and he toiled away with the rest, his face shining, and while our men grew red he grew more and more yellow. But, in spite of the tremendously hard work of carrying down those loads, the men took it all as a party of pleasure; and when, later on in the day, after boatload after boatload had gone down the creek for hours, I had to go up to Mr Reardon with a message from Mr Brooke, I was astonished to see how the contents of the stores had disappeared. It was getting close upon sundown when the last load was packed into the longboat. Silk bale, tea-chest, rice-bag, crate, and box, with an enormous amount of indescribable loot, including all kinds of weapons, had been taken aboard; and the men who had come up for fresh burdens began cheering like mad as they found the task was done. "That will do, my lads; steady--steady!" cried Mr Reardon. "Fall in." _Bang_! It was not a loud report, only that of the rifle fired by the sentry on the ridge; and immediately the men stood to their arms, and were ready for what promised to be an interruption. "See the sentry, Mr Herrick?" cried the lieutenant. "Yes, sir," I said; "he's running in fast." The next minute the man came up, breathless. "Strong body of John Chinamans, sir, coming across from over yonder." "Time we were off, then," said Mr Reardon; and, giving the word, we started away at the "double" from before the empty stores and huts, toward the creek. Our run through the wood, though, was soon brought to a walk, for we overtook the last laden men, and had to accommodate our pace to theirs. But they hurried on pretty quickly, reached the boat just as another empty one returned; the loading was finished, and as soon as the boat was ready, an addition was made to her freight in the shape of a dozen Jacks and marines, and she pushed off just as a loud yelling was heard from the direction of the empty stores. "They'll be down on us directly," muttered Mr Reardon; and we all crowded into the empty boat and pushed off after the loaded one, but had not descended the creek far before we were stopped by the loaded boat, and had to arrange our pace by hers. "Now for a slow crawl," I thought, "and they'll be after us directly." A loud bang behind us told that I was right, and the handful of rough slugs in the heavy matchlock flew spattering amongst the leaves overhead, cutting off twigs which fell into the boat. "Lie down all who can," cried the lieutenant; and we waited for the next shot, which, to be rather Irish, was half-a-dozen in a scattered volley. But though the twigs and leaves came showering down, no one was hit; and the coxswain steadily poled us along as fast as the progress of the other boat would allow. I saw that Mr Reardon was on the _qui vive_ to order a return of the fire; but so far we could not see from whence it came, and it seemed as if nothing could be done but keep steadily on with our retreat. "They might have given us another half-hour, Herrick," he said. "I should like to get the boys on board unhurt." "Think they can get on ahead, sir?" I whispered. "I hope not. The forest on each side is so dense that I don't fancy they can get along any faster than we do. Make haste, my lads, make haste," he said, almost in a whisper; "we shall have it dark here under these trees before long." Crash came another volley, accompanied by a savage yelling, but we were so low down between the muddy banks that again the slugs went pattering over our heads. "Would you mind passing the word to the other boat, messmate," said a familiar voice. "Tell 'em not to hurry themselves, as we're very comfortable." "Who's that? Silence!" cried Mr Reardon. No reply came to his question, but I could hear the men chuckling. The next minute they were serious enough, for there was a burst of voices from very near at hand. "Aim low, my lads," said Mr Reardon. "You six in the stern-sheets, as near to where the shooting is as you can." The rifles were levelled, three of the barrels being passed over our shoulders. Then came the usual orders, and the pieces went off like one. This silenced our pursuers for a few minutes, during which we continued our progress, snail-like at the best, for the boat in front looked like a slug. "I'd give the order to them to draw aside and let us pass, Herrick," whispered the lieutenant, who now, in this time of peril, grew very warm and friendly; "but--ah, that's getting dangerous." For another volley from very near at hand rattled over us, and was answered by our men. "What was I going to say?" continued the lieutenant coolly, "Oh, I remember! If we tried to get by them they might take the ground with all that load, and be stuck." "And it would be a pity to have to leave that load, sir," I said. "Velly best load--allee best silk!" cried Ching excitedly, "Good, velly good plize-money!" There was a roar of laughter at this, and Mr Reardon cried-- "Silence!" Then, sharply, "Fire, my lads, if you see any one following." "Ay, ay, sir." "Yes, it would be a pity," said the lieutenant thoughtfully; "but it's tempting. If we could get in front, Herrick, we could tow the load, and it would shelter us all from the firing." "Unless they got to be level with us, sir," I said. "And--quick! right and left, my lads. Fire!" cried the lieutenant; for there was the breaking of undergrowth close at hand on either side, and a savage yelling commenced as our pursuers forced their way through. The men, who had been like hounds held back by the leash, were only too glad to get their orders; and in an instant there was quite a blaze of fire from both sides of the boat, the bullets cutting and whistling through the thick trees and undergrowth; and the movement on the banks, with the cracking and rustling of the bushes and tufts of bamboo, stopped as if by magic. "Cease firing!" cried Mr Reardon; and then, as if to himself, "Every shot is wasted." I did not think so, for it had checked the enemy, who allowed us to go on slowly another hundred yards or so. "Allee velly dleadful," whispered Ching to me, as he crouched in the bottom of the boat. "You tinkee hit Ching?" "I hope not," I said. "Oh no; we shall get out into the river directly." "No," he said; "velly long way yet." "But who are these?" I said--"some village people?" "Pilate," he cried. "Allee come home not kill, and findee plize-money gone. Makee velly angly. Wantee chop off sailor head." "Like to catch 'em at it," growled Tom Jecks, who had been very silent for some time. "Silence there!" cried Mr Reardon sternly. Then to me, "We seem to have checked them, Herrick." At that moment there was a sudden stoppage in front, and our coxswain growled-- "Starn all!" "What is it?" cried Mr Reardon, rising. There was a rattle of matchlocks from our right, and Mr Reardon fell sidewise on to me. "Hurt, sir?" I cried in agony. "Yes, badly--no--I don't know," he cried, struggling up with his hand to his head. "Here! why has that boat stopped?" His voice was drowned by the reports of our men's rifles, as they fired in the direction from which the shots had come; and just then a voice from the laden boat came through the semi-darkness-- "Ahoy!" "Yes; what is it?" I said, as I saw that a man had crawled over the stack-like load. "There's a gang in front, sir; and we're aground." "And the tide falling," muttered Mr Reardon. "Herrick, I'm a bit hurt; get our boat close up; half the men are to come astern here, and check the enemy; the other half to help unload and get enough into our boat to lighten the other." "Yes, sir," I said; and I gave the orders as quickly and decisively as I could. The men responded with a cheer; and, with scarcely any confusion, our boat's head was made fast to the other's stern, and the men swarmed on to the top of the load, and began to pass down the bales rapidly from hand to hand. Crash came a ragged volley from right ahead now; but this was answered by three rifles in the stern of the laden boat, and repeated again and again, while the strong party in the stern of ours kept up a fierce fire for a few minutes. It was a perilous time, for we knew that if the enemy pushed forward boldly we should be at their mercy. They could come right to the edge of the bank unseen, so dense was the cover; and, working as our men were at such a disadvantage in the gloom, which was rapidly growing deeper, there was no knowing how long it would be before the first boat was sufficiently lightened to float again; it even seemed to be possible that we might not keep pace with the fall of the tide, and then perhaps we should also be aground. "Hurt much, sir?" I said to Mr Reardon, who was now seated resting his head upon his hand. "Don't take any notice of me, my lad," he said, pressing my hand. "Hit by a bullet. Not very bad; but I'm half stunned and confused. The men and boats, Herrick; save them." "If I can," I thought, as I hurried forward again, and gave orders to the men to pass the silk bales that were nearest to the bows. "Ay, ay, sir," they shouted, as readily as if I had been the captain. From here I went back to the stern, where I found that Mr Reardon was seated now in the bottom of the boat, supported by Ching, while the men were keeping up a steady fire at every spot from which a shot or yell came. "We're hard at it, sir," said Tom Jecks, who was handling his rifle as coolly as if it had been a capstan bar; "but I don't think we're hitting any of 'em. How's the first luff seem?" "I don't know," I said excitedly. "Well, sir, we're all right," said the man, "and are doing our best. You needn't stop if you can hurry the boys on forward." It was a fact; I could do no good at all, so I hurried forward again. But even here I could do nothing; the men had their task to do of lightening the first boat, and they were working as hard as if they had been lying down in the shade all day, and just as coolly, though every now and then the rough slugs the pirates fired from their clumsy matchlocks went spattering through the trees overhead and sent down fresh showers of leaves and twigs. But I was obliged to say something, and I shouted first one order and then another. "That's your sort, lads," cried a cheery voice. "Down with 'em, and I'll stow. It's like bricklaying with big bricks." "Who's that?" I said sharply, for the man's back was towards me, and it was getting quite dark where we were. "Me it is, sir--Bob Saunders, sir. Beg pardon, sir." "Yes; what is it?" "Tide's going down very fast, sir, arn't it?" "Yes; why?" "'Cause we don't seem to get no forrarder. Hi! steady there! D'yer want to bury yer orficer?" "Never mind me, man. Stow away; she must soon be lightened enough to make her float." "Then we'll lighten her, sir; but don't you go and give orders for any of the stuff to be chucked overboard. It's too vallerble for that." "Only as a last resource, Bob," I replied. "Beg pardon, sir." "Don't," I cried to the man who touched me. "Never mind ceremony now; go on firing." "Yes, sir; but Tom Jecks says, sir, would you like six on us to land and have a go at the beggars?" "No," I cried. "Keep together; we may be afloat at any moment." "Right, sir; on'y we're all willing, if you give the word." "I know that," I cried. "But be careful, my lads. It's a terrible position, with our chief officer down like this." "So it is, sir," said the man, taking careful aim at a part of the bank where he thought that he saw a movement. Then, almost simultaneously, there was a flash from the place, and another from his rifle muzzle. "Either on us hit?" he said coolly, as I clapped my hand to my ear, which felt as if a jet of cold air had touched it. "Don't think I touched him, sir, but he has cut off. I can hear him going. Not hurt, are you, sir?" "No; a bullet must have gone close to my ear," I said. "Oh yes; I felt that, sir. It went between us. But it's no use to take no notice o' misses." "Well?" I said; for one of the men behind me now touched my arm, and I found it was Bob Saunders. "We're getting dead down at the head, sir; hadn't we better begin stowing aft?" "Yes, yes, of course," I said excitedly, and feeling annoyed that I had not thought of this myself. "Then, if you'll make the lads ease off to starboard and port, sir, we'll soon pack a row of these here little bales between 'em. Or look here, sir! how would it be to bring 'em a bit amidships, and let us begin right astarn, and build up a sort o' bulwark o' bales? They could fire from behind it when we'd done." "Yes, capital!" I cried, once more annoyed with myself because I, a mere boy, had not the foresight of an experienced man. "No, no," I cried the next moment. "How could we get at the tiller?" "You won't want no tiller, sir; we can row aboard easy enough, once we get out o' this fiddling little drain." "You are right, Saunders," I said. "Go on." All the while the men astern were keeping up a steady fire, which certainly had one effect, that of checking the enemy's advance. And now Saunders came aft with a bale on his head, keeping his balance wonderfully as he stepped over the thwarts. "Mind yer eye, Pigtail," he cried. "Keep back! Where are you coming?" growled a man who was loading. "Here, matey," cried Saunders; and he plumped the bale down right across the stern. "Hooroar!" cried Tom Jecks, stepping behind it, and resting his rifle on the top. No more was said, the men easing off out of the way as bale after bale was brought and planted in threes, so that when six had been placed there was a fine breast-work, which formed a splendid protection for those in the stern, and this was added to, until we were fairly safe from enemies behind. But once more we could hear them creeping nearer through the bushes on our right; the firing grew more dangerous, and there was nothing for it, I felt, but to order every man in the two boats to take his piece, shelter himself behind the bales, and help to beat the enemy back. It was a sad necessity, for I knew that the tide was falling very fast, and that before long we should be immovable; but to have kept on shifting the load and allow the enemy to get close in over our heads on the densely-clothed sides of the stream would, I knew, be madness; and the men showed how they appreciated the common-sense of the order by getting at once under cover, and then the sharp rattle of our fire was more than doubled. But, enraged by their defeat, and doubly mortified to find that we had discovered their treasure, the pirates seemed now to have cast aside their cowardice, and were creeping in nearer and nearer, yelling to each other by way of encouragement; and, in addition to keeping up an irregular fire, they strove, I suppose, to intimidate us by beating and making a deafening noise on gongs. "They will be too much for us," I thought, when we seemed to have been keeping up the struggle for hours, though minutes would have been a more correct definition; and, with the longing for help and counsel growing more and more intense, I was about to kneel down and speak to Mr Reardon, and ask him to try and save himself. But I started to my feet, for there was a louder yelling than ever, and the pirates made quite a rush, which brought them abreast of us. "Cutlasses!" I cried; and there was the rattle made in fixing them, bayonet fashion, on the rifles, when--_boom_!--_thud_!--came the roar of a heavy gun; there was a whistling shrieking in the air, and then somewhere overhead an ear-splitting crash, followed by the breaking of bushes and trampling down of grass and bamboo. Then perfect silence, followed by a cheer from our men. "Well done, _Teaser_!" shouted Tom Jecks. It was a diversion which, I believe, saved us, for the enemy fled for some distance, and gave us time to go on lightening the foremost boat. But before we had been at work many minutes there was a cheer from close at hand, and upon our answering it, another and another, with splashing of oars, and the next minute I heard Mr Brooke's voice from beyond the first boat. CHAPTER TWENTY THREE. SAVED. "Look sharp, sir," I said, after going forward, and in a few words explaining our position. "Right, my lad. Get your men together in the stern of your boat, and keep up the fire, while we make fast and try and tow you off. Hi! quick there!" he roared; and a cheer told us that another boat was close at hand. But my work was cut out, the men placed well under cover, and we waited listening for the first sounds of the returning enemy, while from time to time Mr Brooke's clear, short orders came out of the darkness behind us, and we knew that he had sent a party into the fixed boat to rock it from side to side. Then came a cheer, as the water rolled hissing and whispering among the reeds; there was the simultaneous plash of oars, and a creaking sound. Then another sound from the bank of the creek, which I knew well enough. "Say when, sir," whispered Tom Jecks. "They're a-coming on." To our astonishment, for the enemy had crept forward so silently that we had hardly heard a sound, there was a hideous yell, and a crashing volley, the bullets hissing over our heads again, and once more the gong-beating began. "Fire!" I said. "Yes, fire, my lads, steady--where you see the flashes of their matchlocks." The voice came from close to my ear. "Mr Reardon!" I cried in astonishment. "Yes, Herrick; that bullet quite stunned me for a minute or two. I'm better now. But hasn't it grown dark rather suddenly?" "Yes, sir," I said; for I felt in my excitement as if it would be impossible to enter into explanations then. "But we're in motion." "Hooray!" Every one took up that cheer; for the combined efforts of the men who rowed the laden craft, and the tugging of two boats' crews of men straining with all their might at their stout ashen blades, had the required effect. We were indeed in motion, and going steadily down the stream. "Ahoy, there: Mr Reardon!" "Answer him, Herrick," said Mr Reardon; and I hailed again. "Can you keep them off with your fire?" "Say, yes." "Yes; all right," I cried. "Then we'll tow you out as fast as we can." "Thank Heaven," I heard Mr Reardon whisper, as he crouched there, listening to the yelling, gong-beating, and firing, and with our men replying from time to time whenever there seemed a chance. And now the bullets from the matchlocks began to patter upon the bales; for the banks were growing lower and lower, and the trees more open, but not a man was hit; and after another quarter of an hour's sharp replying we heard fresh cheering, the overshadowing trees on the banks suddenly began to grow distant. Then it became lighter still, with the stars twinkling over head and the lights of the _Teaser_ apparently close at hand. But the enemy, enraged at our escape, now crowded down to the bank and began to fire rapidly, while the men replied till the _crack crack_ and _ping ping_ of the rifles was silenced,--the men stopping as if by mutual consent. For there was a flash from the side of the _Teaser_ right in front of us, a shell whistled over our heads and crashed in among the trees where the petty firing of the matchlocks was kept up. Then--_crash_! the shell sent shrieking amongst them exploded, and all was still but the steady beating of our oars. "Are you much hurt, sir?" I said to Mr Reardon; but Ching took the inquiry to himself. "Velly stiff; velly hungly," he said. "I wasn't speaking to you," I cried angrily; for my temper seemed to have suddenly grown painfully acid, and a titter rose from among the men. "No, Mr Herrick, scarcely at all. The bullet struck my cap-band, just above my temple, and glanced off. I can think more clearly now. How many men are hurt in this boat?" There was no reply; and as we at the same moment glided alongside, the question seemed to be echoed from the _Teaser's_ side high above our heads. Still no reply, and the captain said sharply-- "Who is below there, Mr Reardon--Mr Brooke?" "Ay, ay, sir," cried the latter. "How many men did you find they had lost?" "None, sir." "Brought all off safely?" "Yes, sir." A tremendous cheer arose from the deck. "I felt too giddy to speak just then, Herrick," said Mr Reardon. "Not one man injured except myself. It is marvellous, my lad. But there; we had plenty of poor fellows wounded aboard." Ten minutes later two of the boats were swinging at the davits, and our two were being towed astern, as the head of the _Teaser_ once more swung round, and we went down with the tide. We anchored off the mouth of the muddy river till morning, to which time was put off the hoisting on deck of the rest of the loot, the account of whose amount and probable value did more, they said, toward helping on the wounded than any of Dr Price's ministrations. But he had serious work with two of the wounded men, who tried very hard, as he put it, to go out of hand; but he wouldn't let them. Two of the pirates did die, though, and were cast overboard, sewn up decently in hammocks, and with shot at their heels. Seven days later we came to an anchor again off Tsin-Tsin, by which time Mr Reardon's right eye and temple were horribly discoloured, but in other respects he was quite well, and was present at what he called our second gaol delivery, for he came on deck to see the prisoners, wounded and sound, handed over to the Chinese authorities; but there was no such display of pomp as on the first occasion, one row-boat only coming alongside, with a very business-like officer, who superintended the chaining of the pirates, and bundled them down. "Just as if they had been so many sacks," Barkins said; and he was very apt in his comparison. I only said one word in allusion to the Chinese soldiery and their officers. That word was-- "Brutes!" CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR. A SURPRISE. I don't think the Chinese authorities were very grateful to us of the _Teaser_,--there, you see, I say _us_, for I did do something to help in routing out and destroying two nests of pirates; but the merchants, both Chinese and English, feted us most gloriously, and if it had not been for Mr Reardon we three middies might have always been ashore at dinners and dances. "But," cried Barkins, "so sure as one gets an invitation he puts his foot down." "Yes," said Smith; "and it is such a foot." "But it's such a pity," grumbled Barkins; "for Tsin-Tsin is after all rather a jolly place. Mr Brooke says the ball at the consul's last night was glorious, no end of Chinese swells there, and the music and dancing was fine." "Don't be so jolly envious, Tanner," sneered Smith. "You couldn't have danced if you had gone." "Dance better than you could," cried Barkins hotly. "No, you couldn't. Fancy asking a young lady to waltz, and then going dot-and-go-one round the room with your game leg." "You've a deal to talk about, Smithy; why, if you asked a lady to dance you couldn't lift your right arm to put round her waist." "Couldn't I?" cried Smith. "Look here." He swung his arm round me, took three steps, and dropped on to the locker, turning quite white with pain. "Told you so," cried Barkins, springing up. "Waltz? I should just think!--oh, murder!" He sat down suddenly to hold his leg tightly with both hands, giving Smith a dismal look. "Oh dear!" he groaned; "what a long time it does take a wound to get well in this plaguey country. I know that knife was poisoned." "Nonsense!" I cried, unable to restrain my mirth. "Why, you are both getting on famously." "But Dishy might have let us go to the ball last night." "Play fair," I said; "we've been out to seven entertainments." "Well, what of that? They've been to a dozen. It's all old Dishy's way of showing his authority. I'm sure we all work hard when we're on duty, and run risks enough." "Go on, you old grumbler. Aren't we to go up the river shooting on Thursday with Mr Brooke and the doctor?" "Yes, that's right enough; but we shall be off again soon on another cruise, and get no more fun for long enough." "I say, let's ask for a run ashore to-day." "And get chivvied by the pigtails, same as we did down at that other place." "Oh, but perhaps they'll be more civil here," I said. Smith burst out laughing. "Why, didn't they pelt you, and shy mud at the skipper?" "Oh, if you're afraid, you can stop," I said. "Tanner and I can go." "Afraid!" cried Smith, doubling his fist and holding it within an inch of my nose. "Say afraid again, you miserable insect, and I'll flatten you." "Couldn't with that hand," I said, and I caught his wrist. "Oh, don't! Murder!" he roared. "I say, you shouldn't. It's like touching one's arm with red-hot iron." "Then be civil," I said. "Ah, only wait. I say, Tanner, our day's coming. As soon as we're both quite strong he has got to pay for all this, hasn't he?" "Oh, bother! I say, the skipper and Dishy are both going ashore to-day with an escort of Jacks and marines." "Are they?" I said eagerly. "Yes; there's some game or another on. Let's ask leave, and take old Ching with us." "Want to try puppy-pie again?" said Smith, grinning. "I want to do something for a change. I know! I'll go and see the doctor, and tell him we want a walk in the country to collect flowers, and ask him if he'll name them." "Well, he can't give us leave." "No; but he'll ask Dishy to let us off." "Bravo!" cried Smith. "Off you go. I say, though, we must have old Ching too. You see if he don't come out in his new gown!" "What new gown?" I said. "Hallo! didn't you know? He went ashore yesterday and bought himself a new blue coat. Not a cotton one, but silk, real silk, my boy, and beckoned me to come and see it,--beckoned with one of his long claws. He's letting his fingernails grow now, and getting to be quite a swell." "Oh yes; old Ching's getting quite the gentleman. He says he wrote home to his broker to sell the fancee shop. What do you think he said, Gnat?" "How should I know?" I replied. "That it wasn't proper for a gentleman in Queen Victolia's service to keep a fancee shop." "Murder! Look at that!" cried Smith. "Why, you yellow-skinned old Celestial, you were listening!" Barkins and I picked up each something to throw at the round, smooth, smiling face thrust in at the door, which was held close to the neck, so that we saw a head and nothing more. "No flow thing at Ching," the Chinaman said softly. "Offlicer don't flow thing. Ching come in?" "Yes," said Barkins, "come in. What is it?" Ching entered looking very important, and gave his head a shake to make his tail fall neatly between his shoulders, and drew the long blue sleeves of his gown over the backs of his hands till only the tips of his fingers, with their very long nails, were visible. He advanced smiling at us each in turn, and bowing his round head like a china mandarin. "You all velly good boy?" he said softly. "Oh yes; beauties," said Barkins. "What's up?" "You likee ask leave go for bit walkee walkee?" "Don't!" roared Smith. "Don't talk like a nurse to us. Why don't you speak plain English?" "Yes; Ching speak ploper Inglis. No speakee pigeon Englis. All ploper. Interpleter. You likee go shore for walkee, see something?" "You beggar, you were listening," cried Barkins. "How long had you been there?" "Ching just come ask young genelman likee walkee walkee." "Yes, allee likee walkee walkee velly much," said Barkins, imitating the Chinaman's squeak. "Why? Can you give us leave?" Ching shook his head. "Go ask offlicer. Go for walkee walkee, take Ching; you likee see something velly nice ploper?" "Yes," I cried eagerly. "Can you take us to see a Chinese theatre?" Ching closed his eyes and nodded. "You come 'long o' Ching, I showee something velly nice ploper." "All right," I cried. "Now, Tanner, go and try it on with the doctor." "No, no. Ask offlicer. Doctor only give flizzick. Velly nastee. Ugh!" Ching's round face was a study as he screwed it up to show his disgust with the doctor's preparations. Barkins went off and returned directly. "Well," we cried; "seen Price?" and Ching, who was squatted on the floor, looked up smiling. "No." "Not seen him?" "No; I ran against Dishy, and thought I'd ask him plump." "And you did?" "Yes." "What did he say?" "I know," cried Smith; "that we were always going out." "That's it exactly." "And he won't let us go?" I said in a disappointed tone. "Who says so?" cried Barkins, changing his manner. "The old chap was in splendid fettle, and he smiled,--now, now, don't both of you be so jolly full of doubts. On my honour as an officer and a gentleman, he smiled and clapped me on the shoulder." "Yes, my lad, of course," he said. "We shall be off again soon, and then it will be all work and no play again, and we mustn't make Jack a dull boy, must we?" "He's going off his head," said Smith. "Let him go, then," I cried, "if it makes him like this." "Don't chatter so, Gnat," cried Smith. "I say, did he really say we might go?" "Yes; and that we ought to start at once before the day grew hotter, and that we were to take great care of ourselves." "Hurra!" "And be sure and wash our faces and our hands before we started," added Barkins. "Get out; I can see where it joins," I cried. "But did he say any more?" "Only that we were to mind and not get into any trouble with the people, and that we had better take Ching." "Yes," said that individual gravely. "Much better take Ching. Velly useful take care." "To be sure," I cried, full of excitement at the idea of a run through the mazes of the quaint town, and the prospect of seeing a Chinese performance. "I say, Ching," I cried, striking an attitude, "take us where you can give us a tune, `Ti--ope--I--ow.'" "Yes; velly nicee music," he said, nodding and smiling. "Ching takee see something velly good. You leady?" "In five minutes," cried Barkins. "Gnat, go and tell them to have the boat ready. Mr Reardon said we were to be rowed ashore." "Ching leady in five minutes," said the interpreter, running towards the door. "Eh? Why, you are ready," said Smith. "No. Go put on new blue silk flock. Leady dilectly." Ten minutes later we were being rowed ashore, to be landed at the wharf where we met with so unpleasant an attack a short time before. But there was no mob of idlers there now, and we stepped ashore, leaving the good-natured-looking crew smiling at us, and giving the shops many a longing look, as they pushed off and began to row back at once. "Plenty time," said Ching. "You likee fust go lestaulant--eatee, dlinkee, spend plize-money?" "Can't spend what we haven't yet got, Ching," said Barkins. "What do you say, lads? I'm hungry again, aren't you?" Smith sighed. "I'm always hungry," he said. "Of course you are. I believe he's hollow all through, Gnat. How do you feel?" "As if I haven't had any breakfast," I said earnestly. Ching smiled. "Velly much nicee bleakfast all along o' Ching." He led the way in and out among the narrow streets, apparently again as much at home as in his own city; and it was hard work to keep from stopping to gaze at the hundreds of objects which attracted and set me longing to make purchases to take home for curiosities. But Ching bustled us along. "No time now. Come along get good bleakfast. Wantee good bleakfast before go to see gland show." "Here, what is it you are going to take us to see, Ching?" cried Barkins--"all right; I wasn't talking to you," he added, as a couple of Chinamen turned round to gaze at the young outer barbarian. "You waitee," cried Ching, smiling; "all velly ploper gland. You likee see the show." "Oh, all right. Where's the restaurant?" "Nex' stleet," said Ching; and after a few minutes he turned into a showy-looking eating-house, where his blue silk gown and long nails seemed to command the most profound respect from the attendants; and where, after laying down the law very stringently to Ching, that we were to have neither dog, cat, nor rat, we resigned ourselves to our fate, and ate birds'-nest soup, shark-fin, and a variety of what Barkins called messes, with midshipmen appetites. Ching smiled, and seemed to be very proud of our performance. "You all eat dlink velly much," he said, as we gave up, defeated. "You all velly quite full?" he said, rubbing his hands carefully, so as not to injure his long nails. "Yes, full up, and the hatches battened down," cried Barkins. "Now then, ask for the bill. How much apiece?" Ching smiled and nodded his head. "You come have bleakfast 'long o' Ching. Ching velly glad to see you; Ching pay." "What? nonsense!" cried Smith, while we others stared. "Yes; Ching plenty money. Captain gave Ching plenty plize-money; make him velly happy to see young offlicer to bleakfast." "Oh, but we can't let him pay for us, Smithy," cried Barkins. "No, of course not," we chorussed. "Ching velly much hurt you want to pay," he said, with dignity. "But--" I cried. "You ask Ching bleakfast like Chinese genelman another time, make Ching velly glad. Come along, makee haste, see gland show." "But the bill isn't paid," I cried. "Ching pay long time 'go," he said, rising; and there was nothing for it but to follow him out and along three or four streets to where there was a dense crowd in front of a gateway in a high mud wall. There were some soldiers there too, and Ching walked up full of importance, showed them some kind of paper, when one, who appeared to be their officer, spoke to those under him, and they cleared a way for us to pass to the gate. Here Ching knocked loudly, and the gate was opened by another soldier; the paper was shown; and an important-looking official came up, looked at us, and made way for us to enter. "It's all right," said Smith. "Ching knows the manager. It will be a private box." The official pointed to our left, and Ching led the way behind a kind of barricade where there were seats erected, and, selecting a place, he smilingly made us sit down. "Ching know gleat mandalin," he said. "Askee let come see gland show." "But what's it going to be?" I asked, as I looked curiously round the square enclosure surrounded by a high wall, and with seats and pens on three sides. "I thought we were coming to a theatre!" "No," said Ching, smiling. "Velly gland show; wait." We waited, and saw that the space in front of us was neatly sanded, that posts stood up here and there. In other places there were cross bars, and in two there were ropes hanging. "I know!" cried Barkins; "he needn't make such a jolly mystery of it. It's Chinese athletic sports. Look, there's the band coming." He pointed to a military-looking party marching in with drums, gongs, and divers other instruments; and almost at the same time quite a crowd of well-dressed people entered, and began to take the different places reserved behind the barriers. Then a body of soldiers, with clumsy spears and shields, marched in and formed up opposite the band, the place filling up till only the best places, which were exactly opposite to us, remained empty. "You're right, Tanner," said Smith just then; "but they're military athletic sports. I say, here come the grandees." For in procession about twenty gorgeously-arrayed officials came marching in, and the next moment I gave Barkins a dig in the ribs. "Look," I said. "All right; I see. Well, we needn't mind. But I say, what a game if we hadn't got leave!" "I say," whispered Smith, "look over there. The skipper and old Dishy! This was where they were coming, then; they'll see us directly." "Let 'em," said Barkins, as the party settled themselves. "Now then, we're all here. All in to begin. We ought to have a programme. Here, Ching, what's the first thing they do?" "Ching no quite sure; p'laps lichi." "Lichi?" I said. "You don't know? You see velly gland--velly ploper for bad, bad man." He turned away to speak to a Chinese officer close at hand, while we began to feel wondering and suspicious, and gazed at each other with the same question on our lips. Ching turned to us again, and I being nearest whispered-- "I say, what place is this? What are they going to do?" "Bring out allee wicked men. Choppee off head." CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE. THE ENTERTAINMENT. I felt as it were a sudden jar run through me when I heard Ching's words. It was as if I had been awakened by a sudden revelation. This, then, was the grand show he had contrived for us as a treat! It was all clear enough: our officers had been invited to the execution of the pirates we had taken, and conceiving, with all a Chinaman's indifference to death, that we three lads, who had been present at their capture, would consider it as a great treat to be witnesses of the punishment awarded by the Government, Ching had contrived to get permission for us to be present. I glanced at the Tanner, who had grasped the situation, and was screwing his face up so as to look perfectly unconcerned; but it was a dismal failure, for I could see a peculiar twitching going on at the corners of his eyes, and he passed his tongue rapidly over his lips and went through the action of swallowing as if his mouth and throat were dry. I next looked at Smithy, whose eyes showed more white than usual, and whose complexion was of a sickly-green, just as I had seen it during some very rough weather we had going down the Channel on first starting for this voyage. How I looked I have only Barkins' word for, and he told me afterwards that I seemed as if I was waiting for my turn to suffer with the pirates. After the sharp glance I gave at my fellows neither of us stirred, but sat there as if petrified. I was horror-stricken, and there was a strong impulse upon me to jump up and run out, but shame and the dread of being considered cowardly kept me in my place. In fact, as after-confessions made clear, we were absolutely stunned, and I don't think we could have stirred had we made up our minds to go. Then I felt dizzy, and the brilliant group of officials and military magnates and judges opposite to where we sat grew blurred and strange-looking in the bright sunshine. At last I felt as if I must argue out the question, and with my teeth set firm, and my eyes fixed upon the sandy ground of the enclosure, some such thoughts as these ran through my brain--"It is only just that these men should suffer for their horrible crimes, for they are more dangerous than venomous serpents, and I suppose that Captain Thwaites and Lieutenant Reardon are obliged to come as a kind of duty; but we three came under the idea that we were to see some kind of exhibition, and old Ching did it out of kindness, not knowing of what kind of stuff we were made. I shan't stop." There I paused to fight with other ideas. "Tanner and Blacksmith will laugh at me and think I am a coward. Well, let them," I said to myself at last. "It isn't cowardice not to wish to see such a horror as this. I didn't feel cowardly when they were shooting at us down in the creek, and it would be far more cowardly to sit here against my will without speaking. I will tell them I want to go." I should think that every lad of the age I then was, will pretty well understand my feelings, and what a bitter thing it was to turn and confess what they would jeer at and call "funk." It was hard work indeed. "I don't care," I muttered. "I know they'll protest and say they don't want to come, but be very glad to come away all the time. I will speak." Just then that horrible Chinaman turned to me with his round fat face, all smiling and delighted. "You velly glad you come?" he said. "You feel velly happy?" My mind was made up at this, and I spoke out. "No," I said in a husky whisper. "I didn't know we had come to see this. I shall go." "What?" said Barkins, with a forced laugh. "Look here, Blacksmith, he's showing the white feather." "Ho! ho!" laughed Smith. "Come, Gnat, I thought you had a little more spirit in you. Serve the beggars right." "Yes, I know that," I said firmly enough now, as I looked at their faces, which, in spite of the masks they had assumed, looked ghastly; "and I daresay I haven't pluck enough to sit it out. But I don't care for your grins; I'm not ashamed to say that I shall go." "Oh, well, if you feel that it would upset you," said Barkins, in a tone of voice full of protest, "I suppose that we had better see you off, and go somewhere else." "Poof!" ejaculated Smith in a low tone. "Look at him, Gnat; he's in just as much of a stew as you are. Well, it's too bad of you both, but if you must go, why, I suppose we must." "You beggar!" snarled Barkins angrily. "Why, you're worse than I am. Look at him, Gnat! There, I will own it. I felt sick as soon as I knew what was going to happen, but I won't be such a bumptious, bragging sneak as he is. Look at his face. It's green and yellow. He wants to go worse than we do." Smith did not seem to be listening, for his starting eyes were fixed upon the far right-hand gate, over which there was a kind of pagoda, and he rose from his seat. "Come on at once," he whispered, "they're going to begin." "Confessed!" whispered Barkins, pinching my knee. "Come on then quick, Gnat, old man; it's too horrid." We all rose together, and were in the act of turning when a low hoarse murmur rose from behind, and we saw that a crowd of angry faces were gazing at us, and that they were nearly all armed men. But before we had recovered from our surprise, Ching had caught my arm and pressed me to my seat. "No go now," he whispered, with a look of alarm in his face, and he leaned over me and dragged my companions down in turn. "No can go now. Allee gate fasten. Makee blave velly angly and dlaw sword; fightee fightee. Ching velly solly. Must stop now." There was a low hissing noise all about us, and threatening looks, while a fierce man in embroidered silk said something in his own tongue to Ching, who answered humbly, and then tamed to us and whispered-- "Small-button mandalin say make big-button peacock-feather mandalin velly angly. You no sit still. Sh! sh!" "We must sit it out, boys," I said, with a shudder; "but we need not look." My words were quite correct to a certain extent, but as my companions, who now looked more ghastly than ever, sank back in their seats, I felt compelled to gaze across to where I could now see a red table exactly facing me. Then a movement to the right caught my attention, and through the far gateway, and lowering it a little as he passed under the archway, rode an officer with a yellow silk banner, upon which were large black Chinese characters. Behind him came some more showily-dressed officials; and then, in a kind of sedan chair, one whom I at once saw to be the chief mandarin, for whom we had been waiting. He was carried across to the front, where he alighted and walked slowly across to the red table, followed by sword, spear, and matchlock men, who, as he took his place at the table, ranged themselves on either side facing us, and completing a spectacle that, seen there in the bright light, strongly suggested the opening of some grand pantomime. I remember thinking this, and then shuddering at the horrible thought, and at the same time I began wondering at the intense interest I could not help taking in what was going on. Two more grandees in chairs of state followed, and then there was a pause. I could see that our officers were politely saluted, and that care was taken that no one should be in front of them. And now came the more exciting part of the terrible exhibition. Suddenly there was the loud booming of a gong, and the head of an escort of spearmen marched through the gateway, followed by a group of men in twos, each pair bearing a long bamboo pole, from which, hanging in each case like a scale, was a large basket, and heavily chained in each basket was a man, whom we knew at once to be one of the pirates we had captured, without Ching whispering to us-- "Velly bad men, killee evelybody. They killee now." My eyes would not close. They were fascinated by the horrible procession; and I now saw, just in front of the bearers, a tall-looking bare-headed man carrying a large bright sword, curved in the fashion we see in old pictures of the Turkish scimitar, a blade which increases in width from the hilt nearly to the end, where it is suddenly cut off diagonally to form a sharp point. Behind this man marched five more, the procession moving right to the front between us and the brilliant party whose centre was the principal mandarin. I now saw, too, that every one of the miserable culprits was ticketed or labelled, a bamboo upon which a piece of paper was stuck being attached to his neck and head. A low murmur ran round among the spectators, as, at a signal from the man with the great sword, who I saw now must be the executioner, the bearers stopped, and with a jerk threw the poles off their shoulders into their hands, bumped the baskets heavily down upon the ground, and shot the malefactors out as unceremoniously as if they had been so much earth. I heard Barkins draw a deep breath, and saw Smith leaning forward and gazing wildly at the scene, while I felt my heart go _throb throb_ heavily, and found myself wishing that I had not shared in the capture of the wretched men. The chief mandarin then turned to the officer on horseback, who carried the imperial yellow flag, said a few words in a low tone, and he in turn pushed his horse a little forward to where the executioner was waiting, and evidently conveyed the mandarin's orders. Then suddenly the pirates, as if moved by one consent, struggled to their feet and began shouting. Ching placed his lips close to my ear-- "Say, please no choppee off head. Velly bad men, killee lot always; velly bad." And now I felt that the time had come to close my eyes, but they remained fixed. I could not avert my gaze from a scene which was made more horrible by a struggle which took place between the first pirate of the long row in which they stood and the executioner. The man shouted out some words angrily, and Ching interpreted them in my ear, his explanation being in company with a strange surging noise-- "Say he come back and killee him if he choppee off head. Oh, he velly bad man." But quickly, as if quite accustomed to the task, two of the executioner's assistants rushed at the pirate; one of them forced him down into a kneeling position; they then seized his long tail, drew it over his head and hung back, thus holding the pirate's neck outstretched; lastly, I saw the executioner draw back, the sword flashed, I heard a dull thud--the head fell, and the body rolled over on one side. Before I could drag my eyes from the horror there was the same terrible sound again, and another head fell upon the ground, while, with a rapidity that was astounding, the assistants passed from one culprit to the other in the long row, the miserable wretches making not the slightest resistance, but kneeling patiently in the position in which they were thrust, while _whish, whish, whish_, the executioner lopped off their heads at one blow. "Allee done," said Ching. "Execution man have velly much plactice." He said this to me, but I made no reply, for the whole place seemed to be going round and round. "You thinkee they all come back again and have junk? Go kill shoot evelybody, pilate ghost-man?" "No," I said hoarsely; "can we go now?" "Velly soon. Gleat clowd all along gate. Lookee, Mis' Tanner go s'eep." These words roused me, and I turned to Barkins, who was lying back with his eyes nearly closed and looking ghastly, while Smith sat staring straight before him, with his hands grasping the seat on either side, in a stiff, awkward position. "Here, Smithy," I said, "quick, Tanner has fainted;" but he took no notice, and I whispered to him angrily-- "Get up. It's all over now. Come and help me. Don't let these horrible people see Tanner like this." He turned to me then, and let his eyes fall on our messmate. "Can you get me a drink of water, Ching?" he murmured. "Yes, d'leckly; wait lit' bit. Po' Mr Barki' Tanner leg velly bad, makee sick. You' alm velly bad still?" "Very bad; it throbs," murmured Smith. "Ah, yes! Wait lit' bit and no clowd. Ching take you have cup flesh tea, and quite well d'leckly. You not likee execution?" I shook my head. "Velly good job cut allee head off. No go killee killee, burn ship no more." "We're not used to seeing such things," I said weakly, as I supported Barkins to keep him from slipping to the ground. "You no go see execution when Queen Victolia cut off bad men's head?" I shook my head. "Ah, I see," said Ching. "Me tink you have velly gleat tleat. But I see, not used to see. Velly blave boy, not mind littlee bit next time." "What's the matter? Don't, doctor. It's getting well now." It was Barkins who spoke, and his hands went suddenly to his injured leg, and held it, as he bent over towards it and rocked himself to and fro. "Throbs and burns," he said, drawing in his breath as if in pain. "I-- I--" He looked round wildly. "I remember now," he said faintly. "Don't laugh at me, you chaps. I turned sick as a dog as soon as that butchering was over. I never felt like this over the fighting. I say, Gnat, did I faint right away?" "Yes, dead!" I said; "I was nearly as bad." "Enough to make you. But oh, my leg, how it does sting! I say, isn't it queer that it should come on now? Did the fainting do it?" "I dunno," said Smith hastily, "but my arm aches horribly. I say, do let's get away from here, or I shall be obliged to look over yonder again." "Yes, I'm all right again now," said Barkins quietly. "Let's get away. I say, lads, it's of no use to be humbugs; we did all feel precious bad, eh?" We looked at each other dolefully. "Yes, let's get away," I said. "I thought we were coming out for a jolly day." Barkins shuddered and now stood up. "Yes," he said; "I hope the skipper liked it. Can you see him now?" "Skipper? Cap'n?" said Ching, whose ears were always sharp enough to catch our words. "Gone along, Mr Leardon. Make gland plocession all away back to palace. You go sail, soon catch more pilate." "I hope, if we do," said Smith, "that we shall not bring back any prisoners." The enclosure was thinning fast now, as we walked toward the gateway by which we had entered, where a strong body of soldiers had been on guard over the barricades, in case of an attempt being made by the pirates' friends to rescue them, and we saw plainly enough that had we wanted there would have been no getting away. "You likee go in and see plison?" said Ching insinuatingly. "Plenty bad men lock up safe." "No, thank you," I said eagerly. "Let's get out of this, and go and have some tea." "Yes, plenty tea. Ching show way." The Chinese soldiers stared at us haughtily as we walked by, and I drew myself up, hoping that no one there had witnessed our weakness, for if they had I knew that they could not feel much respect for the blue-jackets who hunted down the scoundrels that infested their seas. Both Barkins and Smith must have felt something after the fashion that I did, for they too drew themselves up, returned the haughty stares, and Barkins stopped short to look one truculent savage fellow over from head to foot, especially gazing at his weapons, and then, turning coolly to me, he said, with a nod in the man's direction-- "Tidy sort of stuff to make soldiers off, Gnat, but too heavy." The man's eyes flashed and his hand stole toward his sword hilt. "'Tention!" roared Barkins with a fierce stamp, and though the order was new to the guard, he took it to be a military command and stepped back to remain stiff and motionless. "Ha! that's better," cried Barkins, and he nodded and then passed on with us after Ching, whose eyes bespoke the agony of terror he felt. "Come long quickee," he whispered excitedly. "Very big blave that fellow. Killee--fightee man. You no 'flaid of him?" "Afraid? No," said Barkins shortly. "There, let's have this tea." Ching glanced round once, and we were about to imitate his example, but he said excitedly-- "No, no, don't lookee. Big blave talkee talkee soldier, and tink Inglis offlicer 'flaid. Walkee past." He led us as quickly as he could get us to go towards the tea-house he sought, and I must own that I was only too anxious about the Chinese guards to help feeling in a good deal of perturbation lest they should feel that they had been insulted, and follow us so as to take revenge. Hence I was glad enough to get within the tea-house's hospitable walls, and sat there quite content to go on sipping the fragrant infusion for long enough. I suppose we were there quite an hour and a half drinking tea, until we were satisfied, and then passing a look round to draw attention to our interpreter, who sat back with his eyes half closed, sipping away cupful after cupful, till Smith whispered to me that he thought he had kept correct account. "How many do you think Ching has had?" he whispered. "Don't know; nearly a dozen?" "Fifty-three, or thereabouts," whispered Smith. But I did not believe him, and I do not think he believed himself. "Now, you likee go 'long see somethin' else?" said Ching, when he had really drunk tea enough. "Yes," said Barkins, "I feel ready. What do you say to going to see the _Teaser_, lads?" he continued. "I'm willing," said Smith. "I want to lie down." "You ready, Gnat?" "Oh yes," I replied. "I don't feel as if I could enjoy anything to-day." "Right, then. No, Ching; back on board ship." "You go velly soon? Now?" "Yes, directly." Ching smiled--he had a habit of smiling at everything nearly, and we paid our reckoning and followed him down to the landing-place, to arrive there just in time to see the barge with the captain and his escort gliding rapidly away toward the ship. "Too soon findee boat," said Ching. "Tellee man come when sun go out of sight." "Yes, and that means two hours good," said Barkins. "Look here, Ching, hire a boat cheap. Get a fellow with a sailing-boat, if you can." "Yes," said the Chinaman, nodding his head in a satisfied way, "Good boat--velly nice boat--boat with velly big sail fly over water, eh?" "Yes, that's it," said Barkins. "And look sharp, for there are a lot of low blackguardly-looking fellows coming up, and we don't want another row." Barkins was quite right, for, as in our own seaports, there were plenty of roughs about, and whether in blue frocks and pith boots or British rags, the loafer is much the same. Ching saw at a glance that the sooner we were off the better, and hurried us a little way along the wharf till he saw a boat that seemed suitable. "You all get in velly quick," he said. "But we must make a bargain with the man." "Plesently," he replied, as we hurried in, and he ordered the man in charge to put off. The man began to protest volubly, but Ching rose up, and with a fierce look rustled his new coat and sat down again, with the result that the man loosened the rope which held his boat to the side, and the swift tide began to bear us away directly, the man hoisting up a small matting-sail and then meekly thrusting an oar over, with which to steer. "Why, what did you say to him, Ching?" I asked; and the interpreter smiled, and wrinkled up his eyes till he resembled a piece of old china on a chimney-piece. "Ching say velly lit' bit; only shake his new coat till common man see it silk. He feel velly much flighten all a same, as if big-button mandalin get in him boat." "And what shall we have to pay him?" "P'laps nothing 'tall." "Oh, nonsense!" I said. "We must pay him the proper fare." "Velly well, pay him ploper money." I anticipated trouble, but when we got to the side and a dollar was handed to the man, his heavy round face lit up with pleasure, and he said something aloud. "What does he say, Ching?" I asked. "Say velly glad, and didn't tink he get anything 'tall." We made the best of our way below, fully expecting that, if the captain and Mr Reardon saw us, they would take us to task for being at the execution, and ask; us how we dared to follow them there. But, as luck had it, they had been too much occupied by the horrible affair in progress, and our presence had escaped them. But it was a long while before I could get the scene out of my head or think of our trip ashore that day as anything but a horrible mistake. CHAPTER TWENTY SIX. "MAN OVERBOARD." It was a great relief to us all to find that our visit to the Chinese prison had not been noticed. We of course kept silence about it, not even telling Mr Brooke, who was the most friendly of our officers, and we had the satisfaction of finding that Ching obeyed our orders, and kept his peace. I used to be rather sorry for him, his position being so solitary on board. For he could not make himself at home with the sailors in the forecastle, and though as frank, good-hearted fellows as ever lived, they seemed to look upon him only in one way, that of being a butt for their sharp witticisms, an object upon whom they were to play practical jokes. Consequently I used often, when I found him standing alone by the bulwarks watching the shore, to edge up to him, and stop to talk; our conversation being directed by me toward some little unpleasantry in the forecastle, which if he had complained about to the first lieutenant, there would have been a severe reprimand. I remember one of these occasions, when Ching came flying up out of the hatch, followed by a roar of laughter, and as he reached the deck, _clang-clang_ went something against the sides of the hatch; but Ching paid no heed, running forward till he was right up by the side of the bowsprit. I followed quickly, feeling angry on the man's behalf. "What's the matter?" I cried. "What have they been doing?" "No know," he said rather pitifully, as he stood there trembling. "Done something. Thlow tin-kettle after." "But what for? What were you doing?" "Doing? fass 'sleep, dleam 'bout big fly come and bite leg. Jump up and lun. Then thlow kettle after." "Here, let's look," I said; for as he shook his head there was the same hollow sound again, just like that made by a tin sheep-bell. "Why, they've tied it to you," I said sharply. "Tie to Ching flock? Don't matter. Not bess blue silkee." "Here, let me see," I cried. "Turn round." He turned sharply, and something banged against the bulwark. "What a shame!" I cried. "They've tied the old canister to your tail." "Tie canny all along Ching tow-chang?" he cried. "Yes, and it's a rascally shame." "Yes, allee lascally shame," he said, nodding his head. "Not hurt velly. Only flighten velly much, makee lun fass." "Stand still, and I'll soon have it off," I cried, whipping out my knife. "No, no," he cried, dragging the long plait from my hand; "mightee cut tow-chang, and that velly dleadful. Take long time glow." "Very well, then. I'll unfasten it, and show it to Mr Reardon." "What for? make Mis' Leardon velly angly, scold jolly sailor boy. Then they not like Ching 'tall." "But it's too bad; treating you just as if you were a dog." "Jolly sailor boy tie tin-pot dog tow-chang? No. Mr Hellick make laugh. Dog not got tow-chang." "No," I said, trying very hard to get the pot off, "but dogs have got tails." "Yes, got tails. Don't tellee, make no good. Didn't hurt Ching." "But it's an insult to you," I said. "Any one would think they were a pack of boys." "Yes, jolly sailor boy. You no makee come off?" "No," I said. "They've made a big hole through the bottom of the canister, pushed the end of the tail--" "Tow-chang." "Well, tow-chang, if you like to call it so--through into the inside, and then hammered the tin back round it and made it as fast as fast. Here, I shall have to cut it, Ching." "No, no," he cried, seizing the canister. "No cuttee piece of tow-chang." "Then how are we to get it off?" "Don't know, Mr Hellick; look velly bad?" "Horrible--absurd; every one will laugh at you." "Yes, velly bad. Ching put it in pocket." "Oh, you're there, are you?" I cried, as Tom Jecks came cautiously on deck. "I should have thought that a man of your years would have known better than to help torment this poor Chinaman." "Not velly poor," he whispered. "Ching got fancee shop. Plenty plize-money now." "Didn't have nought to do with it," growled Tom Jecks. "Then who did, sir?" "Dunno, sir; some o' the boys. I was caulking till they wakened me wi' laughing." "But you saw it done?" "No, sir; it was all done aforehand. They'd turned his tail into a bull-roarer, and if you was to swing it round now like a windmill, it would make no end of a row." "Silence, sir," I cried. "It's disgraceful." "Lor', sir, they on'y meant it for a bit of a lark." "Then they should lark among themselves, and not take advantage of a poor foreigner whom they ought to protect." "Yes, sir, that's right enough. But he were asleep, and it didn't hurt him till one on 'em stuck a pin in his leg to waken him up." "Ah!" I cried. "Who did?" "Well, sir," said Tom Jecks. "Now you do puzzle me above a bit. It was one o' the lads, because the pin must have gone into his leg, for he squeaked out and then run up the ladder with the tin-pot banging about right and left, but who it was stuck that pin in, it were so dark that I couldn't say." "You mean that you won't say, Tom?" "Well, sir, you're orficer, and I'm on'y AB, and I shan't contradict you; have it that way if you like." "I shall say no more, but we'll see what Mr Reardon says when he hears about it." "Why, Mr Herrick, sir, yo' wouldn't go and tell upon the poor lads, would you? It were on'y a bit of a game, were it, Mr Ching?" "No, only bit game," said the Chinaman. "There, you hear, sir. There wasn't no bones broke." "Hold your tongue, sir." "Cert'n'y, sir." "And come here." Tom Jecks stepped forward obsequiously. "Look, the tin sticks all round fast into the tail as if it were a rabbit trap." "Ay, sir, it do; and if I might say so, they managed it very cleverly." "Cleverly?" "Yes, sir. If I'd been doing it, I should on'y have thought of tying it on with a bit o' spun-yarn; but this here tin holds it wonderful tight." "How are we to get it off?" "Oh, I can soon get it off," cried Tom Jecks, who seemed to be imbued with the same notion as Alexander of old, who unsheathed his sword to cut the Gordian knot. For he hauled out his knife by the lanyard, opened the blade with his teeth, and took a step forward, but Ching held the canister behind him and dodged round me. "Steady, my lad," growled Tom Jecks, "it arn't a operation. Stand by." "No, no, no!" shrieked Ching. "Steady, my lad, I'll soon have it off. I won't cut down to the bone." "No, no!" cried Ching, who was excited and alarmed, and who now began chattering in his own tongue, all _pang ang nong wong ong_, and a series of guttural sounds, while I could do nothing for laughing, but had to stand like a post for Ching to dodge behind. "Why don't you stand by, messmate?" growled Tom Jecks. "You can't go through life with that there tin-kettle tied to your tail. Fust one as see yer will be calling, `Mad dog.'" By this time the watch had come to see what was going on, and I now began to feel sorry for the Chinaman. "Here, Ching," I said. "Come down below." But he was too much alarmed for the moment to listen to my words, expecting every moment as he was that some one would make a snatch at his tail, to obviate which accident he was now holding the canister tightly beneath his arm, and looking wildly round for a way to escape. "Hadn't we better have it took off, sir?" said Tom Jecks, and there was a roar of laughter. "Let's ketch him and take him to the doctor." "No, no!" cried Ching, dodging round me again, for Tom Jecks, to the delight of the others, made a snatch at him. "You'll be a deal more comfortable, messmate--you know you will. Here, let's have it?" Tom Jecks made another snatch at him, but Ching avoided it, and to save him from further annoyance I too made a snatch. Poor fellow, interpreter though he was, he misinterpreted my intentions. He tore away from my grasp and made a rush forward, but several men were coming in that direction, and he dashed back to find himself faced by Tom Jecks again. In his desperation he charged right at the sailor, lowering his head as he did so, and striking him with so much force that Tom Jecks went down sprawling, and Ching leaped over him. There was no way open to him for escape, as it seemed, and he made a rush for the side, leaped up, was on the bulwarks in an instant, and made a snatch at the foremast shrouds as if to climb up into the rigging, when either his foot slipped or his long loose cotton jacket caught in something, I don't know how it was, but one moment I saw him staggering, the next there was the terrible cry of "Man overboard" raised as I rushed toward the side, heard the splash, and got upon the bulwark in time to see the agitated water. That was all. It was rapidly getting dark, the tide was running swiftly seaward, and even if the Chinaman could swim it seemed very doubtful whether he could maintain himself long, hampered as he was by his loose clinging clothes. But at the raising of the cry, "Man overboard," there is not much time lost on board a man-of-war. A crew leaped into the boat; the falls were seized; and in a minute the keel touched the water, and I found myself, as I stood on the bulwark holding on by a rope, called upon to direct those who had gone. "Which way, sir? See him?" I could only answer no, and then reply to Mr Reardon, who came up panting. "Who is it?" he cried. "Mr Herrick?" "No, sir, I'm here," I shouted. "It's the interpreter." "And what business had he up on the hammock-rail?" roared the lieutenant as he climbed up there himself. "Steady, my lads, he can't be far." At that moment there was a flash, and a brilliant blue-light burst out on the surface of the black water, sending a glare all round from where it floated on the trigger life-buoy, which had been detached and glided away astern, while directly after a second blue-light blazed out from the stern of the boat, showing the men dipping their oars lightly, and two forward and two astern shading their eyes and scanning the flashing and sparkling water. "Can't you see him?" roared the lieutenant. "No, sir." We leaped downward, hurried right aft where the captain and the other officers were now gathered, and the orders were given for a second boat to be lowered and help to save the poor fellow. "He ought to float, sir," said Mr Reardon in answer to some remark from the captain. "He's fat enough." Then he began shouting orders to the men to row to and fro; and my heart sank as I vainly searched the lit-up water, for there was no sign of the unfortunate Chinaman. "What a horrible ending to a practical joke!" I thought, and a bitter feeling of disappointment assailed me, as I asked myself why I had not gone in the second boat to help save the poor fellow. Perhaps it was vanity, but in those exciting moments I felt that if I had been there I might have seen him, for it never occurred to me that I had a far better chance of seeing him from my post of vantage high up on that quarter-deck rail. "See him yet?" "No, sir!"--"No, sir!" The first hail loudly from close by, the other from far away where the blue-lights shone. "Bless my soul!" cried Mr Reardon, with an angry stamp. "I can't understand it. He must have come up again." "Unless his pockets were heavily laden," said the captain, going to where Mr Reardon stood. "These men carry a great deal about them under their long loose clothes. Some heavy copper money, perhaps. A very little would be enough to keep a struggling man down." "Ha!" ejaculated Mr Reardon, while I shivered at the idea of poor old Ching coming to so terrible an end. "A glass here!" cried Mr Reardon, and one was handed up to him. "Try the life-buoy," cried the captain. "Bless me, sir, I was going to," retorted the lieutenant irritably; "but the idiot who uses this glass ought to be turned out of the service for being short-sighted. I shall never get it to the right focus." The captain gave a dry cough, and I turned round sharply, expecting to hear some angry exclamation. "No," cried Mr Reardon, "he is not clinging to the life-buoy. I wouldn't for anything that it should have happened. Poor fellow! Poor fellow!" "Ay, poor fellow!" muttered Captain Thwaites. "Any use to lower another boat, Reardon?" "No, sir, no," cried the lieutenant, "or I would have had one down. Ahoy there!" he roared. "Light another blue!" "Ay, ay, sir!" came from far away, for the tide ran hissing by our sides in full rush for the sea, and the third blue-light which blazed out looked smaller and smaller, while those of the first boat and the life-buoy began to show faint, and then all at once that on the buoy seemed to go out. "That blue-light ought to have burned longer on the buoy," cried Mr Reardon. "They've picked up the buoy and laid it across the bows of the boat," said Mr Brooke, who was watching through his night-glass, and at that moment the light blazed out again like a star. And still the halos shed by the lights grew fainter and fainter. Then one light burned out, and the lieutenant stamped with anger, but there was no cause for his irritation. Another flashed out directly. The boats were too far away now for us to see much of what was going on, the heads of the men growing blurred, but we saw that they were zig-zagging across the tide, and we listened in vain for the hail and the cheer that should accompany the words-- "Got him, sir!" The buzz of conversation among the men, who clustered on deck, in the shrouds and tops, grew fainter, and I was thinking whether I was very much to blame, and if I could in any way have saved the poor fellow. Then I began thinking of the men in the forecastle, and their punishment for being the cause, in their boyish way of playing tricks, of the poor Chinaman's death. I wouldn't be Tom Jecks for all the world, I muttered, and then I turned cold and shuddered, as the hope, faint though it was, of Ching being picked up went out like one of the lights that now disappeared; for Captain Thwaites said sadly-- "I'm afraid we must recall the boats, Mr Reardon." "Yes, sir," said the lieutenant in a husky voice. "I don't think any one is to blame about the attempt to save the poor fellow, sir. The life-buoy was let go, and the boat lowered promptly; the dishipline of the men was good." "Excellent, Mr Reardon. I have nothing to say there. It would have been better perhaps to have lowered down the second boat sooner. But I think we have done our best. Can you make them hear from this distance?" "Yes, I think so; a voice will travel far over the smooth water on a still night like this. Shall I recall them?" Captain Thwaites was silent for a full minute, and we all stood gazing aft at the faint stars on the black water, while to right and left were those that were more dim and distant, being the paper lanterns of the house-boats moored a short distance from the bank. Then the captain spoke again, and his words re-illumined the parting light of hope which flashed up like an expiring flame. "Do you think he has struck out straight for the shore?" "He may have done so, sir," replied Mr Reardon, as we all stood in a knot together on the quarter-deck, "but he could never have reached it." "Not in this mill-race of a tide!" said Captain Thwaites. "Recall the boats." But Mr Reardon made no sign. He stood there gazing through the night-glass for some moments, and the captain spoke again. "Recall the boats, Mr Reardon." "I beg your pardon, sir," said the lieutenant, with quite a start. "Aloft there! Who's in the foretop?" "Ay, ay, sir; Jecks, sir." I shivered. "Hail the boats to come back." The man did not answer for a moment, and Mr Reardon made an angry gesture, but just then Tom Jecks, with his hands to his mouth, sent forth a hoarse deep-toned roar. Then there was a pause and a faintly-heard hail came from far away, the zig-zagging movement of the boats ceased, and we saw one of them, that is to say one of the lights, glide slowly toward the other, till one was apparently only a short distance in front, and the other following. "Let me know when the boats come alongside, Mr Reardon," said the captain quietly. "Yes, sir." "And, by the way, I'll trouble you for my night-glass." Mr Reardon gave a violent start. "Your night-glass, sir?" he said. "Yes, mine; you borrowed it." The lieutenant handed the telescope without a word, and at another time we should all have had to turn away to smother the desire to burst out laughing, as we recalled the irritable remarks about the idiot to whom the glass belonged, and the wretchedness of his eyesight, coupled with an opinion that he ought to be dismissed the service. But it was not a time for mirth: we were all too sad, and Barkins contented himself with whispering-- "I say, I'm jolly glad it wasn't I who said that. Don't the skipper take it coolly now? But he'll give old Dishy a talking-to for it when he gets him alone." Mr Reardon's face was not visible to us, but we could see his movements, which were, so to speak, fidgety, for he began to walk up and down hastily, and once or twice I heard him mutter-- "How could I be such a fool?" A dead chill had settled down upon the ship, and I felt as I stood there as if eight or nine years had suddenly dropped away from me--that I was a little child again, and that I should like to creep below somewhere out of sight, or sit down and cry and sob. For it was such a horrible lesson to me of the nearness of death, and I felt as if it was impossible for it all to be true--that it must be some terrible dream. And now for the first time it dawned upon me that I had a liking for the strange, simple-hearted Chinaman, who had always shown himself to be frank, honest, and brave in our service. He had been comic and peculiar, but always devoted to me as a faithful servant; and now, just too as I was joining in the mirth against him, instead of being indignant on behalf of one who had been insulted by the men's horseplay, he was as it were snatched from life to death. I was brought back to the present by a voice at my ear-- "Poor old Ching! I am sorry, Gnat." "Yes, and so am I." I had not seen my messmates all through the trouble, and now they appeared close to me in the darkness in a way which made me start. I turned to them, and I don't know how it was, but as we three stood there in the darkness, which was hardly relieved by a lantern here and there, Barkins held out his hand and shook mine, holding it tightly without letting go. Directly after, Smith took my other hand to give it a warm, strong pressure; and then we three parted without a word more, Barkins going one way, Smith another, while I went to the stern rail and leaned my arms upon it, and then rested my chin upon my arms to gaze out over the rushing water at the two blue stars. But they were not there now. They had burned out some time before, and I could see nothing, only take it for granted that the boats were being slowly rowed back against the heavy tide, our anchor-lights acting as their guide. "Is it possible that they have found him after all?" I thought, and for a minute I was hopeful. But once more the hope died out, for I knew well enough that if they had picked the poor fellow up they would have cheered. CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN. A SURPRISE. That night had set in very dark. The clouds were heavy overhead, and the river now looked intensely black, but toward the shore there were the dull lights of the Chinese town glimmering in the water, while from some building, whether on account of a religious ceremony or a festival, a great gong was being beaten heavily, its deep, sonorous, quivering tones floating over the place, and reaching my ears like the tolling of a church bell. It only wanted that depressing sound to make my spirits at the lowest ebb, and set me thinking of home, the perils of the career in which I was engaged, and wondering whether I should ever see England again. The watch had been set, and from time to time Mr Reardon came aft to look anxiously astern. The last time Mr Brooke was with him, and they stopped near where I was standing. "But they ought to be back by now," Mr Reardon said. "It's a long pull," Mr Brooke replied, "and the tide is terribly sharp at this time." "Yes, yes--it is; but I want to see them back. Who's that?" "Herrick, sir." "Oh! Looking out for the boats?" "Yes, sir." "That's right. I like to see a young officer take an interest in the men." They moved away to walk forward, while my face burned, for I did not deserve the praise, and my words had not been quite so honest as I could have wished. All at once, from out of the blackness astern, I heard the regular dip of oars, and at the same moment one of the watch challenged and received an answer. A minute later they were close up, and I shouted-- "Found him?" "No, sir; not a sign of him anywhere." I uttered a low groan, and the boats separated, one going to starboard and the other to port, to be hauled up to their quarters, and there was the customary trampling of the men going to their positions to run them up. "Poor old Ching!" I said aloud; and then I started back as if I had received a stroke, for my name was uttered from below in a sharp whisper. "Mister Hellick! Mister Hellick!" "Ching!" I cried, leaning over as far as I could reach, and gazing down at the water. "Help!--help!" I shouted. "Here he is!" Mr Brooke ran to me. "What do you mean, my lad?" "He's down here," I cried, "clinging to the chains." "Nonsense! the boats would have seen him." "But he is," I cried. "He has just called me. Below there! Ching!" "Yes; help! Velly cold," came up in a piteous wail. "Hold hard there!" shouted Mr Brooke. "Port boat back here under the counter." The falls were unhooked, and the boat drawn back by the coxswain till she passed round close to the rudder. "Any one there?" cried Mr Brooke. "Ay, ay, sir!" and a cheer broke out from the men hurrying aft. "Help! help!" came in a sharp wail. "No cut tow-chang! No cut tow-chang!" "Nobody's going to cut it, my lad. All right, we've got you," came up from close under the stern windows, where even if it had been light we could not have seen. "Found him?" cried the captain, who now came up. "Ay, ay, sir! Will you lower us down a lantern, sir? He's tied up somehow to the chain and a ring-bolt. We can't quite lee." The next minute, as I stood there longing to lower myself down into the boat, a lantern was swung over to them; while the men came swarming up the hatchway, for the news had soon spread, and they came running as far aft as they dared. "Now then, steady," came from beneath us. "Let go; we've got you, I say." "No cuttee tow-chang! No cuttee tow-chang!" "Then he must have caught at the rudder-chains as he was swept along the side," said the captain. "Why didn't the fellow hail us, instead of letting the boats go on such a fool's errand?" "Too much scared, sir," replied Mr Reardon. "Below there! Got him in the boat?" "Got him, sir, and we can't get him," said one of the men. "He's all twissen up round the chain in a knot somehow." "What?" "He's tied hisself up somehow." "Well, then, cut him loose, man," cried Mr Reardon. "No cuttee tow-chang! No cuttee tow-chang!" cried Ching in a piteous wail. "Not cut his toe?" said the captain in a tone full of disgust. "What does he mean? He can't have tied his foot to the chain." "Hold still, will yer!" growled a deep voice; "I'm only untwisten on it. Nobody wants to cut yer pigtail." "Oh, no cuttee tow-chang!" wailed Ching piteously. "Tow-chang?" said the captain. "Yes, sir; his tail," I said. "Oh, I see! They're very proud of the length." "Well, I'm blessed if ever I see such a snarl," cried the man below. "That's it. There you are. Here, cut this hankychy thing." "Got him now?" "Ay, ay, sir! all right," came from the boat; and at this the men burst out cheering again like mad, while the boat was drawn along the side with difficulty till the falls were reached, hooked on, and with a stamp and a run she was hauled up, and I was close up to the side as she was swung in, and Ching lifted out dripping, and sank down in a heap as soon as the men tried to set him on his feet. "Here, let me have a look at him," said the doctor. "But first of all, why did you cling there instead of calling for help?" cried Mr Reardon angrily. "Bah! don't worry the man, sir," said the doctor sharply. "He's nearly insensible. What's this canister doing at the end of his tail?" "Bah!" ejaculated the captain angrily, and he said something to Mr Reardon, and then went down to the cabin. "Look here," cried the lieutenant angrily, "I want the names of the men who played this blackguardly trick upon the poor fellow." "Yes, afterwards," said the doctor. "He's insensible, poor fellow. Here, one of you, a knife?" Half-a-dozen jack-knives were opened and presented to the doctor, but I sprang forward. "Don't do that, sir, please!" I cried excitedly. "Eh? Not cut off this absurd thing?" "No, sir. The poor fellow went overboard to escape having the pigtail cut, and it would break his heart." Mr Reardon turned upon me sharply, and I anticipated a severe reproof, but he only gave me a nod. "Carry him below," he said. And I walked beside the men to save the poor fellow from any fresh indignity, while half-an-hour later he had had a good rubbing and was lying in hot blankets fast asleep, partly from exhaustion, partly consequent upon having had a tumbler of mixture, steaming and odorous, which the doctor had administered with his own hands. "Not to be taken every three hours, Herrick," he said, with a curious dry smile. "Fine mixture that, in its proper place. Know what it was?" "It smelt like grog, sir," I replied. "Oh, did it? Now, do you for a moment suppose that when a carefully-trained medical man of great experience is called in to a patient suffering from shock and a long immersion he would prescribe and exhibit such a commonplace remedy as grog?" "Don't know, sir," I said. "But I should." "Then, my good lad, as soon as you get back from this unpleasant voyage, the best thing you can do will be to go straight to your father and tell him that you have made a mistake in your vocation, and that he had better enter you for a series of terms at one of the universities, and then as a student at one of the hospitals." "But I'm going to be a sailor, sir." "Yes, a bad one, I daresay, my lad, when you might become a good doctor or surgeon." "But I don't want to be one," I replied, laughing. "Of course not, when it is the grandest profession in the world." "But do you think he will come round all right, sir?" I said anxiously. "Oh yes, of course. But you are not going to let that absurd thing stop on the end of his tail?" "No, sir," I replied. "I'm going to try and get it off directly." "How?" "Lay it on a stool and stamp upon it." "Good! that will flatten it and make the opening gape." It did, after the exercise of a fair amount of pressure; and then, by the help of Tom Jecks, who was wonderfully penitent now, and eager to help with a tool he brought--to wit, a marlinespike--the star-like points of tin were one by one forced out, and the tail withdrawn uninjured, except that the silk ribbon at the end was a good deal frayed. "Ha!" ejaculated Tom. "We've made an end of it at last. My word, Mr Herrick, sir, it's truly-thankful-Amen I am that the poor chap's all right again." "And so am I, Tom Jecks," I replied. "O' course you is, sir; I never meant to cut his tail, only to frighten him a bit; but, poor heathen, he took it all as serious as seas. Shall I go and chuck the tin-can overboard?" "No; leave it here for him to find when he wakes up." "Right it is, sir. But what a fuss for a man to make about a bit o' hair. He never howls about having his head shaved." "No," I said; "but you see he would have given anything sooner than have his tail touched." "And most got drownded, sir. Well, that all come o' the lads skylarking. If ever I'm skipper of a ship, no skylarking then. I s'pose there'll be a reglar hooroar in the morning, and Mr Reardon wanting to know who started the game." "And you'll tell him, Tom?" I said. "O' course, sir," he replied, with a solemn wink. "I'm just the man to go and split upon my messmates." "But you'll be punished if you don't tell. You can't get out of it, because it's known that you were teasing him; and it wouldn't be fair for you to be punished and for them to escape." "No, sir, it wouldn't; but sech is life. Wrong chap generally gets the kick as some one else ought to have ketched, but 'tarn't your fault, and it's no use to grumble." "But it is your fault, if you know who were the offenders and will not tell." "Is it? Humph! S'pose it is, sir. You're right. That's where you gents as is scholards gets over the like of me. I see it now; you are right, sir. What a wonderful head you've got for arguing, sewerly!" "Then you'll tell Mr Reardon in the morning?" "I didn't say as I would, sir." "No; but you will?" "No, sir, but I won't!" he said emphatically. "But I say, sir, do you think if I was to go overboard, and then hitch myself on to the rudder-chains till I was took aboard, the doctor'd give me a dose of that same physic as he give him?" "Very likely, Tom," I said. "But you'd rather be without, wouldn't you?" He smiled. "But it was physic?" "Oh yes, sir, it was physic. But then you see there's physic as he takes out of one of his little bottles with stoppers, and there's physic as he makes out of the ship's rum, hot with sugar. I could take a dose now easy, and it would do me good." "Nonsense!" I said, after a glance at the sleeping Chinaman. "But I say, Jecks, how did he manage?" "Oh, easy enough, sir. Tide would suck him right along the side, and he'd catch the chains." "But how did he get in such a tangle?" "Tied hisself on, sir, with a handkerchy round his left arm, to the chain; and then Dick Spurling says he twissened his tow-chang, as he called it, round and round, and tucked the canister in at the neck of his frock and buttoned it. Dick had no end of a job, as you know, to get him undone." "Yes," I said thoughtfully, "I know that; but a man couldn't hang by his hair." Tom Jecks laughed softly. "Oh yes, he could, sir. There's no knowing how little a man can hang by when he's obliged. Why, ain't you heard how we men hangs on to the yards when we're aloft?" "Oh yes, I've heard," I said; "by your eyelids." "That's it, sir," he said, with a dry grin; "and that's harder than a man hanging on by his hair." Ching was still sleeping heavily, and our conversation did not disturb him, and after a few moments' thought I said-- "But I don't feel at all sure why he did not hail the boats when they were going off." "Oh, I do, sir," replied Tom Jecks. "I wouldn't ha' thought it possible, but the poor fellow was regularly scared, and wouldn't speak at first, because he thought that if he was hoisted on board the first thing we would do would be to go for his tail." "Yes," I said, "that sounds likely; but he did hail after all." "And enough to make him, sir; poor chap. Do you know why?" "Well, not exactly," I said. "A'cause the first fright had gone, and the bigger one had come. At first he was all in a squirm about losing his tail, but after a bit he got wacken up to the fact that if he didn't get took aboard he'd precious soon lose his life." CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT. CHING HAS A NOTE. I suppose that Mr Reardon thought better of his threat, or probably he came to the conclusion that the expectation of punishment would prove as effective as the punishment itself. At all events nothing was said, and the routine of the ship went on as usual. The decks were scrubbed, the guns polished, and the marines drilled, till, as Barkins said, they could walk up to the top of a ladder and down the other side without touching. The Jacks, too, had their gun drill and sword exercise, till their cutlasses flashed about with an exactness that promised to shave a head without cutting off an ear--promised: the performance might have been another thing. As soon as I had an opportunity I started to go below and see Ching, but before I was half-way there I ran against Smith. "Where are you going in such a hurry?" "To see how Ching's getting on." "Did you put on a clean shirt?" "No," I said innocently. "I can't stand one every day." "Oh, come, this won't do!" cried Smith. "Here, hi, Barkins!" "What's the row?" said our messmate, coming up. "Row enough. Look here, this won't do. The Gnat's going below to see His Excellency Ching Baron fancee shop, and Knight of the Tow-chang, without putting on a clean shirt." "Go and report him to the captain. Why, worse and worse, he hasn't shaved!" "No, that he hasn't." "Well, I haven't got any razors like you fellows have," I retorted. "I say, Tanner, have you stropped yours up lately? Smithy's are getting rusty with the sea air." "You're getting rusty with the sea air," grumbled Smith, who was very proud of the possession of a pair of razors with Sunday and Monday etched on the blades. He had once or twice shown them to me, saying that they were a present from his father, who was going to leave him the other five, which completed the days of the week, in his will. I remember how I offended him at the time by saying-- "Well, that will be quite as soon as you want them." "Look here," said Smith rather haughtily, after a look at Barkins; "we've been talking this business over, and it is time it was stopped." "What do you mean?" I said. "Oh, you know well enough. You came on board the _Teaser_ to take your place as an officer and a gentleman, and we your seniors received you in a gentlemanly way." "Yes, you were right enough," I said. "A bit cocky and bounceable at first, till you found that I wouldn't stand it, and then you were both civil." "Well, I _am_ blessed!" cried Barkins, blowing out his cheeks and looking down at me. "Of all the impudent little cockboats of boys you are about the most cheeky. Pretty strong turn that for a Gnat, Smithy." "Yes; we shall have to put him down, and the sooner the better. Will you speak to him, or shall I?" "Oh, I'm just in the humour for it," said Barkins; "so I'll give him his dose at once. Look here, young fellow: as aforesaid, when you interrupted, we received you as gentlemen should, and have taken great care of you, and tried to smooth you down into something like a budding officer." "Thank you," I said humbly; "I'm so grateful." "And so you ought to be, sir. But look here, what in the name of thunder do you mean by forsaking us and taking to bad company?" "Who does?" "Why, you do, sir. Smithy and I talked it over last night, and we both agreed that you're never happy unless you're along with the forecastle Jacks, or sneaking about with old Ching." "Get out!" I said indignantly. "None of your impudence, sir, because that won't do. It's come to this: either you've got to give up low society, or high." "Which is which?" I said. "What?" "I said which is which? Do you mean you two fellows are high society?" "Do you hear this beggar, Smithy?" "Oh yes, I hear him. Isn't it awful to find so much depravity in such a small body? But keep him to it, and make him speak. He has got to choose." "Yes, you've got to choose, Gnat. We can't have a brother officer always associating with the low Chinee." "Do you mean that I oughtn't to go and see the poor fellow now he's below ill?" "Something of the sort: you're not a doctor. Of course he ought to visit the men." "So ought an officer when his men are in trouble." "Yes; but not to make friends of them. It won't do, Gnat, and we've made up our minds not to stand it. That will do now. You have heard what I had to say, and I hope you will profit by it." I burst out into a roar of laughter, for Barkins' assumption of dignity was comic. "What do you mean by that, sir?" he cried in an offended tone. "Second-hand captain's rowing!" I cried. "Why, I heard him say those very words to you." "Hi! stop!" cried Smith, as Barkins turned red with annoyance. "Where are you going, sir?" "Down below to see Ching," I replied coolly; and I descended the companion-ladder to where the man lay. He was looking very yellow and gloomy, but as soon as he caught sight of me his face lit up. "You come along see Ching?" he said in his high voice; and upon my nodding--"Velly glad. Doctor say stop along, velly much, not gettee up to-day." "But you are ever so much better?" "Yes, quite well. Not velly wet now. Captain velly closs Ching tumb' overboard?" "No, he hasn't said anything." "Ching velly glad. You go tell captain something?" "What about?" I said. "Ching get lettee flom fliend." "That's right," I said. "How is he?" "Velly glad you catchee pilate." "Oh, he is, is he?" "Yes, velly muchee glad, and send lettee." "Yes, you said so." "Allee 'bout pilates." He took a piece of paper from somewhere and handed it to me. "You no lead lettee?" I shook my head as I glanced at the queer Chinese characters. "No; what does he say about the pirates?" "Say two muchee big junk in river going to sail, catchee tea-ship, lice-ship, silkee-ship." "Going to sail from here?" I cried. "Yes." "But how does he know?" "Know evelyting. Muchee big man. Wantee catchee more pilate." "But do you mean your friend knows of these junks sailing?" "Yes." "When did you get the letter?" "Chinese coolie bling lettee in flesh-vegetable boat." "What, this morning?" "Yes, bling lettee." "When are the junks going to sail?" "No know. Keepee watchee and catchee." I sat thinking for a few moments, and I made up my mind to go and tell the first lieutenant, but found the Chinaman looking at me smiling the while. "You likee this?" he said, holding out a tiny thin stoppered bottle, covered with Chinese characters. "Like it? No. What for?" "Velly good. Headache: lub lit' dlop here. Toothache: lub lit' dlop there. Got pain anywhere, lub lit' dlop." I took out the stopper and smelt it. "Smell velly good; all nicee." "Why, it smells of peppermint drops," I said carelessly. "Yes, smell beautiful, all peppimint. Velly gleat stlong. Muchee lit' dlop, so." He took the bottle, drew out the stopper, and covered the neck with one finger, turned the vial upside down, and then rubbed the tiny drop of moisture upon his temples, replaced the stopper, and gave it back to me. "Thank you, Ching," I said, placing it in my pocket, but without valuing the gift in the slightest degree. "I'm going now to tell the first lieutenant what you say." "Yes, tell Mr Leardon watchee watchee, killee allee pilate." "Yes," I said; and I hurried away, muttering, "Watchee watchee, killee. What stuff they do talk! Any one would think they were all big babies, who had been taught to speak English by a nurse." As I reached the deck I saw Barkins and Smith standing by the first lieutenant, and he was nodding his head. "Why, they've been telling him about me," I thought as I went aft. "No; they wouldn't be such sneaks." But all doubt was at an end directly, for they came down to meet me, and Smith cried-- "Mr Reardon wants to speak to you directly, Herrick;" while, as I looked up and caught Barkins' eye, he coloured a little, and hurriedly avoided my gaze. "Thank you, tale-bearer," I said to Smith. "Don't you be insolent, sir, unless you wish me to give you a severe thrashing." "With fists?" I said. "Yes, sir, with fists. I suppose the rules of the service will not allow us to use such weapons as officers are accustomed to." "Do you mean officers like you?" I said contemptuously. "Yes, sir; officers like me." "Oh, you mean knives and forks, then," I said carelessly. "I say, Barkins, I didn't think you could have been such a jerry sneak." He turned upon me with an apologetic look, but his lips began to bluster. "What do you mean, sir?" "Oh, nothing; I am not going to quarrel with old Barkins. He wouldn't have done this, if it had not been for Blacksmith." "Go and obey the first lieutenant's orders, sir," said Smith haughtily. "We will talk to you later on." "You go and show Doctor Price your arms and legs," I said contemptuously and spitefully; for, to use a common phrase, my monkey was up. "Fight? With fists? Where are your muscles? Why, I could upset you both with a swab." I hurried aft, and ran up the steps to the quarter-deck in time to encounter the first lieutenant, who was coming from the wheel with an angry look upon his face. CHAPTER TWENTY NINE. A QUEER QUARREL. "I sent a message to you, Mr Herrick," he cried angrily, and I could then guess that he had been coming to see why I had delayed. "I have something to say to you, sir, respecting the company you keep, and the society you affect, which I am given to understand is not that which conduces to good dishipline." "Oh, that's what Mr Smith thinks, sir," I said coolly. "Oh, indeed!" he cried sarcastically. "Yes, sir; he said something about it to me this morning, but he does not know." "Indeed!" he cried, growing black as a thundercloud; "then I am to take it, sir, that you do?" "I hope so, sir; I try to know." "Then you know, sir, possibly why it was that when I sent you a summons I am kept waiting?" "Yes, sir; I was delayed a little--" "Oh, thank you. I am glad to hear that, Mr Herrick. Perhaps you have something else of importance to communicate?" "Yes, sir, very." "Thank you. I am sorry I cannot ask you to sit down." "Don't name it, sir," I said quietly, while he began to breathe very hard. "I was down with Ching the interpreter, sir, this morning--" "Were you really, Mr Herrick?" he said sarcastically. "Dear me, I hope he is much better?" "Yes, sir, he's nearly all right. I was coming to you when I met Mr Barkins, and Smith." I couldn't say Mr Smith, I felt so exasperated against him. "What a curious coincidence, Mr Herrick! If I had known I might have spared myself the trouble of sending." "Yes, sir." "And pray, may I know for what reason I was to be honoured?" "Of course, sir," I said coolly enough, for I was enjoying the way in which he was working himself up for an explosion to fall upon my unfortunate head. "The fact is, sir--" "Oh, it is a fact, is it?" "Yes, sir--Ching has friends ashore." "And wants leave of absence? Are you his envoy?" "Oh no, sir. One of his friends sent him an important letter this morning by the vegetable boat." "Eh? letter?" said Mr Reardon, beginning to grow interested. "Yes, sir. This friend is a kind of a merchant or something; and he has news of two big junks--piratical junks--lying in this very river." "The dickens he has! Here, Herrick, come down to my cabin." He took my arm and marched me quickly to the ladder and down to his cabin. On the way I caught sight of Barkins and Smith watching us, and I gave them a nod. "Now, my lad, sit down," cried Mr Reardon excitedly. "Let's hear." I sat down, and he walked to and fro--two steps and turn. "There's very little more to tell you, sir," I said; "but there are two very large junks assuming to be merchantmen. They are anchored close by here somewhere." "You don't know which two?" "No, sir; but we shall know them by their sailing at once, and I should say by boats coming off to them with extra men directly after." "Yes, that's good, Herrick--very good. But you have no other information about them?" "Only, sir, that they are just off on a cruise, and if we could catch them--" "We will catch them, my lad. But is that all?" "Yes, sir, that's all; I thought it rather big news." "So it is, Herrick--very big news. Just what we wanted. It's time we made another capture. And to Ching has a friend on shore who sent this information?" "Yes, sir." "Not a trap, is it--to get us away?" "Oh no, sir; Ching is as honest as the day." "Humph, yes," said Mr Reardon, with his fingers to his lips. "I think he is, for he seems to have taken to us and to be working hard in our service. But he may have been deceived. He is cunning enough; but so are his countrymen, and they would glory in tricking the man who has taken up with the English. I don't know what to say to it, Herrick." "But suppose we see two big junks setting sail, watch them with a boat, sir, and find that they take others on board, there could be no mistake then." "Oh yes, there could, my boy. We might follow these junks, seize them, and spend a long time in their capture and bringing back into port. Then we should apply to the authorities, and find that we had got into sad trouble, for we had seized two vessels which the occupants could prove were intended for peaceable pursuits. We could not contradict them possibly, and all the time the scoundrels we wanted to take had sailed off upon a piratical expedition, consequent upon our absence. Now, sir, what do you say to that?" I shook my head. "I think Ching ought to know best," I said. "Perhaps so," he replied. "We shall see. Come on now to the captain." He opened the door, and I followed. I had forgotten all about Barkins and Smith for the time, but now all that had passed occurred to my mind, and I felt certain that they would be waiting somewhere to meet me and make sport of the tremendous setting-down which I had had. I was not wrong: they were talking together amidships, just where they could command the companion-way, and as soon as we appeared I saw Smith's features expand into a malicious grin, while Barkins remained perfectly stolid. As we passed to the ladder Smith looked after us wonderingly, and I saw him turn and whisper something, which I felt sure was-- "Taking him to the skipper." For the captain was not in his cabin, but walking up and down the quarter-deck with his hands clasped behind him, and the telescope which had made Mr Reardon so angry under his left arm. As we reached the deck he was going aft, so we followed him, and timed our pace so that when he turned we had only a step or two to take to be facing him. "Yes, Mr Reardon," he said in response to our salute, "anything fresh?" "Yes, sir, something very fresh. Will you listen to what Mr Herrick has to say?" "Certainly," he replied, and he made room for me on his right Mr Reardon placed himself on my right, and as I narrated all I had said before as nearly as I could, they marched me up and down between them, from the binnacle to the end of the quarter-deck, turned and marched me back again. As we approached the rail I could see Barkins and Smith watching us with all their eyes, and as we came in sight again they were still watching intently, evidently in the full belief that I was being, as we should have called it, wigged tremendously. And certainly they had some excuse for this idea, for I had been summoned by the first lieutenant, taken into his cabin, talked to, and then marched off to the captain. It almost looked like being dismissed from the ship in their eyes, and now I could see them scanning my features with intense interest for sight of my breaking down. The captain heard me out, and then listened to Mr Reardon's objections. "Yes," he said quietly at last, "that's very true, Mr Reardon, but we must not let an opportunity slip. I was intending to sail to-morrow for the north; now we will sail which way the junks lead. That will do for the present, Mr Herrick, and I thank you for your diligence in Her Majesty's service." I touched my cap and went to the ladder, and as I descended there were my two messmates coming towards me. Trying to make my face as mobile as possible, I stretched it here and there into wrinkles, and was walking straight along the deck looking the image of despair, when they stopped me. "Serve you right!" said Smith exultantly. "There, be off below, and don't let the men all see what a setting-down you have had." I gave each of them a piteous look, turned as they had suggested, and hurried down to our cabin to have a good laugh all to myself. To my surprise, though, they followed me, Barkins to seat himself on the table, and Smith to lean up against the door. "Well, Skeeter," said the latter, "you've had it pretty hot. Serve you right for being sarcy; you'll behave better next time." "I hope so," I said meekly. "Dishy gave you his lecture, then, and walked you off to the skipper, eh?" "Yes," I said. "Well, it's of no use for you to be grumpy. You've had your lesson, and now you've got to behave yourself." "Yes." "And I am very glad to see you are so humble. Aren't you, Tanner?" "Yes," said Barkins gruffly. "You see it won't do for a little gnat of a fellow to think he is going to do what he likes on board one of Her Majesty's ships. It was quite time you were taken down a few pegs--wasn't it, Tanner?" "I suppose so," said Barkins. "Then I don't see that it's any use for us to jump upon him, and show bad blood." "No, not a bit," cried Barkins, with more animation. "We won't." "No, I said we wouldn't; so look here, youngster: we're going to forgive you, if you promise to behave better and do as you're bid. This isn't school, you know, where a boy can set himself up against his elders, but the Queen's service, where every one has his place, and has to keep it too--mind that. There, that's all I've got to say." "And very nicely said too," I replied. He looked at me sharply, but my face was like marble, and he concluded that I had spoken seriously, for he turned to Barkins-- "There, Tanner, I've done; now it's your turn." "What for?" "To give him a few words." "Oh, I don't think I want to say anything," said Barkins slowly. "I'm sorry the poor little beggar got into such a row." "It'll do him good." "I hope so," said Barkins slowly and reluctantly, and there was rather a mournful look in his eyes as he spoke. "You'd better give him a few words of advice," said Smith in an off-hand tone. "Oh no, he's had enough jawing. I shan't say anything." "Thank you, Tanner," I said. "Oh, all right," he cried, and he held out his hand and shook mine, brightening up the next moment, and looking as pleased as if he had just got a great trouble off his mind. "You needn't be in such a jolly hurry to forgive him," said Smith in a remonstrant tone; "he has been a cheeky little beggar, and deserved all he got." "But it isn't nice to be wigged, all the same," said Barkins sharply. "No, but it don't matter if you deserved it. Now then, Gnat, tell us what Dishy said." "What about?" I asked innocently. "What about? Why, your associating with Ching so much." "Oh, that!" I cried. "Oh, that!" he said, mocking my way of speaking. "Why, what did you think I meant?" "I don't know." "Well, what did he say?" "Nothing at all." "What! no lies now." "Who's telling lies? He didn't say a word about it. We had something of more consequence to talk about." "Now, Tanner, hark at that. Did you ever hear such a miserable cheeky little beggar in your life? It's of no use; we must give him a regular good towelling." "Better tell us what the luff said, Gnat," growled Barkins, in so strange an accession of gruffness that I began to laugh. "Why, what's the matter with you?" I said. "Don't gruff and grow hoarse like that." "Can't help it; got a cold, I s'pose," he cried. "But I say, stop it now; we want to be friends. Tell us what the luff said." "Precious little," I replied. "I did all the speaking till we went up on the quarter-deck." "Don't listen to him," cried Smith, growing wroth with me. "I never saw such cheek. One tries to be friends with him, but it's of no use; directly you open your mouth he jumps down your throat." "Then you shouldn't have such a big mouth, Smithy," I said sharply, and then the storm burst. Tanner roared with laughter, for the width of Smith's mouth had often been food for our mirth; and, as Barkins afterwards said, my remark came out so pat. "Look here," cried Smith, "I'm not going to stand this sort of thing. You may be fool enough to put up with it, but I won't." "If you call me a fool I'll punch your head, Smithy," growled Barkins. "No, you won't," was the retort; "and that's the way you take sides against me, and encourage the miserable little beggar in his impudent ways? Now then, you Herrick, you've got to go down on your knees and beg my pardon, and then tell me everything the skipper and the first luff said." "When?" I asked coolly. "When? Why, now, directly," cried Smith fiercely. "Now then, no nonsense," he cried, seizing me by the collar; but I wrested myself away, and in the slight struggle sent him staggering against Barkins. "Now then, keep off me, please," growled Barkins. "Keep off yourself; why don't you get out of the way?" "How was I to know that a blundering idiot was coming up against me?" "It'll tell you when I've done with the Gnat," said Smith angrily; for I had unintentionally hurt his arm. "Now you, Skeeter." "Let him alone," said Barkins gruffly. "When I've done with him," said Smith; "you could have had first go at him if you had liked." "I don't want to hit the little fellow, I'm not overbearing like you are. Let him alone, I say." "I shall let him alone when I choose," retorted Smith fiercely. "I'm not going to let our junior ride roughshod over me, if you're fool enough to." "I shall be fool enough to kick you out of the cabin if you touch him," cried Barkins angrily. "I won't have him bullied; and it was a mean sneaking thing to go telling tales as you did to old Dishy." "Look here," cried Smith, "if any one is a sneak it's you, for harking back and taking the miserable little beggar's side." "Never mind about that; you let him alone." "Oh, I say, Tanner," I said, "don't quarrel with him about me. What he said did no harm. Mr Reardon was as friendly as could be." "That's a cracker," cried Smith sharply. At that moment a marine came to the door. "First lieutenant wants to see Mr Herrick directly." "Yes; where is he?" I said, smiling--purposely, of course. "With the cap'n, sir, on the quarter-deck." "All right; I'll be there directly." The man saluted and marched off, while I followed to the door, where I turned, thrust in my head, and said banteringly-- "Now be good boys and don't fight while I'm gone." _Bang_! A book off the table, flung by Smith, struck the door which I was holding half open, for I saw the missile coming, and dodged it. Then I popped my head in again. "Don't take any notice of him, Tanner," I cried; "he's bilious. Thankye for sticking up for me. Can I say a word for you to the captain?" "Here, get up," cried Smith, with a snarl. "Touch your hat to him. He's promoted; and they'll send poor old Brooke a step lower. All hail, Lieutenant Skeeter!" "All right!" I cried, and I hurried away, leaving Barkins looking as if he could not believe his ears. The next minute I was facing the captain and Mr Reardon. CHAPTER THIRTY. A FRESH START. "Mr Herrick," said the captain, as I saluted, "I have decided that, as you know so much about this business, you shall go with Mr Brooke in one of the boats; but I wish you to observe what I say: the success of our expedition depends a great deal upon secrecy, so do not chatter anything about your mission in the hearing of the men." "No, sir, certainly not," I said, wondering what the mission might be, and whether we were going to cut out the junks. "That's right; you had better take the interpreter with you." "To search for the junks, sir?" "Hush; guard your tongue, sir. You are ostensibly going up the river with Mr Brooke upon a little shooting expedition for wild-fowl, so get rid of your uniform. I daresay we can lend him a gun, Mr Reardon?" "If he'll take care of it, he can have mine, sir," said Mr Reardon. "Then off with you, my lad, and be as observant as you can. Mr Brooke will tell you, I daresay, all about his instructions." I saluted, and darted away in time to see that Smith had been watching me, for he drew back as I approached, and I found him standing by where Barkins sat, looking exceedingly glum. I daresay it was very petty, but Smith had been so malicious, and had so often made himself disagreeable, that I could not help feeling a delicious sensation of triumph as I bustled into the cabin and rushed to my locker, without taking any notice whatever of Smith, while I felt sorry for big burly Barkins, who I felt would not say an unkind word if it were not for Smith's influence. I remember Charles Dickens saying in one of his tales something about it being hard enough to live with any one who had a bad temper in a large house, but to be shut up with the said person in a cart or travelling van was terrible. Of course I am not giving his exact words, only making the allusion to illustrate the fact that it is quite as bad to exist with an ill-tempered person in the small cabin of a vessel at sea. For you may depend upon it there is no better--or worse--way of finding out a companion's peculiarities than that. I acted pettily, but then I was only a boy; and now I am a man, getting on in years, I don't know that I am much better. But it was very comic all the same to see those two fellows try to ignore my proceedings, poor old Barkins following Blacksmith's lead once more. They did not want to know what I was going to do--not a bit. And I laughed to myself as I hurriedly kicked off my shoes and put on a pair of strong boots, carefully took off my uniform jacket and replaced it by a thin tweed Norfolk, after which I extricated a pith helmet from its box, having to turn it upside down, for it was full of odds and ends. Smith had taken up a book and pretended to read, while Barkins sat back on a locker with his hands in his pockets, and his lips thrust out and screwed as if he were whistling, but no sound came, and he stared hard at the bulkhead facing him. But try how he would he could not keep his eyes fixed there--they would follow my movements; and twice over I caught Smith peeping round the side of the book with which he was screening his face. I began to whistle as I rapidly made my preparations, and at last Smith could bear it no longer. "What's the idiot dressing himself up for?" he cried contemptuously. That started Barkins, and he burst out with-- "What's up, Gnat? Shore leave?" "Eh! Didn't you know?" I said coolly. "Shooting." "What!" they exclaimed in a breath, and Smith's eyes were more wide open than I had ever seen them. "Shooting," I said coolly. "Brooke and I are going after ducks." "Gammon!" cried Barkins. "Why, you have no gun." "No," I said. "Reardon is going to lend me his double breech-loader, central fire, number twelve." Barkins gave his leg a sharp slap. "We're going up the river; plenty of sport up there among the marshes." "Going to walk?" said Barkins. "Oh no; we're to have a crew and one of the cutters." "Don't you believe him, Barkins, it's all gammon. The little humbug can't deceive me." "All right, call it gammon," I said, stooping to tighten my boot-laces. "Roast duck for dinner, Tanner, to-morrow." Barkins rushed on deck, leaving me with Smith, and the next minute he was back again. "It's all right, Smithy," he cried; "and they're shoving in a basket of prog for the beggars." "What!" yelled Smith. "Do you mean to say that Brooke and this--this-- thing are going off wasting Her Majesty's time shooting?" "Yes; I saw Brooke, and he said it was so." "Then I shall resign. Hang me if I'll stop in a service where such beastly favouritism is shown. Profession for gentlemen's sons, is it? I call it a mockery!" "Oh, don't be so snaggy, Smithums," I said banteringly; "wait till his poor old wing's all right again, and he shall go a shooting too." That was too much. He made a rush at me, but Barkins flung an arm round his waist, and as they struggled together I dodged to the other side of the table and escaped from the cabin, but popped my head in again. "Don't hit him, Tanner," I cried; "he ain't got no friends. Good-bye, old chap, I wish you were coming too." Our eyes met, and I suppose my tone and the look I gave him seemed sincere, for, as he held Smith, his arms tightly round him from behind, and his chin resting upon our messmate's shoulder, he gave me a friendly nod. "All right, old chap," he said; "I hope you'll enjoy yourself." "And I hope the John Teapots 'll get hold of you, you miserable little cad!" cried Smith. "I shan't be there to help you this time." I burst out laughing and ran on deck, to find the men mustered ready, and Mr Brooke standing there in sun helmet and gaiters, looking as unlike a naval officer as he could be. "Oh, there you are, Herrick," he said, giving me a look over. "Yes, that will do." "But the men," I whispered. "Oughtn't they to be armed?" "All right, my lad; plenty of tackle in the boat under the thwarts." "But my gun--I mean Mr Reardon's?" "In the stern-sheets, with plenty of cartridges. Where's Ching?" "I don't--down below, I suppose." "Fetch him up; we're off at once." There was no need, for the interpreter appeared smiling and happy, looking as if he had not passed through such a terrible ordeal a short time before. The captain and Mr Reardon came up then. "Ready, Mr Brooke?" "Yes, sir." "Order the crew into the boat, Mr Reardon." As the men sprang in, the captain came close to us. "You'll keep up the appearance of a sporting expedition, Mr Brooke," he said in a low voice. "I expect you'll find the junks in the river off some village. The rest I must leave to you." "Take them, sir, if I feel pretty certain?" Captain Thwaites knit his brows, and stood as if thinking for a few moments. "No," he said at last; "but that I leave all to your discretion. Don't risk your men, if they are strong. I'm afraid some of these mandarins are mixed up with the piratical expeditions, and share in the plunder, and I am certain that every movement we make is watched. There, off with you; don't let Mr Herrick get hurt. I trust you to do your best." We sprang into the boat, which was lowered down; the falls were unhooked; and as Tom Jecks, who was coxswain, gave us a shove off, the tide, which was running up, bore us right aft; then the oars dropped with a splash, the rudder lines were seized, and away we went up-stream on as glorious a day as ever made a dirty Chinese city look lovely. I looked back, and there were Barkins and Smith leaning over the side watching us, but I hardly noticed them, for something else caught my eye. "Why, they're getting up steam, Mr Brooke!" I said. "Yes, my lad, they're getting up steam, and I hope your information may mean some good active service for us. Here, Ching," he whispered, "you have not told the men anything about our business?" Ching shut his eyes and shook his head solemnly. "Velly muchee keepee mouf shut," he said, with the addition now of a few nods of the head. "Nobody but Ching an' officer know." CHAPTER THIRTY ONE. GETTING WARM. The men were in high glee, and, had they not been checked, would have sent the boat spinning up the river, in their delight to escape from the monotony of harbour-life, and the natural love there is in Englishmen for a bit of sport. "Steady, my lads," said Mr Brooke quietly. "Just give her headway, and back water the moment I speak." I did not hear what one of the men whispered to his messmate, but I saw his face as he leaned forward, and it certainly suggested to me that he said-- "They mean some of the tame ducks to make sure." "No, we do not, my man," said Mr Brooke, and I stared at him in astonishment, that he should have taken the same idea as I had. The man coloured through his tan, and Mr Brooke; said in a low voice to me-- "Our work's cut out, Herrick; how are we to pick out the right two junks from all this crowd?" "I don't know, sir," I said. "But I don't fancy they would be down here where other people might talk about them. I should think they would be up the river." "Well, we must find them, my lad, so use our brains as much as you can, and if you see a junk with a very evil-looking lot aboard, just give me a hint as we pass." "I'll ask Ching what he thinks, sir." Mr Brooke nodded, and I turned to the interpreter, who was squatting in the bottom of the boat right aft, his eyes half shut, and apparently taking no heed of anything. "How are we to know which are the junks we want, Ching?" I said. "Oh, velly soon find," he said. "Ching look along. Not these. Pilate boat big and tall. Empty. No got big calgo aboard. Stand high up now. Velly full and low down when full of plize-money." "Then you don't think they are down here?" He shook his head as he glanced at the various forms of trading-boat moored off the town, from the tiny sampan to the heavy, clumsy mat-sailed vessel, whose stern towered up, and whose great bamboo yards looked as if they must be perfectly unmanageable. "What do you think we had better do, then--row about here and watch?" "No good," he said; "makee men low fast light up liver, findee, pilate junk." "But suppose we pass them?" I said. "No pass pilate boat: Ching here." "And so you think you will know them?" The Chinaman screwed his face up into a curiously comic smile. "Ching know pilate when he see him." "And you think it better to go right up the river?" said Mr Brooke, turning suddenly to join in the conversation. "Yes; pilate junk long way." "How do you know?" He gave a cunning smile at us both, his little eyes twinkling in a singularly sly manner. "You see vegetable boat come along mo'ning?" "Yes, I saw the boat come alongside." "Blought Ching 'nothee lettee, allee same fliend. Say pilate boat long way uppee liver in big cleek, waitee come down along lunning water in the dalk." "Then you pretty well know where they are?" said Mr Brooke. "No; far uppee liver; in cleek." "I suppose this is right?" said Mr Brooke to me. "Yes, quite light. Ching likee see Queen Victolia ship killee catch pilate." "Give way, my men," said Mr Brooke, and the boat shot forward, while, relieved for the moment from the task of scanning the different boats, I sat gazing at the beautiful panorama of quaint houses, narrow streets debouching on the river, and the house-boats all along the edge of the river, while smaller boats were swinging here and there wherever there was room. It was a wonderfully interesting sight, for, in addition to the curious shapes of the buildings, there was plenty of brilliant colour, and every now and then patches of brightest blue and vivid scarlet were heightened by the glistening gilding which ornamented some particular building. Then there were temples dotted about amongst the patches of forest, which fringed the high ground at the back of the city, and away beyond them the steep scarps of rugged and jagged mountains, which stood up looking of so lovely a pinky-blue, that I could for the moment hardly believe they were natural, and was ready to ask whether it was not some wonderful piece of painting. The house-boats took my fancy greatly, for, in endless cases, they were of a variety of bright colours, pretty in shape, and decorated with showy flowers in pots and tubs; some had cages containing brightly-plumaged birds, and in most of them quaint bald-headed little children were playing about or fishing. Higher up we saw men busy with nets which were attached to the end of a great bamboo pole, balanced upon a strong upright post fixed in the river's bottom, and by means of this balanced pole the net was let down into the depths of the river, and hoisted from time to time, sometimes with a few glittering little fish within the meshes, sometimes having nothing but weed. "Yes, catchee fish; catchee velly big fish some time." About ten minutes after, Ching pulled my sleeve and pointed to the other side of the river, where I caught sight of a very familiar old friend sitting in his boat, just as I had seen him in an old picture-book at home. There he sat with a big umbrella-like sunshade fixed up over him on a bamboo pole, in front of him a kind of platform spread across the front of his moored boat, and upon it sat perched eight or nine of my old friends the cormorants, one of which dived into the river from time to time, and soon after emerged and made its way back to the boat with a fish in its beak. "See that, Mr Brooke?" I cried eagerly. "I suppose we can't stop to watch them?" "Not when on Her Majesty's service, Herrick," he said, with a smile, and we glided rapidly on, till the houses, which had long been growing scattered, finally disappeared, and we were following the windings of the river in company with a few small junks and sampans, which seemed bound for one of the cities higher up the great waterway. "Shoot bird now," said Ching, in answer to an inquiring look from Mr Brooke. "Yes; but do you think the junks are up here?" "Oh yes, velly quite su'e. Plenty eye in boat watchee see what Queen Victolia offlicer going to do uppee river." "What does he mean?" said Mr Brooke, who was puzzled by this last rather enigmatical speech. "Of course we have watchful eyes in our boat, but I don't see anything yet worth watching." "He means that very likely there are friends of the pirates in one of these boats, and that we had better begin shooting, so as to take off attention from our real purpose." "Yes, allee same; p'laps pilate fliend in lit' boat go and tell Queen Victolia foleign devil sailor boy come catchee." "Oh, I see," said Mr Brooke. Then, turning to me, "You do understand a little French, don't you?" "Well, sir, I used to learn some at school," I replied, feeling very doubtful about my proficiency. "I daresay you can understand my Stratford-atte-Bow French," said Mr Brooke, laughing. "I'll try, sir," I said; and he said to me directly in excellent French-- "I feel doubtful about this man. You have seen more of him than I have. Do you think he is honest, or leading us into a trap?" "Honest, sir," I said, "I feel certain." "Well, then, we will trust him fully; but if he betrays us, and I can get a last shot--well, then--" "He'll be sorry for it, sir," I said, for Mr Brooke did not finish his remark. "Exactly; get out your gun and put on your cartridge belt." I followed his example, and Ching smiled. "Velly good thing," he said. "Now pilate fliend, see jolly sailor boy, and say--Come killee duck-bird, goose-bird to make nicee dinner, not come catchee catchee pilate." "You hear what this man says, my lads?" said the young lieutenant, addressing the men. "Ay, ay, sir." "Then you understand now that we have not only come up to shoot?" "Ay, ay, sir." "Keep your rifles and cutlasses quite handy in case they are wanted. No confusion, mind, but at the word be ready." Mr Brooke's words seemed to send a thrill through the men, who pulled on now with a more vigorous stroke, while, with our guns charged, and the butts resting on our knees, we gave place to the coxswain, who took the tiller. "We'll go forward, Herrick," said my companion; and he stepped over the thwarts into the coxswain's place, and I sat by him, watching alternately for birds, junks, and creeks, up which the latter might lie. "Begin shootee soon," said Ching rather anxiously. "Why?" "Velly muchee sail boat behind think why we come." "There goes something, Herrick," said Mr Brooke just then, and I looked up and saw a bird flying over the river at a tremendous rate. I raised my piece quickly, fired, and as soon as I was a little clear of the smoke, fired again. "You hit him, sir!" said our stroke-oar. "I see him wag his tail." "It was a miss," I said quietly. "Velly good," whispered Ching. "Allee men in other boat look see;" while I replaced the cartridges in my gun, and looked shoreward, to see that the land was level for miles, and that little flocks of duck or other birds were flying here and there. Soon after a wisp of about a dozen came right over head, and as they approached the men rested upon their oars till Mr Brooke had fired, without result. He looked at me and smiled, while the men pulled again, and we went merrily along, getting a shot now and then, but the result for the game-bag was very meagre indeed, at which I was not surprised on my own account, but I fully expected Mr Brooke to have done some good. And still we went on along the great river, with the country, save for the distant mountains, looking wonderfully English, and making it hard to believe that we were in China. In places where we were close to the shore I could see forms of growth different to our own, but at a little distance the trees, shrubs, and reeds looked much the same as those we should have encountered at home, and I confess to feeling a little disappointed. Then all at once, as if he too were suffering from the same sensation, Mr Brooke spoke. "They will laugh at us when we get back, Herrick," he said, "as far as our birds are concerned, but I am beginning to think that we shall find the pirate junks are somewhere up here." "You think so, sir? Look, a flock coming this way!" "Of pirate junks?" he said drily. "No, sir, ducks." "Give it them, then, my lad--both barrels." I took aim and fired both barrels quickly one after the other, but as I drew trigger I felt that I had done wrong, for I had aimed right in front of the swiftly-flying flock. "Umbrellas up!" shouted one of the men. "Rains geese!" and there was a cheer and a roar of laughter, as one by one five geese fell with a splash in the river, two to lie perfectly still while they were retrieved--the others, poor birds, to make desperate efforts to swim broken-winged away, but to be shot one by one by Mr Brooke, and after a sharp row dragged into the boat. "Velly nicee," said Ching, smiling. "Yes, I must take lessons in shooting from you, Mr Herrick," said the young lieutenant, smiling. "It's my turn next." I felt hot and uncomfortable, for my success seemed to be the result of pure accident, and I said so, but Mr Brooke laughed and shook his head. "Never mind the birds, Herrick," he said; "I feel sure our other game is close by somewhere." "Yes, up cleek somewhere," said Ching. "Why do you say that?" "No pointee--no look. I tell you," said the Chinaman, taking up and pretending to examine the mottled brown wing of the goose he opened out. "Boat come behind, pilate fliend come see which way we go." "Yes, I'm sure you are right," said Mr Brooke, taking up another of the birds; "and if I'm not very much mistaken, that other boat you see ahead has his eye upon us." "Ching not velly sure, p'laps; only see one man look over side thlee times." "There's a bit of a river runs off here, sir, to the right," said one of the men, nodding to his left, where there was an opening in a patch of forest which came down to the river, with fine timber trees overhanging the muddy banks, and their branches every here and there showing dead grass and reeds caked with mud, as if at times this part of the country was deeply flooded. "Yes," said Ching very quietly; "p'laps plenty mud up there. Go see." "And while we are up a side branch of the river, they may come down the main stream and escape." Ching shook his head. "Fliend say pilate junk hide up liver in cleek." "Yes, but--" "Wait lit' bit," said Ching, with a cunning look. "Go up lit' way, shoot birds, and no lit' boat come after, no pilate fliend. If come after, plenty muchee pilate fliend, and junk not vellee far." "He's right, Herrick," said Mr Brooke, nodding. "Turn up the side branch, my lads. Keep up the comedy of the shooting, and have a shot at something." "But there's nothing to shoot at, sir," I said, feeling rather doubtful of the accuracy of Ching's ideas. But as we turned up the narrow branch of the river--a creek not much wider than an English canal, I caught sight of a black-looking bird, which rose from the water and flew away paddling the surface with its feet. I fired and dropped the bird, but it flapped along, and the men cheered and pulled in chase for two or three hundred yards before it was retrieved. "It's a sort of moor-hen," I said, as I looked up from my captive. "One of the pirate's hens, perhaps, Herrick," said Mr Brooke, smiling. "Well, Ching, had we better go on?" "Yes, go 'long," said the Chinaman rather huskily. "Velly good place." We rowed on for another three or four hundred yards, the branch winding a great deal, so that we seemed to be in a succession of lakes, while the trees on either side completely shut us in. "Stream runs very fast," I said. "Yes, velly fast," said Ching. "There, I think we had better turn back now," said Mr Brooke, but Ching smiled in a curious way. "What go turnee back? Pilate fliend both come in cleek after, to see what Queen Victolia jolly sailor boy go to do." "Are you sure?" said Mr Brooke excitedly. "Yes, sir, I see the top of one of their sails," said Tom Jecks. "Then, by George, we are in the right track," cried Mr Brooke, and, as my heart began to beat rapidly, "Give way, my lads," he cried, "give way." CHAPTER THIRTY TWO. A STARTLING. "What are we going to do?" I said, with my heart beating fast. "Afraid?" said Mr Brooke in a whisper. "I don't know, sir--a little," I replied. "We're not going to fight, Herrick. I shall go on and find the junks so as to know them again--take their portraits in our minds--and then go back for help. They can't escape out of the river, and once we know them, our boats can soon follow and bring them to book." The men pulled as if their hearts were in their work, and upon rounding a bend, there, about a quarter of a mile away, lay two large vessels, moored close up to the trees. "We'll keep up the idea that we are shooting," said Mr Brooke. "No, there is no need now. We have kept it up long enough. We must reconnoitre and go back. They will think still that we are a shooting-party, and not know that we are making for them." "Of course not," I said thoughtfully. "How could they know we had heard?" We rowed steadily on for a minute or two, and then Ching said quietly-- "One boat--two boat come behind." We glanced back, and there, sure enough, were the sailing craft, which had been hanging about in front and aft, coming steadily along in our wake. A moment or two later Ching spoke again-- "Look over boat side, see jolly sailor boy." "Never mind those boats," said Mr Brooke impatiently. "Steady, my lads, hold hard now; that's right," he continued, as the oars were held, and checked the boat's progress. "Now, Mr Herrick, take a good look at them. Do you think we should know them again if you saw them coming down the river?" "Yes, sir," I said; "the stern of this one and bows of the other would be unmistakable. I don't think I could make a blunder." "No; almost impossible; pull starboard, back water, port side. Now, we'll just turn and row gently back. I don't see any men on board." "All lie down flat," said Ching sharply. "Plenty men aboard." "Ah, well, it does not matter. I'm not going to run risks by attacking the savages. Lift your gun and look about, Herrick. Let them keep in the same mind." I stood up in the boat at this, and noted how rapidly the tide was running up as Mr Brooke gave the word to pull again. The movement of the boat brought me in full view of the two sampans which had followed us, each with a man and boy aboard; and now, as I looked, I was surprised to see a yellow head raised and begin watching us. Then another; and Ching said quickly--"Lot men in both boats." I don't know how they had stowed themselves, but now, to our intense astonishment, head after head appeared, till Mr Brooke exclaimed-- "Why, the boats are packed full of men." "Yes, and the junks too," I whispered hastily; for their decks, which a few moments before had appeared to be bare, were now crowded. "Trapped, Herrick!" said Mr Brooke through his set teeth. "Is this a trick on the part of Mr Ching?" The men were looking hard at us, and they did not have long to wait. "Arms ready, my lads?" "Ay, ay, sir." "That's right. Now then, lay your backs to it, and row with all your might." "Ay, ay, sir." "What are you going to do?" I said huskily. "Run for it. The junks can't follow against this tide. We must row out into the river. Keep your fire till I give orders. They may not try to stop us. If they do, I shall try and ram one. We have four barrels for the other, without troubling the men." "You don't think it's a false alarm?" "No," he said sternly; "the falsity lies somewhere else." "He means Ching," I said, but there was no time for much thought, not even to see a great deal. The men grasped the situation as soon as the boat's head was straight, and Mr Brooke took the tiller in his left hand, his gun in his right, and cocked it, while I followed suit. Then I felt disposed to laugh as Ching made a dive down, and began to crawl under the thwarts among the men's legs, but the laugh changed to a serious grin as Mr Brooke steered to pass between the two boats, when the course of one was changed so as to throw her right athwart our way, and quite a dozen men rose up in each, armed with clumsy swords, yelling at us, and dancing about as they gesticulated and seemed to be trying to frighten us back. "Very well, if you will have it," said Mr Brooke between his teeth. "Be ready, my lads. Cutlasses, if they try to board." A sound like the exhaustion of a heavy breath escaped from the men, and Mr Brooke roared at them to pull, while I sat with my finger on the first trigger and the gun lowered a little, gazing wildly at the savage crew before us. Those moments were like long minutes, but I could make out that, instead of frightening us, the men in the boat which crossed us were now frightened themselves, and they made an effort to give us room. But there were too many of them--they got in each other's way. Then there was a wild shriek, a crash, and the head of our fast cutter crashed into them, driving their bows round, partly forcing them under water, and the flimsily-built boat began rapidly to fill. The second party held a little aloof, too much startled by the boldness of our manoeuvre to attempt to help their companions, so that we had only the first boat to tackle, as such of the men as could trampled over one another in their struggle to get on board us. But the moment the crash had come our lads sprang up with a cheer, and, forgetting their proper weapons, let go at the enemy with their oars, using them as spears and two-handed swords, and with such effect that in less than a minute the wretches were driven back or beaten into the water, to swim to and cling to their half-sunken boat, whose light bamboos refused to go right down. "Now pull--down with you--pull!" roared Mr Brooke, and, thanks to Mr Reardon's grand "dishipline," every man dropped into his place, and the boat, which had come to a standstill, now began to move forward, while the tide carried the enemy towards their junks, from whence came now as savage a yelling as that from the boats. "Without firing a shot," cried Mr Brooke exultantly. "Pull, boys. Now, a cheer! they can't follow us against this tide." The men sent up a triumphant shout, and, as we swept round the next bend, we lost sight of the junks, and directly after of the two boats, the last I saw of them being that the crew of the second were dragging their companions of the first out of the water, and loading their own down to the gunwale edge. "Now," cried Mr Brooke, "who's hurt?" There was no answer for a moment or two. Then one of the men said, with a grin-- "I arn't drownded, sir; but I shall ketch cold if something arn't done-- my feet's wet." "Yes, so velly wet," cried a plaintive voice, and Ching struggled up from the bottom of the boat, and stood up, showing his blue cotton garments to be drenched with water. "What, have we sprung a leak?" cried Mr Brooke. "Yes, sir," said Tom Jecks, "she's got a hole in her skin here forrard; but if I might be so bold, sir, if you was to send Mr Ching to lean up agin it, we shouldn't hurt much." "Pull--pull steady," cried Mr Brooke. "Here, take the tiller, Mr Herrick." He laid his gun behind us and handed me the rudder, before going right forward to the coxswain, while I sat envying the men their coolness as they sat pulling away nonchalantly enough, though the water was rising fast and nearly covered their bare feet and ankles, while it soon invaded the grating upon which my own boot-covered feet were placed. "Much injured, sir?" I shouted; and Mr Brooke gave me back poor Mercutio's answer to his friend, in _Romeo and Juliet_-- "'Tis not so deep as a well, nor so wide as a church door: but 'tis enough; 'twill serve." "Here, my lads, one of you; I must have a frock." "Right, sir, mine'll do," said the coxswain, unfastening and dragging his white duck garment over his head. This was soaked and wrung out to make it softer, and then thrust into the hole in our bows. "There, you must sit forward here, and plant both feet against it, my lad," said Mr Brooke. "Ay, ay, sir. Men never knows what he may come to. Fancy my toots being used to caulk a leak!" He, laughing, sat down on the forward thwart, and pressed his feet against the jacket. "Now then, a man to bale," cried Mr Brooke, and the coxswain fished the tin baler out of the locker forward. "No; pass it here," continued our leader. "Pull away, my lads, and Mr Herrick and I will take it in turns to bale. We must get out of this narrow creek as soon as we can." "Me balee water out," squeaked Ching, who looked very wet and miserable. "No, thank you," said Mr Brooke coldly. "Beg pardon, sir; I've got nothin' to do but sit here like a himage," said the coxswain; "I can reach down and bale." "Without shifting your feet?" "Yes, sir; look here." The man took the baler, and began to send the water, which still came in but slowly, over the side; while, after satisfying myself that we should not be obliged to run our boat ashore and tramp back to the city, I kept on directing anxious glances backward to see if we were pursued. "We shan't sink, Herrick," said Mr Brooke, returning to my side; while, after glancing at my very serious, and at the young lieutenant's stern countenance, Ching crept forward under the oars to where the coxswain was baling, and, getting a second tin from the locker, he seated himself, tucked his loose things out of the way, and began meekly to toss out the water as fast as he could scoop it up. "That fellow's a traitor," said Mr Brooke to me in a low voice, after a glance back by Ching. "Oh no, I hope not, sir," I said. "I wish I could hope so too, my lad. There's a deal of cunning in his plans, and he tried hard to make it seem that he was all the time working upon our side; but I feel as if he has led us into a trap, and we were very nearly coming to our end in it without a man left to tell the tale." "But why, sir? What object could he have?" "Plunder, for one thing; our boat, and weapons such as they cannot get. Yes, I believe that he is in league with those pirates." "Oh, I can't think it, Mr Brooke," I cried. "He has served us so well." "Yes, to gain his own ends." "But surely he wouldn't do such a base thing for the sake of getting a paltry share in these rifles and cutlasses?" "He would have the satisfaction of seeing us massacred." "But what satisfaction could that be, sir?" I cried. "We have always been his friends." "The Chinese hate the outer barbarians and foreign devils, as they call us, my lad. They are obliged to tolerate our presence, but the common people, as you know well, would feel an intense pleasure in murdering every European they came across." "All the same, sir," I said, "I don't believe poor old Ching would do anything that was against us." "Well, we shall see. But what an escape, my lad! What a trap we were in!" "And how capital to get out of it without having a man hurt." "It's splendid, my lad. The captain will be delighted at that, and forgive me about the boat." "But we had to run away, sir," I said. "Rather strange running away to charge that boat as we did! But don't you take it into your head, my lad, that it is cowardly to retreat at the proper time. It is madness to go throwing away the lives of your men when you can do no good by fighting. It might sound very grand and heroic for us to have fought both those boats, and then tried to capture the junks; but we must have been cut to pieces in the attempt, and what then--" "We should have been able to say that we did not turn tail upon our enemies." "No, we should not, my boy, because there would not have been a soul left to tell the story. There, my lad, don't indulge in romance. He is the best commander who gains victories at the smallest cost of blood to his country.--Ha, at last! how much longer the creek seems coming back than it did going up." "Running against the tide, too," I cried; and the next minute we glided out into the big stream, crossed the river, and settled down to a quiet, steady row on the far side, where the eddy enabled us to make a very fine rate of speed. But our rate did not satisfy Mr Brooke, who kept on looking at his watch as the time went on, and we found that the swift tide had carried us much farther than we thought for. "We shall never get back at this rate," said Mr Brooke, "and it can't be very long before the tide turns, and then those scoundrels will come sailing down, perhaps pass us before we can get to the _Teaser_." "Hardly," I ventured to observe. "Well, no; you are right," he said. "I am too impatient. We have a good start, and must get to the gunboat long before they can." Meanwhile Tom Jecks sat fast, pressing his feet against the jacket placed over the hole, and kept baling, while Ching took his time from him, and used his baler with enough skill to help get rid of a great deal of water, so that the boat was freed to an extent which set aside all danger of our sinking; but with all their efforts they never got beyond a certain point, for the water oozed in pretty constantly through and round the extempore plug. At last, faint with heat and nearly exhausted, we came in sight of the first straggling houses, then they grew more close together, and fields and gardens gave place to the closely-packed habitations. For we had reached the town, though even then we had quite a long row before we could reach the _Teaser_. The final stretch came at last--just about a quarter of a mile to traverse, and then we should be alongside. "Thank goodness!" said Mr Brooke, drawing a deep breath; "I don't know when I have felt so anxious. Now, my lads, only another five minutes--a long pull and a strong pull, and all together." The men cheered and pulled, sending the boat merrily along now, for the tide was close upon its highest point, and for some little time it grew more and more sluggish before the coxswain cried out-- "She's swung round, sir; tide's with us." "Ha!" ejaculated Mr Brooke. "Then we shall get to the _Teaser_ in time. They couldn't start from the creek with those light junks till now." "How much farther is it, sir?" I said, as he stood up and shaded his eyes with his hand. "It can't be many hundred yards," he replied. "It must be just beyond that head where the boats lie so thick. Yes, off that temple there up on the hill." The men gave a cheer, and the boat sped on fast now, feeling the push given by the falling tide, and the short distance that lay between us; and the spot where we had lain at anchor so many days was soon traversed--the latter part in perfect silence, with Mr Brooke standing in the stern-sheets gazing straight ahead, and turning his eyes from side to side of the busy water thoroughfare. "She has shifted her moorings," he said at last. "Has she, sir?" I replied, as I recalled how the furnace fires were going and the _Teaser_ was getting up steam when we started. "Yes; how tiresome!" he muttered. "Just, too, when we want to communicate at once." "But you can see her, sir?" "No, my lad, no," he cried. "How can I see her if she is not here?" "But I thought you said she had shifted her moorings, sir?" "Yes, and gone down the river somewhere. Hang it all, she can't have sailed without us." "They wouldn't do that, sir," I cried, feeling quite startled at the idea of the ship leaving us with our small boat in the midst of strangers. "Why, she must have had news of some other junks, sir, and gone in pursuit, or is it a mistake? We can't have come far enough. No; this is the spot." The men were looking at me inquiringly, just as men accustomed to be led lean on their superiors for orders, even if one of those superiors be a mere boy, while I, acting in precisely the same spirit, looked up to Mr Brooke, and listened excitedly for what he would say next. It seemed to be a long time before he spoke, and then it was between his teeth and with angry vehemence, as he dropped down into his seat. "After all this hard struggle to get back with our news," he muttered, in so low a tone that I only heard his words, while the men sat with their oars balanced gazing forward to see if they could make out the _Teaser's_ funnel and tall spars. "They ought not to have stirred; it's playing at dog and the shadow. Here have we brought the substance, and they are snapping at the reflection." "Mr Brooke!" I said in a whisper. "All right, my boy; don't be down-hearted. It's the fortune of sea life. Here we are, tired, hungry, and hot, with a badly leaking boat, and a far from friendly place to land in and get her repaired." "But they can't have gone far," I said. "I don't know, my lad. Had some news of pirates, perhaps. All I know now is that they've left us in the lurch." CHAPTER THIRTY THREE. AN EXCHANGE. "Now then," said Mr Brooke, after a few minutes' pause, "what's the first thing, Herrick? We can't keep watch for the junks in this boat." "The first thing is to get her mended, sir." "Yes; but how?" "Let's ask Ching." "Ching!" said Mr Brooke angrily. "You wantee Ching?" came in the familiar highly-pitched voice from forward. "You wantee Ching go buy new boatee?" He came hurrying aft, nearly tumbling once; while, left to his own power alone, the coxswain redoubled his efforts to keep down the water, and the tin baler went _scoop scroop, scoop scroop_, and _splash splash_, as he sent the water flying. But the dark, angry expression of Mr Brooke's countenance repelled the Chinaman, and he stopped short and looked from one to the other in a pleading, deprecating way, ending by saying piteously-- "You no wantee Ching?" Mr Brooke shook his head, and our interpreter went back over the thwarts, reseated himself, and began to bale again, with his head bent down very low. "Give way, my lads," said Mr Brooke, bearing hard on the tiller, and the boat began to bear round as he steered for the landing-place a quarter of a mile away. I looked up at him inquiringly, and he nodded at me. "We can't help it, Herrick," he said; "if we stop afloat with the boat in this condition we shall have a serious accident. But we shall lose the junks." "Oh!" I ejaculated, "and after all this trouble. We had been so successful too. Couldn't we repair the boat?" "If we could run into a good boat-builder's we might patch it up, but we can do nothing here." "Couldn't Ching show us a place?" "I can't ask the scoundrel." I winced, for I could not feel that Ching had deceived us, and for a few moments I was silent. Then a thought struck me. "May I ask him, sir?" Mr Brooke was silent for a while, but he spoke at last. "I hate risking his help again, but I am ready to do anything to try and carry out my instructions. We ought to patrol the river here to wait for the junks coming down, and then follow them, even if it is right down to sea. Well, yes; ask him it he can take us to a boat-builder's, where we can get some tarpaulin or lead nailed on." I wasted no time. "Ching!" I cried; and he looked up sadly, but his face brightened directly as he read mine. "You wantee Ching?" "Yes; where is there a boat-builder's where they will mend the boat directly?" "No," he said; "takee velly long time. Boat-builder same slow fellow. No piecee work along. Take boatee out water, mend him to-mollow, next week." "Then what are we to do?" I cried. "We want to watch the junks." "Why no takee other fellow big boatee? Plenty big boatee evelywhere. Get in big sampan junk, pilate man no sabby jolly sailor boy come along. Think other piecee fellow go catch fish." "Here, Mr Brooke," I cried excitedly; "Ching says we had better take one of these boats lying moored out here, and the pirates won't think of it being us. Isn't it capital?" Mr Brooke gazed sharply at us both for a few moments, and then directed the boat's head as if going up the river again. "Where is there a suitable boat?" he said hoarsely, and speaking evidently under great excitement, as he saw a means of saving the chance after all. "Velly nice big boat over 'long there," said Ching, pointing to a native craft about double the size of our cutter, lying moored about a hundred yards from the shore, and evidently without any one in her. "Yes, that will do," cried Mr Brooke. "Anything fits a man who has no clothes. Pull, my lads--give way!" The men dragged at the oars, and I saw that since Ching had left off baling the water was gaining fast, and that if more power was not put on it would not be long before the boat was waterlogged or sunk. In a minute we were alongside the boat, one of a superior class, possibly belonging to some man of consequence, and Mr Brooke had run the cutter along her on the side farthest from the shore, so that our proceedings were not noticed, as we made fast. "Now then, tumble in, my lads," he cried; "take the oars and everything movable. Throw them in, our game and all. Here, Herrick, take both guns." Everything was transferred in a very short time; and this done, Mr Brooke stepped aboard the little junk-like craft, gave his orders, and a line was attached to a grating, the other end to one of the ring-bolts. Then the craft's anchor-line was unfastened, and our painter hitched on to it instead. Next the grating was tossed overboard, with plenty of line to float it as a buoy and show where the boat had sunk, as it was pretty certain to do before long; and we, in our tiny junk, began to glide away with the tide, furnished with a serviceable boat, boasting of sails, even if they were not of a kind our men were accustomed to manage. "Why, it is grand, Herrick!" cried Mr Brooke excitedly. "We shall get them after all." "And all Ching's doing, sir," I said quietly. "Ah, yes, perhaps; he is repentant now he has been found out. But we shall see--" "That he is quite innocent, sir," I said. "I hope so, my lad. Now, let's make sail, and beat about here, to and fro. We must keep a good watch for our two friends, and if they come down we can follow till we see the _Teaser_ in the offing. We may, I say, capture them yet." A sail was hoisted, and in a few minutes we found that the craft went along easily and well, answering to her helm admirably. Her high bulwarks gave plenty of shelter, and would, I saw, well conceal our men, so that we had only to put Ching prominently in sight to pass unnoticed, or as a Chinese fishing or pleasure boat. Just then I turned and found him close behind me, rubbing his hands. "You ask Mr Blooke he likee Ching sit where pilate see him 'gain?" he said. "I am sure he would," I replied. He looked sad again directly, and just touched the sleeve of my Norfolk jacket with the long nail of his forefinger. "Ching velly solly," he said. "What about?" "Mr Blooke think Ching fliends with pilates. Velly shocking; Ching hate pilates dleadfully; hollid men." "Yes, I am sure you do," I said. The Celestial's face lit up again directly, and he rubbed his hands. "Ching velly--" "Yes?" I said, for Mr Brooke called to me from the little cabin contrived for shelter in the after part of the vessel. "Look here," he said, as I joined him, "we can keep below here, and command the river too, without being seen. Why, Herrick, my lad, this is capital; they will never suspect this Chinese boat to be manned by a crew of Her Majesty's Jacks." "Then everything has turned out for the best," I cried eagerly. "Humph! that remains to be proved, my lad. We've got to return and face Mr Reardon and the captain, and the first question asked of an officer who has been entrusted with one of Her Majesty's boats, and who returns without it, is--What have you done with the boat or ship? We--yes, you are in the mess, sir--have to go back and say that we have lost it." "Why, the captain owned to Pat that a thing couldn't be lost when you knew where it was." "I don't understand you, my lad," said Mr Brooke. "Don't you remember about the captain's tea-kettle, sir, that Pat dropped overboard? It was not lost, because Pat knew where it was--at the bottom of the sea." "Oh yes, I remember; but I'm afraid Captain Thwaites will not take that excuse." "Why, she has gone down already, sir," I said, as I looked over the side for the boat we had left. "Yes; but I can see the grating floating. The coxswain took his jacket out of the hole." He pointed to the stout piece of woodwork which we had turned into a buoy, but I could not make it out, and I thought it did not much matter, for something else had begun to trouble me a great deal just then, and I waited very anxiously for my officer to make some proposal. But it did not come at once, for Mr Brooke was planning about the watch setting, so as to guard against the junks coming down the river and passing us on their way out to sea. But at last all was to his satisfaction, one man keeping a look-out up the river for the descending junks, the other downward to the mouth for the return of the _Teaser_, whose coming was longed for most intensely. Then, with just a scrap of sail raised, the rest acting as a screen dividing the boat, we tacked about the river, keeping as near as was convenient to the spot where the _Teaser_ had anchored, and at last Mr Brooke said to me, just in the grey of the evening-- "I'm afraid the lads must be getting hungry." "I know one who is, sir," I said, laughing. He smiled. "Well, I have been too busy and anxious to think about eating and drinking," he said; "but I suppose I am very hungry too. Here, my lad, pass that basket along, and serve out the provisions." "You likee Ching serve out plovisions?" Mr Brooke frowned, and the Chinaman shrank away. I noticed too that when the food was served round, the men took each a good lump of salt pork and a couple of biscuits, Ching contented himself with one biscuit, which he took right forward, and there sat, munching slowly, till it was dark and the shore was lit up with thousands of lanterns swinging in shop, house, and on the river boats moored close along by the shore. "Bad for us," said Mr Brooke, as we sat together astern steering, and keeping a sharp look ahead for the expected enemy. "Why?" I asked. "Getting so dark, my lad. We shall be having the junks pass us." "Oh no, sir. Ching is keen-sighted, and all the men are looking out very eagerly." "Ah, well, I hope they will not slip by. They must not, Herrick. There is one advantage in this darkness, though: they will not find us out." The darkness favouring the movement, and so as to save time, ready for any sudden emergency, he ordered the men to buckle on their cutlass-belts and pouches, while the rifles were hid handy. "In case we want to board, Herrick." "Then you mean to board if there is a chance?" I said. "I mean to stop one of those junks from putting to sea, if I can," he replied quietly. "The _Teaser_ having left us, alters our position completely. She has gone off on a false scent, I'm afraid, and we must not lose the substance while they are hunting the shadow." Very little more was said, and as I sat in the darkness I had plenty to think about and picture out, as in imagination I saw our queer-looking boat hooked on to the side of a great high-pooped junk, and Mr Brooke leading the men up the side to the attack upon the fierce desperadoes who would be several times our number. "I don't know what we should do," I remember thinking to myself, "if these people hadn't a wholesome fear of our lads." Then I watched the shore, with its lights looking soft and mellow against the black velvety darkness. Now and then the booming of gongs floated off to us, and the squeaking of a curious kind of pipe; while from the boats close in shore the twangling, twingling sound of the native guitars was very plain--from one in particular, where there was evidently some kind of entertainment, it being lit up with a number of lanterns of grotesque shapes. In addition to the noise--I can't call it music--of the stringed instruments, there came floating to us quite a chorus of singing. Well, I suppose it was meant for singing; but our lads evidently differed, for I heard one man say in a gruff whisper-- "See that there boat, messmate?" "Ay," said another. "I hear it and see it too." "Know what's going on?" "Yes; it's a floating poulterer's shop." "A what?" "A floating poulterer's shop. Can't you hear 'em killing the cats?" This interested me, and I listened intently. "Killing the cats?" said another. "Ay, poor beggars. Lor' a mussy! our cats at home don't know what horrible things is done in foreign lands. They're killing cats for market to-morrer, for roast and biled." "Get out, and don't make higgerant observations, messmate. It's a funeral, and that's the way these here heathens show how sorry they are." "Silence there, my lads," said the lieutenant. "Keep a sharp look-out." "Ay, ay, sir." Just at that moment, as the lit-up boat glided along about a couple of hundred yards from us, where we sailed gently up-stream, there was a faint rustling forward, and Tom Jecks' gruff voice whispered-- "What is it, messmate?" "Ching see big junk." There was a dead silence, and we all strained our eyes to gaze up-stream. "Can't see nought, messmate," was whispered. "Yes; big junk come along." _Plash_! and a creaking, rattling sound came forth out of the darkness. "It is a big junk," said Mr Brooke, with his lips to my ear; "and she has anchored." Then from some distance up the river we saw a very dim lantern sway here and there, some hoarse commands were given, followed by the creaking and groaning of a bamboo yard being lowered, and then all was perfectly still. What strange work it seemed to be out there in the darkness of that foreign river, surrounded by curious sights and sounds, and not knowing but what the next minute we might be engaged in deadly strife with a gang of desperadoes who were perfectly indifferent to human life, and who, could they get the better of us, would feel delight in slaughtering one and all. It was impossible to help feeling a peculiar creepy sensation, and a cold shiver ran through one from time to time. So painful was this silence, that I felt glad when we had sailed up abreast of the great vessel which had dropped anchor in mid-stream, for the inaction was terrible. We sailed right by, went up some little distance, turned and came back on the other side, so near this time that we could dimly make out the heavy masts, the huge, clumsy poop and awkward bows of the vessel lying head to stream. Then we were by her, and as soon as we were some little distance below Mr Brooke spoke-- "Well, my lads, what do you say: is she one of the junks?" "No pilate junk," said Ching decisively, and I saw Mr Brooke make an angry gesture--quite a start. "What do you say, my lads?" "Well, sir, we all seem to think as the Chinee does--as it arn't one of them." "Why?" "Looks biggerer and clumsier, and deeper in the water." "Yes; tlade boat from Hopoa," said Ching softly, as if speaking to himself. "I'm not satisfied," said Mr Brooke. "Go forward, Mr Herrick; your eyes are sharp. We'll sail round her again. All of you have a good look at her rigging." "Ay, ay, sir," whispered the men; and I crept forward among them to where Ching had stationed himself, and once more we began gliding up before the wind, which was sufficiently brisk to enable us to easily master the swift tide. As I leaned over the side, Ching heaved a deep sigh. "What's the matter?" I whispered. "Ching so velly mislable," he whispered back. "Mr Blooke think him velly bad man. Think Ching want to give evelybody to pilate man. Ching velly velly solly." "Hist! look out!" I suppose our whispering had been heard, for just as we were being steered pretty close to the anchored junk, a deep rough voice hailed us something after this fashion, which is as near as I can get to the original-- "Ho hang wong hork ang ang ha?" "Ning toe ing nipy wong ony ing!" cried Ching. "Oh ony ha, how how che oh gu," came from the junk again, and then we were right on ahead. "Well," whispered Mr Brooke, "what does he say? Is it one of the pirate vessels?" "No pilate. Big boat come down hong, sir. Capin fellow want to know if we pilate come chop off head, and say he velly glad we all good man." "Are you quite sure?" said Mr Brooke. I heard Ching give a little laugh. "If pilate," he said, "all be full bad men. Lightee lantern; thlow stink-pot; make noise." "Yes," said Mr Brooke; "this cannot be one of them. Here, hail the man again, and ask him where he is going." "How pang pong won toe me?" cried Ching, and for answer there came two or three grunts. "Yes; what does he say?" "Say he go have big long sleep, 'cause he velly tired." Mr Brooke said no more, but ran the boat down the river some little distance and then began to tack up again, running across from side to side, so as to make sure that the junks did not slip by us in the darkness. But hour after hour glided on, and the lights ashore and on the boats gradually died out, till, with the exception of a few lanterns on vessels at anchor, river and shore were all alike one great expanse of darkness, while we had to go as slowly as possible, literally creeping along, to avoid running into craft moored in the stream. And all this time perfect silence had to be kept, and but for the intense desire to give good account of the junks, the men would soon have been fast asleep. "Do you think they will come down and try to put to sea, Ching?" I said at last, very wearily. "Yes, allee 'flaid Queen Victolia's jolly sailor boy come steam up liver and send boat up cleek, fight and burn junks. Come down velly quick." "Doesn't seem like it," I said, beginning at last to feel so drowsy I could not keep my eyes open. "So velly dark, can't see." "Why, you don't think they will get by us in the darkness?" I said, waking up now with a start at his words, and the bad news they conveyed. "Ching can't tell. So velly dark, plenty junk go by; nobody see if velly quiet. Ching hope not get away. Wantee Mr Brooke catchee both junk, and no think Ching like pilate man." "Here, I must go and have a talk to Mr Brooke," I said; and I crept back to where he sat steering and sweeping the darkness he could not penetrate on either side. "Well, Herrick," he said eagerly. "News?" "Yes, sir; bad news. Ching is afraid that the junks have crept by us in the night." "I have been afraid so for some time, my lad, for the tide must have brought them down long enough ago." He relapsed into silence for a few minutes, and then said quietly-- "You can all take a sleep, my lads; Mr Herrick and I will keep watch." "Thankye, sir, thankye," came in a low murmur, and I went forward to keep a look-out there; but not a man lay down, they all crouched together, chewing their tobacco, waiting; while Ching knelt by the bows, his elbows on the gunwale, his chin resting upon his hands, apparently gazing up the river, but so still that I felt he must be asleep, and at last startled him by asking the question whether he was. "No; too much head busy go sleep. Want findee allee pilate, show Mr Blooke no like pilate. Velly 'flaid all gone." How the rest of that night went by, I can hardly tell. We seemed to be for hours and hours without end tacking to and fro, now going up the river two or three miles, then dropping down with the tide, and always zig-zagging so as to cover as much ground as possible. The night lengthened as if it would never end; but, like all tedious times of the kind, it dragged its weary course by, till, to my utter astonishment, when it did come, a faint light dawned away over the sea beyond the mouth of the river, just when we were about a mile below the city. That pale light gradually broadened, and shed its ghastly chilly beams over the sea, making all look unreal and depressing, and showed the faces of our crew, sitting crouched in the bottom of the boat, silent but quite wide-awake. Then all started as if suddenly electrified, for Ching uttered a low cry, and stood up, pointing right away east. "What is it?" I said. "Two pilate junk." We all saw them at the same time, and with a miserable feeling of despondency, for there was no hiding the fact. The river was wide, and while we were close under one bank they had glided silently down under the other, and were far beyond our reach. CHAPTER THIRTY FOUR. THE UNTRUSTWORTHY AGENT. "Eaten, Herrick," said Mr Brooke in a low voice. "Not yet, sir," I said. I don't know how it was that I said those words. They came to my lips and I uttered them, making Mr Brooke turn round upon me sharply, in the grey light of dawn. "What do you mean by that, boy?" he said. "Mean? I don't--I--that is,"--I stammered; "I wouldn't give up yet, sir." "What would you do? wait for them to come back?" he said bitterly. "No," I cried, gaining courage; "go after them, sir." "And attack and take them with this boat, Herrick?" he said, smiling at me rather contemptuously. "Of course we couldn't do that, sir," I said, "but we might follow and keep them in sight. We should know where they went." "Yes," he said, after a moment's thought; "but we may be away for days, and we must have provisions. What is to be done?" "You likee me buy blead and fish, and plenty good to eat?" said Ching in rather a shrinking way. "Yes," said Mr Brooke, turning upon the Celestial sharply. "Where shall we land you?" "There," said Ching, pointing to the shore about a mile up from where we lay. "But it's going back, and we shall lose sight of the junks, Ching," I said. "Plenty blead there. Ching know the way." "But one moment, Mr Brooke," I said; "are we sure that those are the right junks?" "I feel sure," he said. "What do you say, my lads?" "Ay, ay, sir, them's right," chorussed the men. "Yes, Ching velly sure those pilate junk." "I know one on 'em, sir," said Jecks, "by her great yard. I never see a junk with such a big un afore. Talk about the cut of a jib--I says, look at the cut of her mainsail." "Well, we must have food and water, if we are going out of the mouth of the river," said Mr Brooke, and he turned the boat's head shoreward. "No makee haste," said Ching deprecatingly. "Too soon, evelybody fas' asleep." Mr Brooke gave an impatient stamp on the frail bamboo half-deck, but said no more for a few moments. "We must wait if we are too soon, for it would be madness to go without food and water." He was silent for a time, during which the men watched the distant junks, and as they stood out more and more boldly in the morning light, we compared notes, and made comments upon them, all growing more and more satisfied that these were the two of which we were in search. "Yes, they must be," said Mr Brooke at last, after listening for some time to the men's conversation. "The very fact of their sailing in company is suggestive. Seems odd, though, doesn't it, Herrick?" he half whispered. "What? their getting by us, sir, in the dark?" "No; I mean, after making up my mind that this fellow Ching was a traitor, and that I would have no more to do with him, to find myself forced at every turn to rest upon him for help. Lesson for you, lad." "In what way, sir?" "Not to have too much faith in yourself. I am beginning to hope that I have been deceived about him, but we shall soon have proof." "I feel sure you are misjudging him, sir," I said eagerly. "Yes, with a boy's readiness to trust." "But I feel sure he is honest, sir." "Well, we shall soon see." I looked at him for an explanation, and he smiled. "I am going to give him some money, and send him ashore to buy provisions. If he is dishonest he will not come back." "But he will come back," I said confidently. "We shall see, my lad," he replied; and once more he was silent, after handing the tiller to me, and looking back longingly at the two junks, which were apparently making no way, for the wind was blowing dead now into the mouth of the river. Early as it was, there were people stirring as we approached the landing-place Ching had pointed out, and he nodded with satisfaction. "Allee light," he said, smiling. "Get plenty blead, meat. You fillee big tub with water;" and he pointed to a large rough vessel, and another which was a great earthenware jar. "But where are we to get the water?" I said. "Out o' liver. Plenty water in liver." "We can't drink that peasoup," I said, as I looked over the side in disgust at the yellow solution of mud. "Velly good water. Allee salt gone now. Plenty clear by and by." "We must make the best of it, Herrick," said my companion; and then turning to Ching, he said rather sternly-- "Here are eight dollars: buy as much bread and cooked meat as you can, and get back as quickly as possible, when we set you ashore." Ching nodded and smiled. "Be velly quick," he said; "and you take boat lit' way out, and stop till come back." "Of course; trust us for that, my man." Ten minutes later we ran alongside some rough bamboo piles, to which about half-a-dozen Chinamen hurried, to stand staring at us. But Ching paid no attention to them. He only made a leap from the boat when we were a couple of yards from the platform, landed safely but with tail flying, and his blue cotton garment inflating balloon-like with the wind. Then he walked away among the houses, and one of our men pushed the boat off again, evidently to the intense wonder of the people, who stared hard to see a British sailor managing a native vessel; while two others, in a costume perfectly new to them, sat looking on. Then our men were packed out of sight, some in the little cabin, others hidden at the bottom of the boat, beneath a matting-sail. When we were about a hundred yards from the shore, a clumsy wooden grapnel, to which a heavy stone was bound with a twisted rope of bamboo, was dropped overboard, and then we lay in the swift tide, with the boat tugging at the line as if eager to be off on the chase the stern necessity concerning food kept us from carrying on at once. "How these people do seem to detest us, Herrick!" said Mr Brooke, after we had been waiting patiently for about a quarter of an hour, impatiently another, but not quite in idleness, for, after tasting the river water to find that it was very slightly brackish now, the tub and the jar were both filled and left to settle. "Yes, they're not very fond of us," I replied, as I noted how the numbers were increasing, and that now there was a good deal of talking going on, and this was accompanied by gesticulations, we evidently being the objects of their interest. "They can't have much to do." Mr Brooke made no reply, but moment by moment he grew more uneasy, as he alternately scanned the people ashore and the junks in the offing. "Oh," I said at last, "if we could only see the _Teaser_ coming up the river!" "I'd be content, Herrick," said Mr Brooke bitterly, "if we could only see the messenger coming back with our stores." "Yes," I said uneasily, for I had been fidgeting a good deal; "he is a long time." "Yes," said Mr Brooke, looking at me very fixedly, till I avoided his gaze, for I knew he was thinking of my defence of Ching. "Perhaps the bakers' shops are not open," I said at last. "Perhaps this is not London, my lad. It's of no use for you to defend him; I begin to feel sure that he has left us in the lurch." "Oh, wait a little longer, please, Mr Brooke," I cried; and I vainly scanned the increasing crowd upon the platform and shore, and could see, instead of Ching, that the people were growing more and more excited, as they talked together and kept pointing at us. "I shall not wait much longer," said Mr Brooke at last. "He has had plenty of time. Look here, my lads, we have plenty of water, and the business is urgent. You'll have to be content with a drink and a pull at your waistbelts." "All right, sir," said the coxswain; "what's good enough for the orficers is good enough for us. We won't grumble, eh, mates?" There was a low growl here, but not of discontent. "Then in another five minutes, if our Celestial friend does not come back, we shall start. I'll give him that time." "Beg pardon, sir; they're a siggling of us." "Signalling! who are?" "The Chinees, sir." "Yes, look," I said; for, after a good deal of talking and shouting, one man was standing close at the edge of the landing-place, and beckoning to us to come closer in. "Likely," I heard one of our men whisper. "Ducks." "Eh?" said another. "Dill, dill, dill; will yer come and be killed?" "What do they want, Herrick? To inveigle us ashore?" "I know, sir for the reason of their excitement now came to me like a flash, and I wondered that I had not thought of it before." "Well, then. Speak out if you do know, my lad." "That's it, sir. We've got a boat they know, and they think we're stealing it." "Tut, tut, tut. Of course. That explains it. Very sorry, my friends, but we cannot spare it yet. You shall have her back and be paid for the use of it, when we've done with her." The shouts, gesticulations, and general excitement increased, two men now beckoning imperiously, and it was evident that they were ordering us to come to the landing-place at once. "No, my friends," said Mr Brooke, "we are not coming ashore. We know your gentle nature too well. But Ching is not coming, Herrick, so we'll heave up the grapnel and be off." The crowd was now dense, and the excitement still increasing, but the moment they saw our coxswain, in obedience to an order given by Mr Brooke--in spite of an appealing look, and a request for another ten minutes--begin to haul up the rough grapnel, the noise ashore was hushed, and the gesticulations ceased. "Five minutes more, Mr Brooke," I whispered; "I feel sure that Ching will come." "Silence, sir," he said coldly. "It is only what I expected. The man knows he is found out." By this time the boat was hauled up over the grapnel, and I shrank away in despair, feeling bitterly disappointed at Ching's non-appearance, but full of confidence in him--faith the stronger for an intense desire to make up to the man for misjudging him before. Then the grapnel was out of the mud, and hauled over the side; the boat began to yield to the tide; and Mr Brooke stepped to the mast himself, being unwilling to call the men in the cabin into the people's sight. "Come and take a hand at the rope here, coxswain," said Mr Brooke. "Mr Herrick, take the tiller." But at the first grasp of our intention, as they saw the preparation for hoisting the sail, there was a fierce yell from the shore, and the people scattered to right and left. "What does that mean?" I said to myself. But the next instant I knew, for they were making for different boats, into which they jumped, and rapidly began to unmoor. "Humph! time we were off," said Mr Brooke. "Hoist away, man, I cannot do it alone." "I am a-hysting, sir, but the tackle's got foul somehow. It's this here rough rope. The yard won't move." "Tut tut--try, man, try." "All right, sir, I'll swarm up the the mast, and set it free." "But there is no time, my man. Haul--haul." The man did haul, but it was like pulling at a fixed rope, and the sail obstinately refused to move, while to my horror there were no less than six boats pushing off, and I foresaw capture, a Chinese prison, and severe punishment--if we could not get help--for stealing a boat. "All hands on deck," cried Mr Brooke, making use of the familiar aboard-ship order, and just as the first two boats were coming rapidly on, and were within a dozen yards, our Jacks sprang up armed and ready. The effect was magical. Evidently taken by surprise, the Chinamen stopped short, and the boats all went on drifting slowly down the stream. But at the end of a minute, as we made no attack, but all stood awaiting orders, they recovered their confidence, uttered a shout to encourage one another, and came on. "I don't want to injure them," Mr Brooke muttered, but he was forced to act. "Give them the butts of your pieces, my lads, if they try to lay hold of the boat. Mind, they must be kept off." He had no time to say more, but seized the fowling-piece as the first boat was rowed alongside, and amidst a fierce burst of objurgations, in a tongue we could not understand, a couple of men seized the gunwale of the boat, while two more jumped aboard. The men who caught hold let go again directly, for the butts of the men's rifles and the gunwale were both hard for fingers, and the Chinese yelled, and the two who leaped aboard shrieked as they were seized and shot out of the boat again. But by this time another craft of about our own size had come alongside, and was hanging on to us, while four more were trying to get in, and others were pushing off from the shore. We were being surrounded; and, enraged by our resistance, while gaining courage from their numbers and from the fact that we made no use of cutlass or rifle, they now made desperate efforts to get aboard. Our men were getting desperate too, and in another minute there must have been deplorable bloodshed, the more to be regretted as it would have been between our sailors and a friendly power, when Jecks, after knocking a Chinaman back into his own boat with his fist, stooped and picked up the boat-hook we had brought on board from our now sunken cutter. With this he did wonders, using it like a cue, Barkins afterwards said, when I described the struggle, and playing billiards with Chinese heads. But, be that as it may, he drove back at least a dozen men, and then attacked one of the boats, driving the pole right through the thin planking and sending the water rushing in. But we were still in imminent danger of being taken prisoners, and, as he afterwards told me, Mr Brooke was thinking seriously of sending a charge of small-shot scattering amongst the crowd, when two of our lads seized the sheet and began to try and hoist the matting-sail, and to my intense delight I saw it begin to go up as easily as could be. I flew to the tiller, but found a big Chinaman before me, and in an instant he had me by the collar and was tugging me over the side. But I clung to it, felt a jerk as there was a loud rap, and, thanks to Tom Jecks, the man rolled over into the water, and began to swim. "Now for it, my lads," shouted Mr Brooke. "All together; over with them!" The men cheered and struck down with the butts of their rifles, the boat-hook was wielded fiercely, and half-a-dozen of our assailants were driven out of the boat, but not into the others, for they fell with splash after splash into the river. For our vessel careened over as the sail caught the full pressure of the wind, and then made quite a bound from the little craft by which she was surrounded. Then a cheer arose, for we knew we could laugh at our enemies, who were being rapidly left behind; and, while some dragged their swimming companions into their boats, the others set up a savage yelling; gesticulating, and no doubt telling us how, if they caught us, they would tear us into little bits. "Well done, my lads," cried Mr Brooke. "Splendid, splendid. Couldn't have been better. Excellent, Mr Herrick; ease her a little, ease her. We must have a reef in that sail. All left behind, then; no pursuit?" and he looked astern as our boat rushed through the water, and then he frowned, for one of the men said-- "Yes, sir; here's one on 'em from the shore coming arter us full sail, and she's going as fast as we." And once more, as I looked behind me, holding on the while by the tiller, I seemed to see the inside of a Chinese prison after we had been pretty well stoned to death; for it was a good-sized boat that was gliding after us at a rapid rate, and threatening to overtake us before long. CHAPTER THIRTY FIVE. MR. BROOKE'S ERROR. "I did not see either of those craft with sails," I said to Tom Jecks, as we stood watching the following boat, which was evidently making every possible effort to come up with us. "No, sir, 'twarn't neither o' them. I see 'em put off from a bit higher up," said Jecks. "My hye! they are in a hurry, sir. You'd better tell Mr Brooke he must shake out a reef instead o' taking one up." "No; leave it to him, he doesn't like interference." "No, sir, orficers don't, and it is their natur' to. But I say, sir, what a--_murder_!--what a wrench I give my shoulder." "How?" "Hitting one o' them pudding-headed Teapots, sir. Didn't hurt my knuckles, because his head was soft. Just like punching a bladder o' lard, but the weight on him wrenched the jynte." "Wait till we get on board," I said, "and Mr Price will soon put you right." "Bah! not him, sir," said the man scornfully. "I shouldn't think o' going to a doctor for nothing less than losing my head. It'll soon get right. Exercise is the thing, sir, for a hurt o' that sort. You and Mr Brooke give us a good job at them pirates out yonder, and I shall forget all about my shoulder." "We'll try," I said laughingly. "But what were you going to say just now?" "I, sir? nothin', sir." "Oh yes; when you broke off." "I broke off, sir?" "Yes." "To be sure. Yes, sir, I was going to say what a lesson it is for you, sir, as a young orficer, not to go pickling and stealing other folkses' boats. This here all comes o' taking boats as don't belong to you." "Better than sitting in another till she sinks, Tom Jecks." "Not so honest, sir." "Rubbish! We haven't stolen the boat; only borrowed it." "Ah, that's what them heathens don't understand, sir; and I don't know as I blames 'em, for it is rather hard for 'em to take hold on. S'pose, sir, as you was in London town, and a chap was to take your dymon' ring--" "Haven't got one, Tom Jecks." "Well, s'pose you had one, and he took it and sailed away as hard as he could go, sir. It wouldn't be very easy for you to tell whether he'd stole it or borrowed it, eh, sir?" "Oh, bother I don't ask riddles now, we're so busy. Here: over we go." "Lie to the windward, all of you," shouted Mr Brooke, who was now at the tiller. "More aft there; that's better." For the boat had careened over to so great an extent that she had taken in a little water, and I felt that we were about to be capsized. But she rose again and skimmed along rapidly for the mouth of the river, and I crept close to my officer again. "Shall I take the tiller, sir?" I said. "No, Herrick, I'll keep it for the present. I want to get all I can out of the boat, and keep up as much sail as possible without capsizing. It's wonderful what these clumsy things can do." "Yes, sir, we're going pretty fast, but I'm afraid the one behind goes faster." "She does, my lad, for her crew know exactly how to manage. I don't want any more fighting if I can help it, but if they do overtake us I think we can soon send them back again. Men seem much hurt? Do they complain?" he whispered. "Only about bruises, sir. They seem to treat it as so much fun. I say, how that boat does sail!" "Yes, and we can do no more here but keep steadily on. Yes, we can. Take a pull at that sheet, my lads, and flatten out the sail a bit." "Ay, ay, sir;" and the sail was hauled a foot higher, and the sheet tightened, with the effect that we raced along with the water parting like a broad arrow before our prow, so that we seemed to be sailing along in quite a trough, and at times I wondered that we were not swamped. But it was very exciting, and, like the others, I forgot all about a few contusions in the intense interest of the chase. I went forward again to where Tom Jecks sat on the port gunwale, which was formed of one bamboo carefully lashed on with strips of the same material, and as there was nothing else to do, I shaded my eyes from the nearly level rays of sunlight, and had a good look at the distant junks. "Yes, sir, that's them, sure enough," said the coxswain. "Wish we was twice as many, and had a good-sized gun in the bows." "Why, it would kick the boat all to pieces, or sink her," I said. "Oh, that wouldn't matter, sir." "But it's some one else's boat that we've borrowed," I said, with a laugh. "Ay, so it is; I forgot, sir. But we ain't got a gun, and I'm afraid we can't take them two junks alone." "So am I, Tom Jecks," I said; "but we can follow them." "Arter we've had another naval engagement, sir. I say, look astern; I do like the impidence of these here savages, chasing on us like this, and they're gaining on us fast." "No; only just holding their own." "Gaining, sir." "No." "Yes, sir." I took a long look back at the boat, and counted the black caps and flattened limpet-shaped straw hats of the blue-jacketed men on board. "Seven of 'em," I said half aloud. "Eight, sir; I counted 'em twice. One on 'em is a-lying down now, but he was a-setting up a little while ago. Afraid we shall open fire, I expect." "And that's what we shall have to do," I said. "A rifle bullet or two sent over their heads would make them give up." "But they arn't pirates, sir, and you mustn't fire at 'em. Look at that now." The pursuing boat was about two hundred yards behind us, and one of the Chinamen now stood up in the bows, holding on by a stay, waving his straw hat and gesticulating furiously. "All right, Mr Shing po Num, or whatever your name is," said the coxswain in a low voice, "can't stop this time, we're in a hurry." The man kept on gesticulating. "Can't you hear what I say?" continued Jecks in a whisper. "We're in a hurry. Say, sir, that's the chap as belongs to our boat--I mean his boat, and he's getting wilder and wilder now to see us carry it off. Say, sir, arn't it a bit--what you may call it--to take it away?" "A bit what?" "Well, sir, what do you grand folks call it when some one does what we're a-doing on?" "Unkind." "No, sir; it arn't an un-anything." "Cruel?" "No, sir. Cause you see a boat arn't a beast." "Oh, I don't know what you mean," I said impatiently. "Yes, it is an un-something; I forgot, sir. I meant undignified--that's the word." "He shall have his boat when we've done with it, and be paid for it too," I said. "English officers don't do undignified things." "But it strikes me, sir, as there won't be no boat to pay for when the pirates have done with us. If we go alongside, do you know what they'll do?" "Shoot." "No, sir; pitch ballast into us, and sink us, as sure as we're here." "Don't talk so much," I said impatiently. "Why, they've got another sail up, and are coming on faster." "Yes, sir, that's right; and they'll be alongside on us in another ten minutes. Shall I pass the word along to the lads to spit in their fists?" "What?" "I mean, sir, I s'pose it won't be cutlasses but fisties, sir, eh?" "Mr Herrick, you had better come and take the tiller," said Mr Brooke just then. "Don't attend to anything else. Your duty is to keep the boat running; we'll do what fighting there is." "Very well, sir," I said, and I felt disappointed as I took the tiller, but felt better a minute later as I felt how I could sway the racing boat by a touch. "Now, my lads, cutlasses and rifles under the thwarts. You take the oars to these men. Don't attack them, they are ignorant of our power. Only keep them off with a few blows." The men eagerly responded to the words of command, and stood and sat about in the boat, each man armed with a stout, strong ashen blade, a blow from which would have sent any one overboard at once. The chase, with our boat playing the part of hare, was exciting enough before, but it grew far more so now, for the men in the other boat were evidently determined, and two of them stood up with clumsy-looking hooks, and another with a coil of rope ready to lasso us, as it seemed to me. And as I sat there I felt how awkward it would be if the man threw a loop over my head or chest, and dragged me out of the boat. Naturally enough, the thought of this alone was enough to produce in me an intense desire to stand up, instead of crouching down there holding the tiller, and forced into a state of inaction, wherein I was forbidden to move or raise a hand in my defence. "I hope they'll give a thought to me," I said to myself, as I felt that in a very few minutes they would be alongside trying to leap on board, and from my position I knew that I must be in the thick of the fight, perhaps trampled upon, and pretty sure to receive some of the blows which came flying about. I gazed firmly forward, knowing how much depended upon my keeping the boat's head straight, and determined, as I set my teeth, to do my duty as well as possible, but I could not help turning my head from time to time to look back at the pursuers, who began shouting to us, and jabbering in their own tongue, as they were evidently now at the highest pitch of excitement. Not many yards behind now, and gradually lessening the distance. All was ready on board, and I saw Mr Brooke looking stern, and the men as they grasped their oars grinning at one another, and then looking aft at the enemy. And as we raced, the water foaming behind, the bamboo mast creaking and bending, the mat-sail cracking and making curious noises as the wind hissed through the thick stuff, the trough we ploughed through the water seemed deeper, and my temples throbbed and my heart beat, while from time to time the water lipped over the bows, but not enough to warrant any change of course. And nearer and nearer the enemy came, their boat literally skimming over the water, six feet to our five, and I felt that the time had arrived. One more quick glance over my shoulder at the eager faces of the Chinamen as they uttered a loud shout, another at the men ready for action; another over my left shoulder to see that the enemy was close upon us, and then I uttered a strange cry, and, bearing hard upon the tiller, threw the boat right up into the wind, the sail easing as we formed a curve in the water, our speed checked, and then we lay nose to wind, with the boat seeming to quiver and pant after her heavy run. "Are you mad?" roared Mr Brooke, rushing at me, thrusting me aside so that I went down upon my back, and he was about to seize the tiller, when I shouted out, half-choking with laughter, panting too with triumphant delight-- "Don't, don't, don't! Can't you see--it is Ching!" CHAPTER THIRTY SIX. REST AND REFRESHMENT. Ching it was, and the men sent up a cheer as out pursuers grappled the side of our boat, held on, and our messenger came on board smiling. "Velly muchee big job you catchee," he said. "Why, what fo' you lun along so fast?" "Why, Ching," cried Mr Brooke, "what does this mean?" "No get away. Muchee velly bad man. No get to boat. Allee fightee. Get 'nother boat, and come along." "You couldn't get on board us again?" "No; too many velly bad men. Plenty blead; plenty fish; plenty meat. Velly nice. All in boat. Velly long time catchee." Our men laid down the oars with a great deal of care and precision, as if it was important that they should not be a quarter of an inch wrong, and our coxswain doubled himself up to indulge in a good long comfortable chuckle, while I could not help whispering to the young lieutenant-- "I say, Mr Brooke, I wasn't very far wrong?" "No, my lad," he said, with a smile; "I give in. I was all prejudice against the poor fellow, but I was justified in a great deal that I said. Appearances were dead against him. There, I was too hasty." Meanwhile the stores Ching had bought had been transferred to our boat, and he had told us a little about his adventures--how, when he had made his purchases, he had returned to the landing-place and found the crowd gathering, and heard the men declaiming against the foreign devils who had stolen the boat they were using. The people were growing so much excited that he soon found it would be impossible for him to go off with his load to join us, and as soon as he heard the most prominent of the men shouting to us to come ashore, he felt that his first duty was to warn us not to. "Catchee allee. Takee off to plison. In plison velly hard get out again," he said, and then went on to tell us how he felt it would be best to hire a boat to come off to us from higher up the river, but in spite of all his efforts he could not get one and his stores on board till he saw the other boats push off to the attack; and then, when his men willingly tried to overtake us, urged on by promises of good pay, they had been mistaken by us for enemies. "But velly good boat, sail velly fast. You tink it Ching coming?" "No, of course not," I said. "No, not tink it Ching. Send boat 'way now? Ching go?" "No, no," said Mr Brooke eagerly. "You will stop with us." "You no velly closs with Ching now?" "Cross? No; very grateful." "You no tink Ching like velly bad man pilate?" "I think you a very good, faithful fellow," said Mr Brooke, and the Chinaman's face lit up. "Send boat 'way now?" "Stop; I must pay the men." Ching shook his head. "No, Ching pay. Velly clebby pay money. Two dollar pay men." He went back into the other boat, and, producing some money from up his sleeve, he settled with the men, who nodded, smiled, and, as soon as Ching had returned on board, were about to push off, when Mr Brooke stopped them. "Tell them we shall return the boat as soon as we have done with it." "Yes; no go steal boat. Plenty boat in steamy-ship. Tell them capen give dollar, eh?" "Yes, tell them that." "You likee other boat and men?" "Well, I don't know," said Mr Brooke, hesitating, as if he thought some use might be made of such a fast-sailing craft. "Ching askee." He entered into a short conversation with the boatmen, who smiled at first, then scowled, stamped, and gesticulated. Ching nodded and turned to us. "Say, go to big steamy-ship and Queen Victolia jolly sailor, but no to see pilate. 'Flaid cut off head." "Then they must go; send them off." The men laughed, nodded at us in the most friendly manner, then hoisted their sail and went back up the river. Then, provisions being served out, our lads sat eating and chatting, while our boat sped seaward towards where the two junks lay windbound not many miles away, or else waiting for some reason, one which Mr Brooke decided at last to be for reinforcements. "Yes," he said, as I sat munching away at some pleasantly sweet-tasted bread which Ching had brought on board, "depend upon it, we shall see boats or a small junk go out and join them by and by." It is curious how old tunes bring up old scenes. Most people say the same, but at the risk of being considered one who thinks too much of eating, I am going to say that nothing brings up old scenes to my memory more than particular kinds of food. For instance, there is a flat, square kind of gingerbread which we boys used to know as "parliament." I cannot ever see that without thinking of going to school on sunny mornings, and stopping by one particular ditch to bang the wasps with my school-bag, swung round by its string. It was only the seniors who sported a strap for their books; and in those days my legs, from the bottom of my drawers to the top of my white socks, were bare, and my unprotected knees in a state of chip, scale, and scar, from many tumbles on the gravelly path. Then, again, pancakes will bring up going round the stables and cowhouse in search of stray new-laid white eggs, which I bore off, greatly to the disgust of the great black cock, with the yellow saddle-hackles and the tall red serrated comb. Fish naturally bring up the carp in the muddy pond which we used to catch, and gloat over their golden glories; or the brazen small-scaled tench, with all the surroundings at Norwood, where the builder has run riot, and terraces and semi-detached villas--I hope well drained--cover the pool whence we used to drag forth miniature alligators with a worm. I could go on for pages about those recollections, but one more will suffice:--Sweet cakey bread always brings up Mother Crissell, who must have made a nice little independence by selling us boys that sweet cake dotted with currants, some of which were swollen out to an enormous size, and lay in little pits on the top. These currants we used to dig out as _bonnes bouches_ from the dark soft brown, but only to find them transformed into little bubbles of cindery lava, which crunched between the teeth. And so it was that, as I sat sailing along at the mouth of that swift, yellow, muddy Chinese river, munching the sweet cakey bread Ching had brought on board, and gazing from time to time at the geese we had shot and had no means of cooking, memory carried me back to Mother Crissell's shop, and that rather bun-faced old lady, who always wore a blue cotton gown covered with blue spots and of no particular shape, for the amiable old woman never seemed to have any waist. There was the inside of her place, and the old teapot on the chimney-piece, in which she deposited her money and whence she drew forth change. And then, in a moment, I seemed to be back in the great playground; then away on to the common, where we hunted for lizards amongst the furze, and got more pricks than reptiles. I saw, too, the big old horse-chestnuts round by the great square pond where you could never catch any fish, but always tried for them on account of the character it had of holding monsters, especially eels as big and round as your arm. I never knew any one catch a fish in that pond, but we did a deal of anticipation there, and watched the dragon-flies flit to and fro, and heard the rustle of they transparent wings. Splendid ones they were. First of all, there came early in the summer the thin-bodied ones, some of a steely-blue, some dark with clear wings, and with them those with the wings clouded with dark patches. Then came the large, short, flat-bodied, pointed-tailed fellows, some blue, some olive-green. Late in the season, affecting the damp spots of the common among the furze bushes more than the pond, came the largest long-bodied flies, which hawked to and fro over the same ground, and played havoc among their prey. You could hear the school-bell from there--the big one in the turret on the top of the great square brick mansion; and in imagination I saw that pond, and the dragon-flies, lizards, and furze, the shady finger-leaved chestnuts, and even heard that bell, while the sweet cakey bread lasted; and then I was back in the Chinese boat on the Chinese river, for Ching leaned over me with something in rice-paper. "You likee bit piecee flesh meat?" "What is it?" I said, looking hard at the rather tempting brown meat with its white fat. "Velly nice," he said. "Got pep' salt. Velly good." "Yes," I said; "but is it good? I mean something I should like to eat?" "Yes; loast lit' piggee; velly nice." He was quite right--it was; and after I had finished I went forward to see if I could get something to drink. Jecks was inspecting the big earthen vessel with a tin baler, and I appealed to him. "How is the water?" I said. "Well, sir, yer can't say quite well thankye, 'cause it arn't right colour yet, and it's got a sort o' fishing-boat flavour in it, as puts yer in mind o' Yarmouth market at herring time, but it ain't so pea-soupy as it were, and it might be worse. Try a tot, sir?" "Yes," I said; "I'm so thirsty, I must have a drop." He dipped the baler in carefully, and brought it out dripping. "Has anybody else drunk any?" I said. "Oh yes, sir, all on us; and I says to you as I says to them, you shut your eyes, sir, and think you've been eating bloaters, or codfish, or fried sole. Then tip it down quick, and you'll says it's lovely." "Ugh!" I ejaculated, as I looked down into the baler, "why, it looks like a dose of rhubarb." "Well, it do, sir, a little; but you're a spyling of it a deal by looking at it first. You shut your eyes, sir, as I said; me and my mates thought as it's good strong water with a deal o' what some people calls nootriment in it." "None for me, thank you," I said, handing back the tin. "Bring me some water, Mr Herrick, when you've done," said Mr Brooke from where he sat holding the tiller. "Yes, sir," I said; and, holding the baler to my lips, I took a hearty, hasty draught, for it was cool and refreshing to my dry mouth and throat, and, that done, I refilled the baler and took it aft. "Humph! rather muddy, Herrick," said Mr Brooke, smiling; "but one can't carry a filter about at a time like this." He tossed off the water without hesitation, gave one of the men the tin to take back, and then altered the course of the boat a little, so as to hug the shore. "We must not let the pirates suspect that we are following," he said. "What are we going to do, Mr Brooke?" I said. "You should never question your commanding-officer about his strategy," he replied, with a smile; and I was about to apologise, but he went on, "There's only one thing to do, my lad, keep them in sight, and I hope that at any time the _Teaser_ may appear. When she does, she will in all probability run by those junks without suspecting their nature, then we come in and let them know the truth." "But suppose the _Teaser_ does not come into sight?" "Then our task is clear enough. We must hang on to the track of the junks till we see where they go. Depend upon it, they have two or three rendezvous." "Think they have telescopes on board?" I said. "It is extremely doubtful; and if we keep Ching always well in sight, I don't suppose they will notice us. They will take us for a fishing-boat, that's all." By this time the sun was pouring down his beams with scorching violence, and we were glad to give up the tiller to one of the men, and get into the shelter of the cabin, just beyond which we found that Ching was busy at work plucking one of the geese. "Why are you doing that?" I asked. "Velly good to loast." "But we've got no fire." "Go 'shore, make fi', loast all, and come back on board." "Yes, it will be a good addition to our stock of provisions, Herrick," said Mr Brooke, smiling. "Your friend Ching is going to turn out a benefactor after all." CHAPTER THIRTY SEVEN. JACK ASHORE. All was quiet on the junks, not a man being visible as we sailed out of the river and along the south shore of the estuary; and now, after a long examination, Mr Brooke declared that there couldn't be a doubt as to their being the ones we had seen up the branch river when we were in the trap. "The rig is too heavy for ordinary traders, Herrick," he said; and he pointed out several peculiarities which I should not have noticed. Ching had been watching us attentively, and Mr Brooke, who evidently wanted to make up now for his harsh treatment of the interpreter, turned to him quietly-- "Well, what do you say about it, Ching?" The interpreter smiled. "Ching quite su'e," he replied. "Seen velly many pilate come into liver by fancee shop. Ching know d'leckly. Velly big mast, velly big sail, go so velly fast catchee allee ship. You go waitee all dalk, burn all up." "What! set fire to them?" "Yes; velly easy. All asleep, no keepee watch like Queen ship. No light. Cleep velly close up top side, big wind blow; make lit' fire both junk and come away. Allee 'light velly soon, and make big burn." "What! and roast the wretches on board to death?" "Some," said Ching, with a pleasant smile. "Makee squeak, and cly `Oh! oh!' and burn all 'way like fi'wo'k. Look velly nice when it dalk." "How horrid!" I cried. "Not all bu'n up," said Ching; "lot jump ove'board and be dlown." "Ching, you're a cruel wretch," I cried, as Mr Brooke looked at the man in utter disgust. "No; Ching velly glad see pilate bu'n up and dlown. Dleadful bad man, bu'n ship junk, chop off head. Kill hundleds poo' good nicee people. Pilate velly hollid man. Don't want pilate at all." "No, we don't want them at all," said Mr Brooke, who seemed to be studying the Chinaman's utter indifference to the destruction of human life; "there's no room for them in the world, but that's not our way of doing business. Do you understand what I mean?" "Yes, Ching understand, know. Ching can't talk velly quick Inglis, but hear evelyting." "That's right. Well, my good fellow, that wouldn't be English. We kill men in fair fight, or take them prisoners. We couldn't go and burn the wretches up like that." Ching shook his head. "All velly funnee," he said. "Shoot big gun and make big hole in junk; knockee all man into bit; makee big junk sink and allee men dlown." "Yes," said Mr Brooke, wrinkling up his forehead. "Why not make lit' fire and bu'n junk, killee allee same?" "He has me there, Herrick," said Mr Brooke. "Takee plisoner to mandalin. Mandalin man put on heavy chain, kick flow in boat, put in plison, no give to eat, and then choppee off allee head. Makee hurt gleat deal mo'. Velly solly for plisoner. Bette' make big fi' and bu'n allee now." Mr Brooke smiled and looked at me, and I laughed. "We'd better change the subject, Herrick," he said. "I'm afraid there is not much difference in the cruelty of the act." "No, sir," I said, giving one of my ears a rub. "But it is puzzling." "Yes, my lad; and I suppose we should have no hesitation in shelling and burning a pirates' nest." "But we couldn't steal up and set fire to their junks in the dark, sir?" "No, my lad, that wouldn't be ordinary warfare. Well, we had better run into one of these little creeks, and land," he continued, as he turned to inspect the low, swampy shore. "Plenty of hiding-places there, where we can lie and watch the junks, and wait for the _Teaser_ to show." "Velly good place," said Ching, pointing to where there was a patch of low, scrubby woodland, on either side of which stretched out what seemed to be rice fields, extending to the hills which backed the plain. "Plenty wood makee fire--loast goose." I saw a knowing look run round from man to man. "But the pirates would see our fire," I said. "Yes, see fi'; tink allee fish man catch cookee fish." "Yes, you're right, Ching. It will help to disarm any doubts. They will never think the _Teaser's_ men are ashore lighting a fire;" and, altering our course a little, he ran the boat in shore and up a creek, where we landed, made fast the boat under some low scrubby trees, and in a very short time after a couple of men were placed where they could watch the junks and give notice of any movement. The others quickly collected a quantity of drift-wood, and made a good fire, Ching tucking up his sleeves and superintending, while Mr Brooke and I went out on the other side of the little wood, and satisfied ourselves that there was no sign of human habitation on this side of the river, the city lying far away on the other. When we came back, Ching was up to the elbows in shore mud, and we found by him a couple of our geese and a couple of ducks turned into dirt-puddings. In other words, he had cut off their heads, necks, and feet, and then cased them thickly with the soft, unctuous clay from the foot of the bank; and directly we came he raked away some of the burning embers, placed the clay lumps on the earth, and raked back all the glowing ashes before piling more wood over the hissing masses. "Velly soon cook nicee," he said, smiling; and then he went to the waterside to get rid of the clay with which he was besmirched. Mr Brooke walked to the sentinels, and for want of something else to do I stood pitching pieces of drift-wood on to the fire, for the most part shattered fragments of bamboo, many of extraordinary thickness, and all of which blazed readily and sent out a great heat. "Makes a bit of a change, Mr Herrick, sir," said Jecks, as the men off duty lay about smoking their pipes, and watching the fire with eyes full of expectation. "Yes; rather different to being on shipboard, Jecks," I said. "Ay, 'tis, sir. More room to stretch your legs, and no fear o' hitting your head agin a beam or your elber agin a bulkhead. Puts me in mind o' going a-gipsying a long time ago." "`In the days when we went gipsying, a long time ago,'" chorussed the others musically. "Steady there," I said. "Silence." "Beg pardon, sir," said one of the men; and Tom Jecks chuckled. "But it do, sir," he said. "I once had a night on one o' the Suffolk heaths with the gipsies; I was a boy then, and we had hare for supper--two hares, and they was cooked just like that, made into clay balls without skinning on 'em first." "But I thought they always skinned hares," I said, "because the fur was useful." "So it is, sir; but there was gamekeepers in that neighbourhood, and if they'd found the gipsies with those skins, they'd have asked 'em where the hares come from, and that might have been unpleasant." "Poached, eh?" "I didn't ask no questions, sir. And when the hares was done, they rolled the red-hot clay out, gave it a tap, and it cracked from end to end, an' come off like a shell with the skin on it, and leaving the hares all smoking hot. I never ate anything so good before in my life." "Yah! These here geese 'll be a sight better, Tommy," said one of the men. "I want to see 'em done." "And all I'm skeart about," said another, "is that the _Teaser_ 'll come back 'fore we've picked the bones." I walked slowly away to join Mr Brooke, for the men's words set me thinking about the gunboat, and the way in which she had sailed and left us among these people. But I felt that there must have been good cause for it, or Captain Thwaites would never have gone off so suddenly. "Gone in chase of some of the scoundrels," I thought; and then I began to think about Mr Reardon and Barkins and Smith. "Poor old Tanner," I said to myself, "he wouldn't have been so disagreeable if it had not been for old Smith. Tanner felt ashamed of it all the time. But what a game for them to be plotting to get me into difficulties, and then find that I was picked out for this expedition! I wish they were both here." For I felt no animosity about Smith, and as for Tanner I should have felt delighted to have him there to join our picnic dinner. I suppose I had a bad temper, but it never lasted long, and after a quarrel at school it was all over in five minutes, and almost forgotten. I was so deep in thought that I came suddenly upon Mr Brooke, seated near where the men were keeping their look-out. He was carefully scanning the horizon, but looked up at me as I stopped short after nearly kicking against him. "Any sign of the _Teaser_ sir?" I said. "No, Herrick. I've been trying very hard to make her out, but there is no smoke anywhere." "Oh, she'll come, sir, if we wait. What about the junks?" "I haven't seen a man stirring oh board either of them, and they are so quiet that I can't quite make them out." "Couldn't we steal off after dark, sir, and board one of them? If we took them quite by surprise we might do it." "I am going to try, Herrick," he said quietly, "some time after dark. But that only means taking one, the other would escape in the alarm." "Or attack us, sir." "Very possibly; but we should have to chance that." He did not say any more, but sat there scanning the far-spreading sea, dotted with the sails of fishing-boats and small junks. But he had given me plenty to think about, for I was growing learned now in the risks of the warfare we were carrying on, and I could not help wondering what effect it would have upon the men's appetites if they were told of the perilous enterprise in which they would probably be called upon to engage that night. My musings were interrupted by a rustling sound behind me, and, turning sharply, it was to encounter the smooth, smiling countenance of Ching, who came up looking from one to the other as if asking permission to join us. "Well," said Mr Brooke quietly, "is dinner ready?" Ching shook his head, and then said sharply-- "Been thinking 'bout junks, they stop there long time." "Yes; what for? Are they waiting for men?" "P'laps; but Ching think they know 'bout other big junk. Some fliends tell them in the big city. Say to them, big junk load with silk, tea, dollar. Go sail soon. You go wait for junk till she come out. Then you go 'longside, killee evelybody, and take silk, tea, dollar; give me lit' big bit for tellee." "Yes, that's very likely to be the reason they are waiting." "Soon know; see big junk come down liver, and pilates go after long way, then go killee evelybody. Muchee better go set fire both junk to-night." "We shall see," said Mr Brooke quietly. He rose and walked down to the two sentinels. "Keep a sharp look-out, my lads, for any junks which come down the river, as well as for any movements on board those two at anchor. I shall send and relieve you when two men have had their dinner." "Thankye, sir," was the reply; and we walked back, followed by Ching. "That last seems a very likely plan, Herrick," said Mr Brooke. "The scoundrels play into each other's hands; and I daresay, if the truth was known, some of these merchants sell cargoes to traders, and then give notice to the pirates, who plunder the vessels and then sell the stuff again to the merchants at a cheap rate. But there, we must eat, my lad, and our breakfast was very late and very light. We will make a good meal, and then see what the darkness brings forth." We found the men carefully attending to the fire, which was now one bright glow of embers; and very soon Ching announced that dinner was cooked, proceeding directly after to hook out the hard masses of clay, which he rolled over to get rid of the powdery ash, and, after letting them cool a little, he duly cracked them, and a gush of deliciously-scented steam saluted our nostrils. But I have so much to tell that I will not dwell upon our banquet. Let it suffice that I say every one was more than satisfied; and when the meal was over, Ching set to work again coating the rest of our game with clay, and placed them in the embers to cook. "Velly good, velly nicee to-day," he said; "but sun velly hot, night velly hot, big fly come to-mollow, goose not loast, begin to 'mell velly nasty." As darkness fell, the fire was smothered out with sand, there being plenty of heat to finish the cookery; and then, just when I least expected it, Mr Brooke gave the order for the men to go to the boat. He counter-ordered the men directly, and turned to me. "These are pretty contemptible things to worry about, Herrick," he said, "but unless we are well provisioned the men cannot fight. We must wait and take that food with us." Ching was communicated with, and declared the birds done. This announcement was followed by rolling them out, and, after they had cooled a bit, goose and duck were borne down to the boat in their clay shells, and stowed aft, ready for use when wanted. Ten minutes later we were gliding once more through the darkness outward in the direction of the two junks, while my heart beat high in anticipation of my having to play a part in a very rash and dangerous proceeding--at least it seemed to be so to me. CHAPTER THIRTY EIGHT. INFORMATION. It was too dark to make out the junks, but their direction had been well marked, and Mr Brooke took his measures very carefully. "Perfect silence, my lads," he said. "Perhaps the lives of all here depend upon it. Now, the sail half up; Jecks, hold the sheet; the others sit in the bottom of the boat. Every man to have his arms ready for instant use." There was a quick movement, a faint rattle, and then all still. "Good; very prompt, my lads. Mr Herrick, come and take the tiller, and be ready to obey the slightest whispered command." I hurriedly seated myself by him in the darkness, and waited while our leader now turned to the last man to receive his orders. "You, Ching," he said, "will go right forward to keep a good look-out, ready to give a whispered warning of our approach to the junks. Do you know what a whispered warning means?" "Yes; Ching say see junk so lit' voice you can't hear him." The men tittered. "Silence! Yes, you understand. Now go, and be careful. But mind this, if our boat is seen and the pirates hail, you answer them in their own tongue; do you understand?" "Yes; 'peakee Chinee all along." "That will do." Ching crept forward, and we were gliding along over the dark sea before a gentle breeze, which, however, hardly rippled the water. "Keep a bright look-out for the _Teaser_, Jecks. We may see her lights." "Ay, ay, sir." Then on and on in a silence so deep that the gentle rattle and splash of the sea against our bows sounded singularly loud, and I almost felt drowsy at last, but started back into wakefulness on Mr Brooke touching my arm and whispering-- "I reckon that we shall be very near them in another ten minutes. I want to sail round at a little distance." I nodded, but doubted whether he could see me in the intense darkness, for there was not a star to be seen, the sky being covered with low down black clouds, which seemed to be hanging only a short distance above the sea. Right away behind us was a faint glow telling of the whereabouts of the Chinese city, but seaward there was no sign of the _Teaser's_ or any other lights, for it was like sailing away into a dense black wall, and I began to look forward more and more anxiously as I thought of the possibility of our running with a crash right on to the anchored junks. But I was under orders, and waited for my instructions, keeping the light craft as straight on her course as I could contrive, and grasping the tiller with all my strength. All at once there was a faint rustling, and suddenly I felt Ching's soft hand touch my knee, and I could just make out his big round face. "Listen," he said. Mr Brooke's hand was laid on mine, and the tiller pressed sidewise slowly and gently, so that the boat glided round head to wind, and we lay motionless, listening to the dull creak and regular beat of oars a short distance to the north. Then came a faint groan or two of the oars in their locks, but that was all. We could see nothing, hear no other sound, but all the same we could tell that a large boat of some kind was being pulled in the same direction as that which we had taken. "Men going out to the junks," I said to myself, and my heart beat heavily, so that I could feel it go _throb throb_ against my ribs. I knew that was what must be the case, and that the men would be savage, reckless desperadoes, who would have tried to run us down if they had known of our being there. But they were as much in the dark as we, and I could hear them pass on, and I knew that we must have been going in the right direction for the junk. Then I had clear proof, for all at once there was a low, wailing, querulous cry, which sent a chill through me, it sounded so wild and strange. "Only a sea-bird--some kind of gull," I said to myself; and then I knew that it was a hail, for a short way to the southwards a little dull star of light suddenly shone out behind us, for the boat had of course been turned. There was the answer to the signal, and there of course lay the junk, which in another five minutes we should have reached. Mr Brooke pressed my arm, and we all sat listening to the beating of the oars, slow and regular as if the rowers had been a crew of our well-trained Jacks. Then the beat ceased, there was a faint rattling noise, which I know must have been caused by a rope, then a dull grinding sound as of a boat rubbing against the side of a vessel, and lastly a few indescribable sounds which might have been caused by men climbing up into the junk, but of that I could not be sure. Once more silence, and I wondered what next. Mr Brooke's hand upon mine answered my wonderings. He pressed it and the tiller together, the boat's sail filled gently once more, and we resumed our course, but the direction of the boat was changed more to the north-eastward. We were easing off to port so as to get well to the left of the junks, and for some distance we ran like this; then the hand touched mine again, and the rudder was pressed till we were gliding southward again, but we had not gone far when Ching uttered a low warning, and I just had time to shift the helm and send the boat gliding round astern of a large junk, which loomed up above us like ebony, as we were going dead for it, and if we had struck, our fragile bamboo boat would have gone to pieces like so much touchwood, leaving us struggling in the water. "I don't see what good this reconnoitring is doing," I said to myself, as I sat there in the darkness wondering what was to happen next; but sailors on duty are only parts of a machine, and I waited like the rest to be touched or spoken to, and then acted as I was instructed. For from time to time Mr Brooke's hand rested upon mine, and its touch, with its pressure or draw, told me at once the direction in which he wished me to steer; and so it was that, in that intense darkness, we sailed silently round those junks, going nearer and nearer till I knew exactly how they lay and how close together. But all the while I was in a violent perspiration, expecting moment by moment to hear a challenge, or to see the flash of a match, the blaze up of one of the stink-pots the junks would be sure to have on their decks, and then watch it form a curve of hissing light as it was thrown into our boat. But not a sound came from the junks we so closely approached, and at last, with a sensation of intense relief, I felt Mr Brooke's hand rest on mine for some time, keeping the rudder in position for running some distance away with the wind, before the boat was thrown up again full in its eye, and we came to a stand, with the mat-sail swinging idly from side to side. Hardly had we taken this position, when once more from the direction of the river came the low beat of oars. As we listened, they came on and on, passed us, and the sounds ceased as before just where the junks were lying. This time there was no signal and no answering light, the occupants of the boat finding their way almost by instinct, but there was a hail from the junk to our left, and we could distinguish the murmuring of voices for a time, and the creaking of the boat against the side as the fresh comers climbed on board. "Ah, good information, Mr Herrick!" whispered Mr Brooke. "We have seen nothing, but we know that they have received reinforcements, and now in a very short time we shall know whether they are going to sail or wait till morning." "How?" I said. He laughed gently. "Easily enough. They will not sail without getting up their anchors, and we must hear the noise they make." "But I don't quite see what good we are doing," I whispered. "Not see? Suppose we had stopped ashore, we should not have known of these men coming to strengthen the crews, and we should not have known till daylight whether they had sailed or were still at anchor. This last we shall know very soon, and can follow them slowly. Why, if we had waited till morning and found them gone, which way should we have sailed?" "I'm very dense and stupid, sir," I said. "I had not thought of that." "Allee go to s'eep," whispered Ching; "no go 'way to-night." "What's that mean?" said Mr Brooke in a low voice; and I felt his arm across my chest as he pointed away to the left. I looked in that direction, and saw a bright gleam of light from the shore. "Our fire blazing up, sir," said Tom Jecks softly. "Yes, I suppose so," said Mr Brooke thoughtfully; and as we watched the bright light disappeared, but only to appear again, and this was repeated three times. "That can't be our fire," said Mr Brooke. "Fliends on shore tellee pilate what to do," said Ching, with his face close to us. "What do you mean?" said Mr Brooke. "Ching know. Show big lamp. Mean big junk going sail mollow morning, and pilate go long way wait for them." "Why? Couldn't they stay here and wait?" "No; silk-tea-ship see pilate junk waiting for them, and come out lit' way and go back again. 'Flaid to sail away." "Yes, that sounds reasonable," said Mr Brooke thoughtfully. Then all at once there came over the black water a peculiar squeaking, grinding sound, followed by a similar noise of a different pitch. "Pilate not going to s'eep; allee look out for light and go sail away d'leckly." "Yes, we have not wasted our time, Herrick," whispered Mr Brooke. "They're getting up their anchors." "And are we going to follow them, sir?" I said softly. "Yes, my lad; our work has only just begun." CHAPTER THIRTY NINE. TRICKED. They were singularly quiet, these people on board the junks, I suppose from old experience teaching them that noise made might mean at one time discovery and death, at another the alarming of some valuable intended prize. This quietness was remarkable, for as we listened there was the creaking and straining of the rough capstan used, but no shouted orders, no singing in chorus by the men tugging at the bars; all was grim silence and darkness, while we lay-to there, waiting and listening to the various faint sounds, till we heard the rattling of the reed-sails as they were hauled up. Then we knew that the junks were off, for there came to us that peculiar flapping, rattling sound made by the waves against a vessel's planks, and this was particularly loud in the case of a roughly-built Chinese junk. "Are you going to follow them at once?" I said in a whisper. "Yes, till within an hour of daylight," was the reply. "Now, be silent." I knew why Mr Brooke required all his attention to be directed to the task he had on hand--very little reflection was necessary. For it was a difficult task in that black darkness to follow the course of those two junks by sound, and keep doggedly at their heels, so as to make sure they did not escape. And then once more the slow, careful steering was kept up, Mr Brooke's hand guiding mine from time to time, while now for the most part we steered to follow the distant whishing sound made by the wind in the junk's great matting-sails. All at once, when a strange, drowsy feeling was creeping over me, I was startled back into wakefulness by Mr Brooke, who said in an angry whisper-- "Who's that?" I knew why he spoke, for, though half-asleep the moment before, I was conscious of a low, guttural snore. "Can't see, sir," came from one of the men. "Think it's Mr Ching." "No; Ching never makee nose talk when he s'eep," said the Chinaman, and as he spoke the sound rose once more. "Here, hi, messmate, rouse up!" said the man who had before spoken. "Eh? tumble-up? our watch?" growled Tom Jecks. "How many bells is--" "Sit up, Jecks," whispered Mr Brooke angrily. "Next man take the sheet." There was the rustling sound of men changing their places, and I heard the coxswain whispering to the others forward. "No talking," said Mr Brooke; and we glided on again in silence, but not many yards before a light gleamed out in front. "Quick, down at the bottom, all of you! Ching, take the tiller!" We all crouched down; Ching sat up, holding the tiller, and the light ahead gleamed out brightly, showing the sails and hulls of the two great junks only fifty yards away, and each towing a big heavy boat. There were the black silhouettes, too, of figures leaning over the stern, and a voice hailed us in Chinese, uttering hoarse, strange sounds, to which Ching replied in his high squeak. Then the man gave some gruff order, and Ching replied again. The light died out, and there was silence once more. "What did he say?" whispered Mr Brooke. "Say what fo' sail about all in dark?" "Yes, and you?" "Tell him hollid big gleat lie! Say, go catchee fish when it glow light." "Yes." "And pilate say be off, or he come in boat and cuttee off my head." Mr Brooke hesitated for a few moments, and then reached up, took the tiller, and we lay-to again for quite an hour. "Only make them suspicious if we are seen following, Herrick. Let them get well away; I daresay we can pick them up again at daybreak." But all the same he manipulated the boat so as not to be too far away, and arranged matters so well that when at last the dawn began to show in the east, there lay the two junks about six miles away, and nothing but the heavy sails visible from where we stood. We all had an anxious look round for the _Teaser_, but there were no tell-tale wreaths of smoke showing that our vessel was on her way back, and there seemed to be nothing for us to do but slowly follow on along shore, at such a distance from the junks as would not draw attention to the fact of their being followed, till we could catch sight of our own ship and warn our people of the vessels; or, failing that, lie in on the way to warn the junk which Ching believed would sail from the river before long. Mr Brooke reckoned upon our being provisioned for two days, and as soon as it was light he divided the little crew into two watches, one of which, self included, was ordered to lie down at once and have a long sleep. I did not want to lie down then, for the drowsy sensations had all passed away; but of course I obeyed, and, to my surprise, I seemed to find that after closing my eyes for two minutes it was evening; and, upon looking round, there lay the land upon our right, while the two junks were about five miles away, and the boat turned from them. "Have you given up the chase, Mr Brooke?" I said. "Yes, for the present; look yonder." He pointed towards the north-west, and there, some three miles distant, and sailing towards us, was another junk coming down with the wind. "Another pirate?" I cried. "No, my lad; evidently the junk of which Ching told us." "And you are going to warn her of the danger, sir?" "Exactly; we can't attack, so we must scheme another way of saving the sheep from the wolves." As we sailed on we could see that the fresh junk was a fine-looking vessel, apparently heavily laden; and, after partaking of my share of the provisions, which Ching eagerly brought for me out of the little cabin, I sat watching her coming along, with the ruddy orange rays of the setting sun lighting up her sides and rigging, and brightening the showy paint and gilding with which she was decorated, so that they had quite a metallic sheen. "Take a look back now," said Mr Brooke. "What do you make of the pirate junks?" "They seem to be lying-to, sir," I said. "Then they have seen their plunder, and the sooner we give warning the better. She must turn and run back at once, or they will be after and capture her before she can reach port again." Just then I saw him stand up and give a sharp look round, his face wearing rather an anxious expression. "You can't see the _Teaser_, sir?" I said. "No, my lad; I was looking at the weather. I fear it is going to blow a hurricane. The sky looks rather wild." I had been thinking that it looked very beautiful, but I did not say so. Certainly, though, the wind had risen a little, and I noticed that Tom Jecks kept on glowering about him in a very keen way. Just then Mr Brooke shook out the little Union Jack which we had brought from our sinking boat, and held it ready to signal the coming junk, which was now only about a mile away, and came swiftly along, till our leader stood right forward, holding on by a stay, and waved the little flag. "Three cheers for the red, white, and blue!" muttered Tom Jecks. "Look at that now. We in this here little cock-boat just shows our colours, and that theer great bamboo mountain of a thing goes down on her marrow-bones to us, metty-phizickly. See that, Mr Herrick, sir?" "Yes, Tom," I said excitedly; "and it's something to be proud of too." For, in obedience to our signals, I saw one of the many Chinamen on board wave his hands as he seemed to be shouting, and the great vessel slowly and cumbrously rounded to, so that in a few minutes we were able to run close alongside. "Tell them to heave us a rope, Ching," said Mr Brooke, and the interpreter shouted through his hands, with the result that a heavy coil came crashing down, and was caught by Tom Jecks, who was nearly knocked overboard. "We said a rope, not a hawser," growled the man, hauling in the rope. "Better shy a few anchors down too, you bladder-headed lubbers!" "Now, say I want to speak to the captain," said Mr Brooke. A showily-dressed Chinaman leaned over the side of the huge tower of a poop, and smiled down on us. "Are you the captain?" cried Mr Brooke, and Ching interpreted. "Say he the captain," said Ching; "and you please walkee up top sidee big junk." "Yes, it will be better," cried Mr Brooke. "Come with me, Herrick. You too, Ching, of course. There, keep her off a bit, Jecks, or you'll have the boat swamped." He seized the right moment, and began to climb up the junk's side. I followed, and Ching was close at my heels, the clumsy vessel giving plenty of foothold; and we soon stood upon the deck, where some dozen or so Chinese sailors pointed aft to where the captain stood, bowing and smiling. We had a rough set of bamboo steps to mount to the clumsy poop-deck, and there found the captain and half-a-dozen more of his men waiting. "Now, Ching, forward," I said. But he hung back and looked strange. "Don't be so jolly modest," I whispered; "we can't get on without you to interpret." At that moment there came a loud hail from our boat, invisible to us from where we stood, and there was a tremendous splash. "What's the matter?" cried Mr Brooke, making for the side; but in an instant the attitude of the Chinaman changed. One moment the captain was smiling at us smoothly; the next there was an ugly, look in his eyes, as he shouted something to his men, and, thrusting one hand into his long blue coat, he made a quick movement to stop Mr Brooke from going to the side. The various incidents took place so quickly that they almost seemed to be simultaneous. One moment all was peace; the next it was all war, and the warnings I heard came together. "Pilate! pilate!" shouted Ching. "Look out for yourself, my lad! Over with you!" roared Mr Brooke, as I saw him dash at the Chinese captain, and, with his left fist extended, leap at the scoundrel, sending him rolling over on the deck. "Now!" cried Mr Brooke again, "jump!" "Jlump! jlump!" yelled Ching; and with a bound I was on the great carven gangway, just avoiding three men who made a rush for me, and the next moment I had leaped right away from the tower-like stern of the huge junk, and appeared to be going down and down for long enough through the glowing air before striking the water with a heavy splash, and continuing my descent right into the darkness, from which it seemed to me that I should never be able to rise again. At last my head popped out of the dark thundering water, and, blinking my eyes as I struck out, I was saluted with a savage yelling; the water splashed about me, and I heard shots; but for a few moments, as I looked excitedly round, I did not realise that I was being pelted with pieces of chain, and fired at as a mark for bullets. But in those brief moments I saw what I wanted: Mr Brook and Ching safe and swimming towards me, and the boat not many yards behind them, with two of our men at the oars, and the others opening fire upon the people who crowded the side of the junk, and yelled at us and uttered the most savage throats. "This way, Herrick, my lad," panted Mr Brooke, as he reached me. "Ah! did that hit you?" "No, sir, only splashed up the water; I'm all right!" I cried; "the bullet didn't touch." "Swim boat! swim boat!" cried Ching excitedly. But our danger was not from the water but the sharp fire which the Chinese kept up now, fortunately without killing any of us. Then the boat glided between us and the junk, ready hands were outstretched from the side, and I was hauled in by Tom Jecks, who then reached over and grasped Ching by the pigtail. "No, no touchee tow-chang!" roared the poor fellow. "All right; then both hands and in with you." "Lay hold of the sheet, Jecks!" cried Mr Brooke, who sprang over the thwart to the tiller, rammed it down, and the sail began to fill, but only slowly, for the towering junk acted as a lee, and all the time the men yelled, pelted, and fired at us. "Look out, my lads; give it to them now. Make fast the sheet, Jecks, and get your rifle. Ten pounds to the man who brings down the captain!" roared Mr Brooke. "Here, Herrick, my gun!" he cried; and, handing it to him, I seized mine, thrust in two wet cartridges with my wet fingers, and, doubting whether they would go off, I took aim at a man on the poop, who was holding a pot to which another was applying a light. The next minute the pot was in a blaze, and the man raised it above his head to hurl it right upon us, but it dropped straight down into the sea close to the junk, and the man staggered away with his hands to his face, into which he must have received a good deal of the charge of duck-shot with which my piece was charged. Excited by my success, I fired the second barrel at a man who was leaning over the bulwarks, taking aim at us with his great clumsy matchlock, and his shot did not hit any one, for the man dropped his piece overboard and shrank away. As I charged again, I could hear and see that our lads were firing away as rapidly as they could up at the crowded bulwarks, while Tom Jecks was making his piece bear upon the deck of the high poop whenever he could get a shot at the captain; and now, too, Mr Brooke was firing off his small-shot cartridges as rapidly as possible, the salt water not having penetrated the well-wadded powder enclosed in the brass cases. By this time we were fifty yards away from the junk, and gliding more rapidly through the water, which was splashed up about us and the boat hit again and again with a sharp rap by the slugs from the Chinamen's matchlocks. The men were returning the fire with good effect as we more than once saw, and twice over one of the wretches who sought to hurl a blazing pot of fire was brought down. "They can't hurt us now," I thought, as I ceased firing, knowing that my small-shot would be useless at the distance we now were, when I saw a spark of light moving on the poop, and then sat paralysed by horror as I grasped what was going to take place. It was only a moment or two before there was a great flash and a roar, with a puff of sunset-reddened smoke, hiding the poop of the junk; for they had depressed a big swivel gun to make it bear upon us, and then fired, sending quite a storm of shot, stones, and broken pieces of iron crashing through the roof of our little cabin, and tearing a great hole in our sail. "That's done it!" shouted Tom Jecks, giving the stock of his rifle a heavy slap. "You've hit him?" cried Mr Brooke. "Yes, sir; I caught him as he stood by watching the cannon fired." "Yes, that's right," cried Mr Brooke, shading his eyes and gazing hard at the scene on the high poop, where, in the last rays of the setting sun, we could see men holding up their captain, who was distinctive from his gay attire and lacquered hat, which now hung forward as the scoundrel's head drooped upon his breast. "Cease firing!" said Mr Brooke, for we were a hundred yards away now, and rapidly increasing the distance. "We can do no more good. Thank you, Jecks. Now then, who is hurt?" There was no reply. "What, no one?" cried Mr Brooke. "Yes, sir: why don't you speak out, Tom Jecks? You got it, didn't you?" "Well, so did you; but I arn't going to growl." "More arn't I, messmate. It's nothing much, sir." "Let me see," said Mr Brooke, as we sailed steadily away, while the junk still remained stationary; and, after a rapid examination, he plugged and bound a wound in the man's shoulder, and performed a similar operation upon Tom Jeck's hind-leg, as he called it, a bullet or slug having gone right through the calf. I could not help admiring the calm stolidity with which the two men bore what must have been a painful operation, for neither flinched, but sat in turn gazing at his messmate, as much as to say, "That's the way to take it, my lad; look at me." This done, Mr Brooke turned his attention to the wound received by the boat, where the charge from the swivel gun had gone crashing through the top of the cabin and out at the side. It was a gaping wound in the slight planking of the boat, but the shot had torn their way out some distance above the water-line, so that unless very rough weather came on there was no danger, and we had other and more serious business now to take up our attention. For Ching pointed out to us a certain amount of bustle on board the junk, which was explained by a puff of smoke and a roar, as simultaneously the water was ploughed up close to our stern. "Not clever at their gun drill," said Mr Brooke coolly, as he took the helm himself now, and sent the boat dancing along over the waves, so as to keep her endwise to the junk, and present a smaller object for the pirate's aim. "That's bad management under some circumstances, Herrick," he said, smiling. "It's giving an enemy the chance of raking us from stern to stem, but I don't believe they can hit us.--I thought not." He said this smiling, as the water was churned up again by another shot, but several yards away upon our right. Another shot and another followed without result, and by this time we were getting well out of range of the swivel gun, a poor, roughly-made piece, and our distance was being rapidly increased. "Going away!" said Ching, as we saw the great mat-sails of the junk fill. "Or to come in chase--which?" said Mr Brooke quietly. "It does not matter," he added; "we shall soon have darkness again, and I think we shall be too nimble for them then." "Beg pardon, sir," said Tom Jecks. "Yes, what is it? Your wound painful?" "Tidy, sir; but that warn't it. I was only going to say, look yonder." He pointed right away east, and, as we followed his finger with our eyes, they lit upon a sight which would have even made me, inexperienced as I was, think it was time to seek the shelter of some port. And that something unusual was going to happen, I knew directly from Mr Brooke's way of standing up to shelter his eyes, and then, after gazing for some time in one direction, he turned in that of the great Chinese port we had so lately left. CHAPTER FORTY. ANOTHER ENEMY. For as I looked towards the horizon away to the east, a curious lurid glow spread upward half-way to the zenith, and for the moment I thought that in a short time we should see the full-moon come slowly up out of the sea. But a few moments' reflection told me that we were long past the full-moon time, and that it would be the last quarter late on in the night. The sea, too, began to wear a singular aspect, and great frothy clouds were gathering rapidly in the south. And even as I looked there was a peculiar moaning sigh, as if a great wind were passing over us at a great height, though the sea was only just pleasantly rippled, and a gentle breeze was sweeping us rapidly along and away from the great junk, which now seemed hazy and distant, while those we had watched so long were quite out of sight. "Feel cold?" said Mr Brooke quietly. "I ought to have told you to take off and wring out your clothes." "Cold, sir!" I said wonderingly. "I hadn't thought about it; I was so excited." "Yes; we had a narrow escape, my lad. It is a lesson in being careful with these cunning, treacherous wretches. You made sure it was a trader, Ching?" "Ching neve' quite su'e--only think so," was the reply, accompanied by a peculiar questioning look, and followed by a glance over his right shoulder at the sky. "No, I suppose not. I ought to have been more careful. They threw something down at the boat as soon as we had mounted: did they not, Jecks?" "Yes, sir; I see it coming. Great pieces of ballast iron, as it took two on 'em to heave up over the bulwarks. I just had time to give the boat a shove with the hitcher when down it come. Gone through the bottom like paper, if I hadn't. But beg pardon, sir, arn't we going to have a storm?" "Yes," said Mr Brooke quietly; "I am running for the river, if I can make it. If not, for that creek we were in last night. Take the tiller, Mr Herrick," he said, and he went forward. "Going blow wind velly high. Gleat wave and knock houses down," said Ching uneasily. "Yes, my lad; we're going to have what the Jay-pans calls a tycoon." "No, no, Tom Jecks," I said, smiling. "You may laugh, sir, but that's so. I've sailed in these here waters afore and been in one. Had to race afore it with bare poles and holding on to the belaying-pins. Tycoons they call 'em, don't they, Mr Ching?" "Gleat blow storm," said Ching, nodding. "Hullicane." "There you are, sir," said Jecks. "Hurricanes or tycoons." "Typhoons," I said. "Yes, sir, that's it, on'y you pernounces it different to me. Don't make no difference in the strength on 'em," he continued testily, for his wound was evidently painful, "whether you spells it with a kay or a phoo. Why, I seed big vessels arterwards, as had been blowed a quarter of a mile inland, where they could never be got off again." "Yes, I've heard of that sort of thing," I said. "They ride in on a great wave and are left behind." "Lookye here, sir," whispered the coxswain, who seemed to ignore his wound; "I don't want to show no white feathers, nor to holler afore I'm hurt, but if I was you, I should ask Mr Brooke to run straight for the nearest shore--say one o' them islands there, afore the storm comes; you arn't got no idea what one o' them tycoons is like. As for this boat, why, she'll be like a bit o' straw in a gale, and I don't want to go to the bottom until I've seed you made a skipper; and besides, we've got lots more waspses' nests to take, beside polishing off those three junks--that is, if they're left to polish when the storm's done." "Stand up, Mr Herrick," cried the lieutenant. "Look yonder, due north. What do you see?" I held the tiller between my knees as I stood up and gazed in the required direction, but could see nothing for a few minutes in the dusk. "Can't you see?" "Yes, sir, now. Small round black cloud." "Yes, of smoke." "Ay, ay, sir, I see it," said one of the sailors. "Hooray! it's the _Teaser_ with the wind blowing hard astern and carrying the smoke of her funnel right over her and ahead." "The _Teaser_ or some other steamer; and she's running fast for harbour. Let's see: those are the Black Gull Islands to port there. Were you with us when the cutter's crew landed, Jecks?" "Yes, sir; I rowed stroke-oar, sir." "To be sure. The second one from the north had the highest ground." "Yes, sir; but you couldn't land for the surf and the shark-fin rocks, if you remember." "Exactly; and we rowed along the south channel till we found a sheltered sand-cove, where we beached the cutter, and then explored the island. We must make for that channel, and try to reach it before the storm comes down. We could not get half-way to the river, and, thank heaven, the _Teaset_ will soon be in safety." "No, sir, you couldn't make no river to-night." "It will be dark too soon." "Not to-night, sir," said Jecks sturdily. "Yes, man; there will be no moon." "No, sir; but in less nor an hour's time the sea 'll be white as milk, and all of a greeny glow, same as it is some still nights in port. There won't be no difficulty, sir, about seeing." "But you think it will be hard to make the channel?" "I hope not, sir, but I'm afraid so; we can only try." "Yes, we can only try," said Mr Brooke slowly, as he came and sat beside me. "And we must try, Herrick--our best. For this is no night to be out in almost an open boat." "Then you think there is danger, sir?" I said anxiously. "No, Herrick," he replied, smiling; "sailors have no time to think of danger. They have enough to think about without that. We must get in the lee of that island to-night, and it the storm holds back, and the little boat spins along like this, we ought to do it." "And if it doesn't, sir?" "If it doesn't? Ah, well, we shall see. Stand by, two of you, ready to lower that sail at a moment's notice." "Ay, ay, sir," was the ready reply as two of the men changed their places; and just then I looked at Ching, to see that his face was lit up by the reflection of the strange light on our right and behind, which grew more striking, while away before us the land disappeared, and we were gazing at a bank of clouds of an inky black. The effect was very curious: behind us the dull coppery glow becoming fainter minute by minute, as the darkness increased the blackness before us; and one's instinct seemed to warn one to turn from the black darkness to sail away towards the light. Tom Jecks took the same idea, and said, in an irritable whisper, exactly what I thought-- "Seems rum, sir, don't it, sir?--makes believe as that's the best way, when all the time the wussest looking is the safest." Just then, after a glance round, Mr Brooke uttered another warning to the men to be ready, and settled himself down to the tiller. "Sit fast, all of you; the hurricane may be down upon us at any moment now." I looked at him wonderingly, for it was painfully still, though the darkness was growing intense, and the great junk seemed to have been swallowed up by the clouds that hung low like a fog over the sea. "There will be such a turmoil of the elements directly," continued Mr Brooke in a low voice, but only to me, "that I don't suppose a word will be heard." Then aloud, "Look here, my lads; I shall try and run the boat high upon the sands at the top of some breaker. Then it will be every man for himself. Never mind the boat--that is sure to be destroyed--but each man try to save his arms and ammunition; and if the two wounded men are in difficulties, of course you will lend a hand. Now then, one more order: The moment I say, `Down with the sail,' drag it from the mast, and two oars are to be out on either side. The wind will catch them and send us along, and I want them to give a few dips to get on the top of a roller to carry us in." "Ay, ay, sir." "That's all." His words in that terrible stillness sounded to me as almost absurd, for the sea was still calm, and save that sighing in the air of which I have before spoken, there was no further sound; and at last I said to him-- "Do you really think we shall have a hurricane?" "Look at the sky, my lad," he replied; "and take this as a lesson to one who will have men's lives depending upon his knowledge and skill some day. If ever there were signs of an awful night in the Chinese seas, it is now. Hark at that!" "Guns! The _Teaser_!" I exclaimed excitedly. "Heaven's artillery that, my lad," he said solemnly. Then in a whisper, "Shake hands! I'll help you all I can, Herrick, but heaven knows how we shall be situated soon." I felt a strange sensation of awe creep over me, as he gripped my hand warmly, and then snatched his away, and sat up firm and rigid, turning his head to the east as all now became suddenly black--so dark that I could hardly see the men before me and the sail. But still we glided rapidly on over the long smooth rollers, on and on toward the islands, which lay a short distance from the mainland. "It will be all guess work," whispered Mr Brooke. "I am keeping her head as near as I can guess for the channel, but the breakers will soon be our only guide." Then came the heavy roar again, which I had taken for guns, but it did not cease as before, when it sounded like a sudden explosion. It was now continuous, and rapidly increasing. "Thunder?" I asked in a low voice. "Wind. Tremendous. It will be on us in five minutes." But even then it seemed impossible, for we were still sailing swiftly and gently along towards the channel between the islands, and the roar like distant thunder or heavy guns had once more ceased. "We shall get to the shore first after all," I whispered. "No." At that moment there was a sensation as of a hot puff of air behind us. It literally struck my head just as if a great furnace door had been opened, and the glow had shot out on to our necks. "Here she comes," growled Tom Jecks; "and good luck to us." And then, as if to carry out the idea of the opened furnace, it suddenly grew lighter--a strange, weird, wan kind of light--and on either side, and running away from us on to the land, the sea was in a wild froth as if suddenly turned to an ocean of milk. "Down with the sail!" shouted Mr Brooke, who had held on to the last moment, so as to keep the boat as long as possible under his governance; and quickly as disciplined men could obey the sail was lowered, and as far as I could see they were in the act of stowing it along the side, when it filled out with a loud report, and was snatched from their hands and gone. "Any one hurt?" "No, sir," in chorus. "Oars." I heard the rattle of the two pairs being thrust out. Next Mr Brooke's words, yelled out by my ear--"sit fast!" and then there was a heavy blow, heavy but soft and pressing, followed by the stinging on my neck as of hundreds of tiny whips, and then we were rushing along over the white sea, in the midst of a mass--I can call it nothing else--of spray, deafened, stunned, feeling as if each moment I should be torn out of my seat, and as if the boat itself were being swept along like lightning over the sea, riding, not on heavy water, but on the spray. Then all was one wild, confusing shriek and roar. I was deafened; something seemed to clutch me by the throat and try to strangle me; huge soft hands grasped me by the body, and tugged and dragged at me, to tear me from my hold; and then, two arms that were not imaginary, but solid and real, went round me, and grasped the thwart on which I sat, holding me down, while I felt a head resting on my lap. I could see nothing but a strange, dull, whitish light when I managed to hold my eyelids up for a moment, but nothing else was visible; and above all--the deafening roar, the fearful buffeting and tearing at me--there was one thing which mastered, and that was the sensation of being stunned and utterly confused. I was, as it were, a helpless nothing, beaten and driven by the wind and spray, onward, onward, like a scrap of chaff. Somebody was clinging to me, partly to save himself, partly to keep me from being dragged out of the boat; but whether Mr Brooke was still near me, whether the men were before me, or whether there was any more boat at all than that upon which I was seated, I did not know. All I knew was that I was there, and that I was safe, in spite of all the attempts made by the typhoon to drag me out and sweep me away like a leaf over the milky sea. It cannot be described. Every sense was numbed. And if any lad who reads this were to take the most terrible storm he ever witnessed, square it, and then cube it, I do not believe that he would approach the elemental disturbance through which we were being hurled. There was a rocky shore in front of us, and another rocky island shore to our left; and between these two shores lay the channel for which we had tried to make. But Mr Brooke's rule over the boat was at an end the moment the storm was upon us, and, as far as I could ever learn afterwards, no one thought of rocks, channel, saving his life, or being drowned. The storm struck us, and with its furious rush went all power of planning or thinking. Every nerve of the body was devoted to the tasks of holding on and getting breath. How long it lasted--that wild rush, riding on the spray, held as it were by the wind--I don't know. I tell you I could not think. It went on and on as things do in a horrible dream, till all at once something happened. I did not hear it, nor see it, hardly even felt it. I only know that something happened, and I was being strangled--choked, but in another way. The hands which grasped my throat to keep me from breathing had, I believe, ceased to hold, and something hot and terrible was rushing up my nostrils and down my throat, and I think I then made some effort with my hands. Then I was being dragged along through water and over something soft, and all at once, though the deafening, confusing noise went on, I was not being swept away, but lying still on something hard. I think that my senses left me entirely then for a few moments--not more, for I was staring soon after at the dull light of white water sweeping along a little way off, and breathing more freely as I struggled hard to grasp what it all meant, for I did not know. I saw something dim pass me, and then come close and touch me, as if it sank down by my side; and that happened again and again. But it was all very dream-like and strange: the awful, overwhelming, crushing sound of the wind seemed to press upon my brain so that I could not for a long time think, only lie and try to breathe without catching each inspiration in a jerky, spasmodic way. I suppose hours must have passed, during which I stared through the darkness at the dull whitish phosphorescent glow which appeared through the gloom, and died out, and appeared and died out again and again, passing like clouds faintly illumined in a ghastly way, and all mingled with the confusion caused by that awful roar. Then at last I began to feel that the rush of wind and water was passing over me, and that I was in some kind of shelter; and when I had once hit upon this, I had as it were grasped a clue. I knew that I was lying on stones, and saw that rising above me was a mass of rock, which I knew by the touch, and this stone was sheltering me from the wind and spray. "We must have reached the shore safely, then," I said to myself, for my head was getting clearer; "and--yes--no--I was not hurt. We were all saved, then." At that point a terrible feeling of dread came over me. I was safe, but my companions? The shock of this thought threw me back for a bit, but I was soon struggling with the confusion again, and I recalled the fact that I had felt some one touch me as he sank down by my side. Arrived at this point, I turned a little to look, but all was perfectly black. I stretched out my hand and felt about. I snatched it back with a cry of horror. Yes, a cry of horror; for, though I could not hear it, I felt it escape from my lips. I had touched something all wet and cold lying close beside me, and I felt that it was one of my companions who had been cast up or dragged ashore--dead. Shivering violently, I shrank away, and stretched out my hand in the other direction--my left hand now, with my arm numbed, and my shoulder aching when I moved it, as if the joint had become stiffened and would not work. I touched somebody there--something cold and smooth and wet, and drew my hand away again, when, as it glided over the sand, it touched something else round and soft and long, and--yes--plaited. It was a long tail. "Ching!" I ejaculated; and, gaining courage, I felt again in the darkness, to find that it grew thinner. I tried again in the other direction, and once more touched the round wet object, which did not seem so cold, and then the next moment a hand caught mine and held it. I was right; it was Ching. I knew him by his long nails. Not alone! I had a companion in the darkness, one who was nearly as much stunned as I, for he moved no more, but lay holding on by my left hand, and for a time I was content to listen to the savage roar of the wind. But at last, as my brain worked and I mastered the sensation of horror, I began to feel about again with my right hand, till I touched the same cold, wet object I had encountered before. It was an arm, quite bare and cold; while now I could not withdraw my hand, but lay trembling and shuddering, till I felt that perhaps I was not right--that any one lying dead would not feel like that; and my hand glided down to the wrist. I knew nothing about feeling pulses only from having seen a doctor do so, but by chance my fingers fell naturally in the right place in the hollow just above the wrist joint, and a thrill of exultation ran through me, for I could distinctly feel a tremulous beating, and I knew that my imagination had played me false--that the man was not dead. CHAPTER FORTY ONE. AFTER THE TYPHOON. The repugnance and horror gave way to a sensation of joy. Here was another companion in misfortune, alive and ready to share the terrible trouble with us, but who was it? I tried to withdraw my left hand from Ching's grasp; but as soon as he felt it going, he clung to it spasmodically, and it was only by a sharp effort that I dragged it away, and turned to the side of my other companion, and began to touch him. There was the bare arm, but that was no guide; the face helped me no more; but the torn remnants of his clothes told me it was not Mr Brooke, and my heart sank. I felt again, and my hand encountered a drawn-up leg, and then I touched a bandage. It was Tom Jecks, who had been wounded by the fire from the junk. I could learn no more. I tried to speak; I shouted; but he made no sign, and I could not even hear my own cries. The darkness remained profound, and the deafening roar of the wind kept on without cessation. But, feeling more myself at last, I determined to crawl about a little, and find out whether any more of our crew were near us. Then I hesitated; but, summoning courage, I crept on my hands and knees, passed Ching, and then crouched down nearly flat, for I had crept to where the shelter ceased, and to have gone on would have been to be swept away. To test this I raised one hand, and in an instant I suffered quite a jerk, and each time I repeated the experiment I felt more and more that to leave the shelter meant to die, for the power of the blast was appalling. Crawling back, I proceeded in the other direction, and found that I could go what I guessed to be quite a dozen yards, feeling more and more in shelter. Then all at once I reached a point where the wind came through what afterwards proved to be a narrow pass between two masses of rock, and I shrank back disheartened at the barrenness of my search. In that black darkness it was very difficult to find my former position, even in so confined a space, and I found myself completely going wrong, and into the rushing wind, the effect being horribly confusing again. But, after lying flat down on the sand, which kept flying up and nearly blinding me, I grew more composed, and, resuming my search once more, found where my two companions lay; and, after touching our wounded sailor, and finding him lying as I had left him, I began to think of what I could do to help him, but thought in vain. To give help was impossible in the midst of that awful storm, and, utterly exhausted now, I sank back and reached out my left hand once more to try and touch Ching. He was on the alert, and caught my hand in both his, grasping it firmly, as if, boy as I was, he would gladly cling to me for protection; while I, in my horror and loneliness, was only too thankful to feel the touch of a human hand. Then, amid the strange confusion produced by the roar of the wind and thunder of the waves whose spray hissed over our heads, I lay wondering what had become of Mr Brooke and the others--whether they had reached the land, and were screened behind the rocks as we were; then about the _Teaser_--whether she had been able to make the shelter of the river before the typhoon came down upon them in all its fury. I seemed to see the men at their quarters, with the spars lowered upon deck, the boats doubly secured, and everything loose made fast. I fancied I felt the throb of the engines, and the whirr of the shaft, as it raced when the stern rose at some dive down of the prow; and the sharp "ting-ting" of the engine-room gong-bell struck on my ears above the yelling of the storm, for wild shrieks at times came mingled with the one tremendous overpowering roar. Then I began thinking again about Mr Brooke, and whether, instead of lying there in shelter on the sand, I ought not to be striving with all my might to find him; and all at once the roar over my head, the thunder of the breakers somewhere near, and the hiss and splash of the cutting spray, seemed to cease, and I was crawling about the shore, over sand and rocks, and through pools of water, to find Mr Brooke, while Ching followed me, crying out in piping tones, "Velly long of you. Windee blow allee way." But still I toiled on, lying flat sometimes, and holding tightly to the rocks beneath me, for fear of being snatched up and sent whirling over the sea. Then on again, to come to a mass of rock, up which I climbed, but only to slip back again, climbed once more and slipped, and so on and on till all was nothingness, save that the deafening roar went on, and the billows dashed among the rocks, but in a subdued far-off way that did not trouble me in the least. For my sleep--the sleep of utter exhaustion--had grown less troubled, the dreamy crawl in search of Mr Brooke died away, and I slept soundly there, till the sun glowing warmly upon my face made me open my eyes, to find Ching's round smooth yellow face smiling down at me, and Tom Jecks nursing his leg. I started up in wonder, but sank back with a groan, feeling stiff and sore, as if I had been belaboured with capstan bars. "You feel velly bad?" said Ching. "Horribly stiff." "Hollibly 'tiff; Ching lub you well." Before I knew what he was about to do, he seized one of my arms, and made me shout with agony, but he moved it here and there, pinching and rubbing and kneading it till it went easily, following it up with a similar performance upon the other. Back and chest followed; and in ten minutes I was a different being. But no amount of rubbing and kneading did any good to my spirits, nor to those of our companion in misfortune, whose wound troubled him a good deal; but he sat up, trying to look cheerful, while, with my head still confused, and thought coming slowly, I exclaimed-- "But the storm--the typhoon?" "Allee blow way, allee gone," cried Ching, smiling; "velly good job. You feel dly?" I did not answer then, for I felt as if I could not be awake. I had been lying in the lee of a huge mass of rock, amid stones and piled-up sand, upon which the sun beat warmly; the sky overhead was of a glorious blue; and there was nothing to suggest the horrors of the past night, but the heavy boom and splash of the billows which broke at intervals somewhere behind the rock. At last I jumped up, full of remorse at my want of thought. "Mr Brooke--the others?" I cried. "We were talking about 'em, sir, 'fore you woke up," said Jecks sadly; and I now saw that he had received a blow on the head, while he spoke slowly, and looked strange. "And what--" "I'm afraid they're--" "Allee dlowned; velly much 'flaid." I groaned. "I don't know how we managed to get ashore, sir," said Jecks faintly. "I think it was because there was so little undertow to the waves. When the boat struck, it felt to me as if I was being blown through the shallow water, and I shouldn't have been here if I hadn't come up against Mr Ching, who was pulling you along." "Then you saved me, Ching?" I cried. "Ching takee hold, and pullee here. Velly pull wolk. Him get hold of tow-chang, and pullee him both together." "That's right, sir. I snatched at anything, and got hold of his tail, and held on. But you don't mind, Mr Ching?" "No; mustn't cut tow-chang off." "Let's try if we can find the others," I said; and, taking the lead, I walked round the mass of rock which had sheltered us, to gaze out at the heaving sea, which was rising and falling restlessly; but there was no white water, all was of a delicious blue, darker than the sky, and not a sail in sight. To right and left extended a low cliff, at whose feet lay huge masses which had fallen from time to time; then an irregular stretch of sand extended to where the waves came curling over, the swell being very heavy, and the only trace of the storm to be seen was the way in which the sand had been driven up against the cliff, so as to form quite a glacis. We could see about half a mile in either direction, but there was no sign of our companions, and my heart sank again. There were, however, here and there, ridges of rock, running down like breakwaters into the sea, and about which it fretted and tossed tremendously; and, in the hope that one of these ridges might hide our friends from our view, I climbed to the top of the highest piece of rock I could reach, and took a long and careful survey. "See anything, sir?" said Tom Jecks. "No," I replied, "nothing. Yes; about a quarter of a mile on there's a spar sticking up; it may be the boat's mast." I came hurriedly down, and my announcement was enough to set my companions off, Jecks limping painfully through the loose sand, climbing rocks, and finding it no easy task to get over that so-called quarter of a mile, which, like all such spaces on the sea-shore, proved to be about double the length it looked, while the nearer we got the higher and more formidable the ridge seemed to grow, completely shutting out all beyond, where it ran down from the cliff at right angles into the sea. All at once, as I was helping the coxswain over an awkward stone, the poor fellow being weak and rather disposed to stagger, but always passing it off with a laugh and an "All right, sir, I shall be better after breakfast," Ching uttered an ejaculation, and pointed to something that the sea had washed up, and was pouncing upon again like a cat to draw it back. My heart seemed to stand still, but a horrible fascination drew me to the spot along with the Chinaman, for my first thought was that it was the body of Mr Brooke. "Not jolly sailor boy," said Ching; and I felt a peculiar exaltation. "Not Mis' Blooke. Pilate man dlowned. Ching velly glad." We turned away, and continued our route, for I shrank from going into dangerous breakers to try and drag the man out, and my companion was too weak. As to its being one of the pirates, it seemed possible, for I knew that one, if not two, had gone overboard in the fight, and it was probably one of these. We trudged on and reached the ridge at last, to find it bigger and more precipitous than I had expected. It ran out evidently for hundreds of yards, its course being marked by foam and fretting waves, and I was just thinking what a fatal spot it would be for a vessel to touch the shore, when I reached the top and uttered a startled cry, which brought the others to my side; for there was the explanation of the presence of the drowned Chinaman! Spreading away for a couple of hundred yards, the shore was covered with timbers, great bamboo spars, ragged sails, and the torn and shattered fragments of some large Chinese vessel; while, before I could shape it in my mind as to the possibilities of what vessel this could be, though certain it was not the _Teaser_, Ching said coolly-- "That velly good job. That big junk blow all to pieces, and allee bad pilate man dlowned. No go choppee off poor sailor head now. No 'teal silk, tea, allee good thing, and burnee ship. Velly good job indeed; velly bad lot." "You think it was the junk which cheated us?" "Yes, velly muchee same. Look, allee paint, lacquee, gold. Allee same junk; no use go find um now. No get head chop off for killee sailo'. Allee bad pilate allee dlowned." "Hold hard there, sir," whispered Tom Jecks. "I can hear people talking. Quick! squat, hide; there's a lot on 'em coming down off the cliff." We had just time to hide behind some rocks, when a party of about twenty Chinamen came cautiously and slowly down on to the sands, and Ching whispered as he peeped between the fragments of rock-- "Not allee pilate dlowned. Come along look at junk; take care; choppee off allee head; must hide." Ching was quite right, and I was awake to the fact that we three were prisoners on a little desert island, and in company with a gang of as savage and desperate enemies as man could have. CHAPTER FORTY TWO. FOR DEAR LIFE. It was all clear enough: the great junk which had so deceived Mr Brooke and Ching had been cast ashore and shattered, these men having escaped and been exploring the island, or perhaps they were only coming down now from the spot where they had taken refuge after being cast ashore. "Why, Ching," I whispered, "perhaps there are more of them about!" "P'laps," he replied. We dared not move, but remained there watching; and it now became pretty evident that the men had come down to examine the wreck, for they began to hurry about, chattering away as they searched in all directions amongst the fragments, one or another setting up a shout from time to time, which brought others to him. Then we saw them drag out now a chest from the sand in which it was bedded, now a cask; and soon after there was a burst of excitement over something we could not make out; but it was evidently a satisfactory find, for they bore it up from the sea to the soft, warm, dry sand, and all sat down round about it. "Find something velly good to eat," whispered Ching. "Now allee velly busy; come along, hide." It was very good advice; and we followed him down from the ridge, and in and out at the foot of the cliff, seeking for some place of concealment; for I had not a doubt about our fate if we were seen. In fact, I did not breathe freely until the great ridge and several masses of rock were between us; and only then, a good half-mile away in the direction from which we had come, did we venture to speak above our breath. "Velly big pity," said Ching, whose face was all in wrinkles. "Velly muchee wish back at fancee shop." "Let's find a place before we talk about that," I said. "Yes; soon findee place." "Here, what is it, Jecks?" I cried, catching our companion's arm; for he suddenly gave a lurch as we struggled through the loose sand, and nearly fell. "Bit done up, sir," he said, with a piteous smile. "Wound in my leg makes me feel sick, and the sun's hot. Is there a drop o' water to be got at anywhere?" I looked round at the glowing sand and rocks with a feeling of horrible despair coming over me. Yes, there was water--hundreds and thousands of miles of water, blue, glistening, and beautiful in the calm morning, but none that we could give a parched and fainting man to drink. "Try and creep along a little farther," I said. "Let's get you in hiding, and then Ching and I will search for some and bring it--" As I spoke I remembered that I had nothing that would hold water, and I felt constrained to add-- "Or fetch you to it." "All right, sir," said the man, with a weary smile; "allus obey your officers." Ching went to his other side, and supported him some fifty yards farther, our way now being through quite a chaos of rocks, which had been loosened in bygone times from the cliff above. Then, so suddenly that we were not prepared, the poor fellow dropped with his full weight upon our arms, and we had to lower him down upon a heap of drifted sand. "No go, sir," he said softly; "I'm a done-er." "No, no; rest a bit, and we'll find a cool place somewhere. I daresay we shall see a cave along here." "Can't do it, sir," he said feebly; "I've kep' on as long as I could. It's all up. Never mind me. If those beggars see you, they'll have no mercy on you, so go on and try and get away." "Yes; velly muchee makee haste. Pilate come soon." "Yes, sir; he's quite right, sir. You two cut and run." "And let them come and murder you, while we go?" I said. "Well, yes, sir," said the poor fellow faintly; "there's no good in having three killed when one would do." "Look about, Ching," I said sharply. "Is there any place where we can hide?" "No," he replied disconsolately. "Only place for lit' dog; no fo' man." "You can't do it, sir," said our poor companion. "Good-bye, sir, and God bless you; you've done all a orficer can." "Oh, have I? I should look well when Mr Reardon or the captain says, `What have you done with your men?'" "Don't! stop a-talking, sir," he cried, clinging to my hand. "You know what these beggars are, and you'll have 'em on to you, sir." "Yes; and we shall have them on to you if we don't find a place soon. Here, Ching, don't run away and leave us;" for I could see the interpreter climbing up a gap in the cliff. "He's quite right, sir; you go after him. I tell you it's all over and done with me. If you got me along a bit farther, I should only go off all the same. It's all up. Now, pray go, sir. It's no use to stay." "Hold your tongue!" I cried angrily; for with the feeling on me strong that the pirates might be down on us directly, and the only thing to do was to set off and run for my life, the poor fellow's imploring words were like a horrible temptation that I was too weak to resist. "I must speak, sir," he whispered, with his eyes starting, and his lips black and cracked by the heat and feverish thirst caused by his wound. "There, you see, Mr Ching's gone, and your only chance is to follow him." I looked up, and just caught sight of one of the Chinaman's legs as he disappeared over the edge of the cliff to which, high up, he had crawled. And once more the desire to escape came upon me, but with increased strength, that made me so angry at my weakness that I turned upon the poor fellow almost threateningly. "Will you hold your tongue?" I whispered hoarsely. "Will you go, sir?" he pleaded. "I tell yer it's all up with me, and the Teapots can't hurt me worse than what I've got now. Arn't got your dirk, have you?" "No; why?" "'Cause it would ha' been an act o' kindness to put me out of my misery, and save me from being cut to pieces by them there wretches. Now, sir, good-bye, and God bless you, once more! Tell the skipper I did my duty to the last." I broke down as I sank on my knees by the poor fellow; and I didn't know my voice--perhaps it was being husky from the heat-as I said to him, very chokily-- "And if you get away, tell the captain I did my duty to the last." "Yes, sir; but do go now." I jumped up again, ashamed of the blinding tears that came for a few moments into my eyes. "Look here," I said; "if you weren't so weak, I'd kick you, old a man as you are. Likely thing for a British officer to sneak off and leave one of his men like this!" "But the beggars are coming, I'm sure, sir." "Very well," I said gloomily, "let them come. It's all very well for a full-moon-faced Chinaman to go off and take care of himself, but it isn't English, Tom Jecks, and that you know." The poor fellow hoisted himself a little round, so that he could hide his face on his uninjured arm, and as I saw his shoulders heave I felt weaker than ever; but I mastered it this time, and knelt there with a whole flood of recollections of home, school, and my ambitions running through my brain. I thought of my training, of my delight at the news of my being appointed to the _Teaser_, of my excitement over my uniform; and that now it was all over, and that in all probability only the sea-birds would know of what became of me after the Chinamen had done. Then I thought of Ching's cowardice in leaving me alone with the poor wounded fellow like this. "I knew he wasn't a fighting man," I said sadly; "but I couldn't have believed that he was such a cur." At that moment there was a quick scrambling sound, which made me start to my feet, and Tom Jecks started up on his elbow. "Here they come, sir," he gasped. "Now, sir," he whispered wildly, "do, pray, cut and run." "With you," I said resolutely. He made an effort to rise, but fell back with a groan. "Can't do it, sir. Without me. Run!" I put my hands in my pockets without a word, and then started, for a voice said-- "You think Ching lun away allee time?" "Ching!" I cried, grasping his arm. "Yes; no good. Can't findee big hole to hide. Ching tumblee down off rock, and hurt him." "Much?" I said. "Yes, plentee plentee. Time to go now. Pilate all come along this way." He passed his hand involuntarily straight round his neck edgewise, as if thinking about how a knife or sword would soon be applied. "You saw them?" I cried. "Yes," he said sadly. "Allee come along. You lun away now with Ching?" "I can't leave Tom Jecks," I said. "Off with you, and try and save yourself. Never mind us." Ching looked at the injured sailor. "You no get up, lun?" he said. "Can't do it, mate," groaned the poor fellow. "I want Mr Herrick to make a dash for his life." "Yes, velly good. You makee dashee you life, Mr Hellick." "No, I stay here. Run for it, Ching; and if you escape and see the captain or Mr Reardon again, tell him we all did our duty, and how Mr Brooke was drowned." "Yes, Ching tellee Mr Leardon evelyting." "Then lose no time; go." "No; Ching velly tire, velly hot; wantee bleakfast, flesh tea, nicee new blead. Too hot to lun." "But I want you to save yourself," I said excitedly. "Yes; allee save evelybody, alleegether. Ching won't go leave Mr Hellick." "Ching!" I cried. "Hush! No makee low. Lie down likee lit' pigee in sand. Pilate come along." His ears were sharper than mine; for, as I dropped down at full length in the sand upon my chest, I saw him drag a good-sized stone in front of his face to screen it, while I, in imitation, rapidly scooped up some of the sand and spread it before me, so as to make a little mound of a few inches high, just as a couple of the junk's crew came into sight about a hundred and fifty yards on our left, and as close down to the sea as the billows would allow. Then a few more appeared; and at last the whole party, walking almost in single file, and looking sharply from left to right as they came. There was a space of about sixty yards from the face of the cliff to the edge of the water, and the shore, after about twenty yards of perfect hard level, rapidly rose, the interval being a rugged wilderness of rock half buried in the driven sand. It was up nearly at the highest part of this chaos of rocks, where we had been seeking along the cliff face for a cavern, that we three lay, many feet above the level strip by the sea; and there were plenty of rocks protruding from the sand big enough to hide us; but it could only be from a few of the men at a time. To the others I felt that we must be so exposed that some one or other must of necessity see us if he looked our way. There was no need to whisper, "Be silent," for we lay there perfectly motionless, hardly daring to breathe, but forced, fascinated, as it were, into watching the long procession of our enemies, walking along, chattering loudly, and every now and then stooping to pick up something which had been driven up by the sea. At times I saw them gazing right in our direction, and then up, over us, at the cliff with its patches of grey-green vegetation; but fully half of them passed by without making a sign of being aware of our presence, and hope began to spring up of the possibility of their all going by without noticing us. The next moment it seemed impossible, and my heart sank as one active fellow stepped toward us, apparently coming straight to where we lay, and appearing to be watching me all the time. And now more strongly than ever came the feeling that I must leap up and run for my life, though I knew that if I did the mob of Chinamen would give chase, like the pack of savage hounds that they were, and never give up till they had run me down; and then-- I felt sick with the heat of the sun, and the horror of my position. There, say it was all from the latter cause; and the rocks, sea, pirates, all swam before me in a giddy circle, with only one clear object standing out distinct upon the sands--imagination, of course, but so real and plain before my dilated eyes, that I shuddered at its reality--it was myself, lying in the baking sunshine, after the pirates had overtaken me and passed on! It was very curious in its reality, and so clear before me that I could hardly believe it true, when the man who was coming toward us suddenly stooped, picked up something, and then turned and went back to his position in the line. For I had not calculated in my excitement upon the deceptive nature of the ground upon which we lay, with its large masses of rock and scattered fragments of endless shapes, some partly screening, some blending with our clothes as we lay motionless; and above all, upon the fact that our presence there was not expected. Otherwise there might have been quite another tale to tell. Even when I knew that they were passing on, I hardly dared to draw my breath, and lay still now, with my head pressed down sidewise in the sand; till at last I could keep from breathing no longer, and the dry sand flew at one great puff. I lay trembling the next moment, fearing that the sound would bring the bloodthirsty wretches back, hot and eager to hack to pieces the foreign devil who had escaped from their clutches the day before; but the sound of their voices grew more and more faint, till the last murmur died away, and I raised my head slowly, an inch at a time, till I could gaze along the strand. There was nothing visible but the scattered rocks, sun-bleached sand, and the dark, smooth surface over which the foaming water raced back each time a glistening billow curved over and broke. And in proof that the enemy were some distance away, I could see the pale-feathered, white-breasted gulls passing here and there in search of food, while able at any moment to spread their wings and escape. CHAPTER FORTY THREE. OUR REFUGE. "Oh deah me!" said Ching in his most squeaky tones, "I velly hungly. You like nicee bleakfast, Mis' Hellick?" "Don't speak to me as if I were a baby, Ching," I cried angrily. "No; speak like to offlicer, Mr Hellick. You likee bleakfast-- something good eat?" "I hadn't thought of it before, Ching," I said, feeling rather ashamed of my angry tone; "but I am faint, and I suppose that is through being hungry." "Yes; Ching go down among locks and sand, see if he find something eat." "No, no," I cried excitedly; "it would be madness." "Eh? you tinkee Ching mad?" he said, with a smile. "Oh no; but you would meet some of the pirates." "No; allee gone 'long shore. Not come back long time." "But it is too risky. Perhaps some of the wretches are waiting." "No; allee velly wicked--velly bad men. Feel 'flaid stop all alone. 'Flaid see men again headee chop off. Pilate allee keep together. No come long time; Ching go find something good eat." "But if they come on the cliffs and look back, they might see you." "Yes; might see Ching flom velly long way topside lock chop. Then think--" "Think, yes, of course." "Not allee same you think. See Ching? Yes; see John Chinaman in blue flock allee torn, long tow-chang; that's all." I did not grasp his meaning for a moment. "Oh, I see," I cried at last; "you mean that if they did see you, they would think it was one of their own crew?" "Yes; think one of own clew. But Ching not pilate." "Of course. Then there would be no risk. You shall go, but we must find some place where we can hide." "Mis' Hellick help soon makee velly nicee place." "Wait a minute," I said. "Couldn't we climb up on the cliff like you did?" "Yes, Mr Hellick climb, but no cally jolly sailor boy, Tom Jeck, allee way." "No; we must make a place here if we cannot find one." He walked up to the face of the cliff, but there was no spot at all likely to answer the purpose till he had gone about fifty yards, when he turned and signalled to me. I crept close up to the cliff, and then stooped down, after a timid look in the direction taken by the pirates, and found Ching standing by a piece of the rock which had split away from above, fallen clear, and then its top had leaned back against the rock face, leaving a narrow rift between its base and the cliff, through which we could see the light dimly, some twelve or fourteen yards away, but it was only a faint gleam showing that the far end was nearly closed. "Velly nice beautiful place; ought to come here last night." "Yes, capital. We can hide here; and once inside, if we had arms, we could keep the wretches at a distance." "Don'tee want fight now," said Ching, quietly. "No swold, no shoot gun, no jolly sailor boy. Wantee eat and dlink." "Yes; let's get poor Jecks here at once." "You go fetch him; tly to walkee now: Ching go fetch eat, dlink." He hurried off toward the ridge, while I went back to my wounded man, who seemed to be lying asleep, but he opened his eyes as I approached. "We've found a place," I said. "Do you think you can limp a little way?" He tried to rise, and fell back with a moan, but upon my placing my arm under his, he made a fresh effort, and stood upright, taking step for step with mine, till I had him right up to the narrow opening of our shelter, into which he slowly crawled, and then spoke for the first time, but in a hoarse voice I did not know-- "Water." "I'll try," I said; "don't stir from there till I come back." Creeping along close under the cliff, I soon reached the ridge, and was about to mount, but dropped down and hid, for I saw something move in the direction taken by the pirates. A minute's investigation, however, showed it to be some bird on the strand, and I began to climb, reached the top, took a careful observation in both directions, and then up at the cliff, and,--lastly, looked out for Ching. I soon espied him running out after a retiring billow, then running in again, and continuing this several times as if he were a boy at play. Finally, however, I saw him go splashing in after a wave, and then come hurrying back dragging something, which he drew right ashore. There he stopped, panting, and looking back, caught sight of me, and signalled to me to come. I hurried down, reached him amongst the piles of broken timber and rubbish, and found that he had secured a wooden box, one end of which had been battered upon the rocks, laying bare the bright glistening tin with which it was lined; and I realised directly that he had found what for us was a treasure, if we could tear open the tin, for the case bore the brand of a well-known firm of English biscuit-makers, and doubtless it was part of the loot taken from some unfortunate British merchantman. "You helpee me cally?" he said. For answer I took hold of one end of the case, and we bore it right up, through the thick sand, close under the cliff, where we placed it behind a big stone. "You gottee big stlong knife?" cried Ching. I took out a big-bladed knife, opened it, and found no difficulty in thrusting it through the soft tin and cutting a long gash. Then I cut another, parallel, and joined two of the ends, making a lid, which, upon being raised, showed that the biscuits were perfectly unharmed by the salt water. "Fillee allee pockets," cried Ching; and I proceeded to do so, while twice as many as I could stow away disappeared under his garments. "Now," I said, "we must find water and get back." "Waitee minute; p'laps pilate come back; no have bliskit." He dropped down upon his knees, and began tearing away the sand from behind the stone, after which he dragged the case into the hole, and tossed the sand over it at a tremendous rate, ending by completely covering it and looking up at me with a smile of satisfaction. "Now for water," I said eagerly. "Yes, Ching find water;" and we tramped back, the loose dry sand falling in and obliterating our footprints. Ching led the way to a pile of tangled wreck-wood, and took out a jar covered with bamboo basket-work, and having a cross handle--a vessel that would probably hold about half a pailful. "Ching find--float flom junk," he said; and then, with a knowing smile, he led the way to where the ridge joined the cliff; and, unable to contain myself when, he stopped and pointed down triumphantly, I fell upon my knees, and placed my lips to a tiny pool of clear cool water, which came down from a rift about forty feet above my head in the limestone rock, and, as I drank the most delicious draught I ever had in my life, the water from above splashed down coolly and pleasantly upon the back of my head. "Ching hear can go _tlickle, tlickle_," he said, stooping in turn to get a deep draught before filling the vessel, and then leading the way back over the ridge, and out of the hot sunshine into the place where our poor companion lay upon his back, muttering hurriedly words of which we could not catch the import. This was a fresh difficulty, for he could not be roused into sitting up to drink; and at last, in despair, I scooped up some water in my hand, and let it trickle upon his half-parted lips. The effect was instantaneous; they moved eagerly, and, ceasing his muttering, he swallowed more and more of the water, till he must have drunk nearly a pint, and now sank into a more easy position fast asleep, and breathing easily. "Ha!" I exclaimed. But I said no more, Ching's hand was placed over my lips, and he held me back, staring hard all the time towards the tall narrow outlet of our shelter. For the moment I thought that this was some cowardly attack--one is so prone to think evil of people rather than good; but he stooped down, placed his lips to my ear, and whispered the one word-- "Pilate." Then a loud burst of talking came upon us, sounding as it doubled by striking and echoing from the rocks. My blood ran cold once more, for I thought that my exclamation had been heard, and that the enemy was talking about and watching the opening of our shelter. Then the noise grew louder, and some dispute seemed to be on the way, while, what was worse, the sounds did not pass on, showing that the crew of the junk, for I felt that it must be they, had returned and stopped just in front of where we crouched. Where we were was dark enough to keep any one from seeing us if he looked in from the bright sunshine; but I knew that, sooner or later, if the men stayed where they were, some one was sure to come prying about, and would see the place. How long, then, would it be ere we were discovered, and had to meet our terrible fate after all? "You thinkee get out other way?" said Ching at last, with his lips to my ear. "I think not," I whispered back. "Mustn't look out this way," he whispered again. "You go light to end and look see if pilate going stop." I was so eager to get an observation of the enemy, that I hurriedly crept along the narrow passage. I say hurriedly, but my progress was very slow, for I had to worm my way over fallen stones, some of which were loose, and I was in constant dread of making a sound which might betray us. But I got to the end in safety, and had to mount up over a large narrow wedge-like piece which filled up the end; the opening, dim and partly stopped with some kind of growth outside, being quite ten feet from the sandy bottom. And all this while the murmur of voices from outside came indistinctly, till I was at the top of the wedge, when the talking grew suddenly louder. I hesitated for a few moments, and then, feeling sure that I was safe, I placed my face to the opening, parted the tough plant a little, and then a little more, so as not to attract attention; and at last, with a bright yellow daisy-like growth all about my face, I peered out, to see that the enemy had quietly settled down there to smoke, not thirty yards from our hiding-place, while some were settling themselves to sleep, and again others to eat biscuits similar to those we had found. They evidently meant to stay, and if our wounded companion began his delirious mutterings again, I knew that, although a fellow-countryman might be spared, my career was at an end. I crept down cautiously, and told Ching all I had seen; whereupon he nodded his head sagely, and placed his lips to my ear. "Plenty big stone," he whispered. "Plenty sand; velly quiet; 'top up hole." I shrank from making any movement, but, softly and silently, Ching crept nearly to the opening by which we had entered, and began moving the fragments embedded in sand, which formed the flooring of our narrow refuge, turning over peat shaley pieces, and laying them naturally between us and the light, and, after planting each heavy piece, scooping up the dry sand with both hands, and pouring it over the stone. Then another piece and another followed, awkward bits so heavy that he could hardly lift them; and, gaining courage, I let to as well, pulling blocks from out of the sand where I knelt, and passing them to him. He nodded his satisfaction, and we both worked on slowly and silently, building up till the erection became a breast-work, rapidly growing narrower as it rose higher; the sand poured in, filling up the interstices and trickling down on the other side, thus giving our rugged wall the appearance of being a natural heap, over which the dried sand had been swept in by the storm. I was in agony as we worked on, expecting moment by moment to hear a stone fall, or a loud clap of one against another; but Ching worked in perfect silence, while the busy chattering of the men without kept on, and then by slow degrees grew more smothered as our wall arose; while as it progressed our shelter grew more gloomy. There was plenty of material to have made a wall ten times the size, whereas, roughly speaking, ours was only about four feet in length from the fallen rock to the base of the cliff, and sloped inward till, at breast height, it was not more than two feet, and from there rapidly diminished till Ching ceased, and breathing hard, and wet with perspiration, he whispered to me-- "No leach no higher; can'tee find now." It was so dark that we could only just see each other's faces, but in a short time we became so accustomed to the gloom, that we could watch the changes in Tom Jecks' countenance as he lay sleeping, by the faint rays which stole in over the top of our cavern, and through the tuft of herbage which grew high up at the other end. But the heat was terrible in so confined a space, and, exhausted as I was with lifting stones and scooping up sand, there were moments when everything appeared dreamy and strange, and I suppose I must have been a little delirious. I was sitting panting with the heat, resting my head against the rock, listening to the breathing of Tom Jecks, and wondering why it was that something hot and black and intangible should be always coming down and pressing on my brain, when I started into wakefulness, or rather out of my stupor, for Ching touched me, and I found that he had crept past Tom Jecks to where I had made my seat, and had his lips close to my ear. "Hoolay!" he whispered. "Flee cheahs! Pilate all go away! Go up see." CHAPTER FORTY FOUR. WITHIN AN ACE. Ching's words sent a thrill of delight through me, rousing me, and bringing me out of my half-delirious state. Without a word, I crept cautiously up to my look-out place, listening to the loud shouting and gabbling of the Chinamen as I got nearer to the tuft of greeny growth, which I parted without so much hesitation now, and, looking out, I could see that by the warm glow of the late afternoon sun which made me shrink back with my heart sinking, and creep down again to Ching. "Yes?" he whispered. "Allee going 'way?" "No," I replied, with my lips to his ear; "they are carrying up boards and pieces of the wreck and sails, and making themselves a shelter. They are going to stay." Ching drew his breath with a low hiss, and was silent for a few minutes. Then, quite cheerfully, he whispered-- "Velly bad job. Don'tee want bad wicked pilate here. Nevy mind: come, eat blisket, dlink watee. Muchee best place. Muchee better than pilate. Then go have good long s'eep." We stole back to where the biscuit and water vessel had been placed for safety; but when Ching handed me some biscuits I felt as if I could not eat, though a little water refreshed me. "No dlinkee much; no get more till pilate gone." I shuddered as I thought of the consequences of being without water in that stifling place, but the simple refreshments did me a wonderful amount of good, and, after dipping my handkerchief in the vessel and squeezing a few drops from time to time between Tom Jecks' lips as he began to mutter, he dropped off to sleep again. I sat listening then to the smothered sounds from without, where the enemy were evidently very busy, and I was just dropping off again into an uneasy slumber, when I started into wakefulness, for there was a loud shout from the opening we had blocked up, and I felt that all was over. They had found the way in, and in a few moments we should be dragged out. Directly after there was the babble of several other voices, and a discussion went on in Chinese, not a word of which could I understand. Then, to my utter wonder, the voices which had come over the top as if speaking close by me, suddenly ceased, and I could hear the _pad pad_ of bare feet on the sands. "Velly neally catchee catchee, and choppee off head," said Ching softly. "Begin to be velly solly for poor Mis' Hellick. Pilate say, `Heah good place, make hole s'eep in.' 'Nothee pilate say, `Big fool; allee wet damp; wildee beast live in hole, and allee 'tink. Come back, makee better place.'" It was a narrow escape, and it was long enough before my heart calmed down, left off throbbing, and I fell asleep. Utter exhaustion had done its work, and my sleep was deep and dreamless. Once my eyes had closed, they did not open again till long after sunrise the next morning, when I lay there puzzled, and wondering where I was and what was the meaning of the murmur of voices apparently from somewhere overhead. Ching's voice chased away the remaining mists. "You had velly good s'eep?" he whispered. "Feel muchee better?" I did not answer, only squeezed his hand, and turned to see how Tom Jecks was, but he did not seem to have stirred, and we then ate sparingly of our biscuits, and drank more sparingly of the water. "Must be velly careful," Ching said again; "no get more till pilate gone 'way." That day went by like a portion of some feverish dream. My head burned and throbbed; my thirst grew terrible in the hot, close place, and Ching owned to suffering terribly in the same way; but the faithful fellow never touched a drop of the water, save when the evening came, and we partook together of our rapidly-diminishing store of biscuits, the very touch of which on my lips increased the agony of my thirst. And all the while we were awake to the fact that the Chinamen had an ample supply of food and water, for they kept dragging up to the camp they had formed casks and chests which had been washed up from the wreck of their junk; and when I climbed up and looked out, I could see them apparently settled down and resigned to their fate, until some friendly junk came along or they could surprise another, feasting away, or playing some kind of game with stones. "Waitee lit' bit," Ching whispered. "Allee s'eep, and Ching get eat dlink." But I felt certain that he would be caught, and begged him not to go till we were absolutely driven by hunger and thirst; and so that day passed, with the rock growing hotter, and the air too stifling almost to breathe, while, to my horror, I found that Tom Jecks was growing more and more feverish. At times he began to mutter so loudly that we were obliged to throw my jacket over his face to prevent the sounds from drawing the attention of the enemy. I believe I was half-delirious all that day, and when the night came our little supply of water was running so low that Ching asked if he had not better climb over the wall and go and fetch some more. "No," I said; "it means discovery. We must wait." I dropped soon after into a heavy stupor-like sleep, and this time I was the first to wake and see the sun's rays stealing in through the growth in the rift. Ching was sleeping calmly enough, but Tom Jecks had been tossing about, and lay in a very peculiar position, which startled me-- it looked so strange. But Ching woke just then, and, nodding and smiling, he helped me to turn our poor companion back, when we found him flushed and excited, muttering angrily, quite off his head. "Nevy mind; pilate get tired; go to-day," whispered Ching. "Get bettee soon. Now have bleakfast. Waitee bit: Ching makee butiful bleakfast, chicken, toast, egg, nice flesh tea. There. On'y 'nuff blisket for to-day. Ching go out to-night get plenty blisket, plenty watee, plenty--plentee--oh, deah--oh, deah!" "What is it?" I whispered. "Oh deah! Not drop watee left. You get up dlink allee watee?" "No; did you?" "No. Ching see. Pooh Tom Jeck knock over with arm." It was only too evident, for the water vessel had been laid upon its side, and the sand beneath was soaked. "Ching velly solly," said the Chinaman softly. "No gettee more watee till quite dalk." My head sank against the rock, and I hardly stirred the whole of that day. Ching pressed me to eat some of the remaining biscuits, but I could not touch them, only rest my burning head there, and try to think of what was to come. Ching would certainly be caught if he ventured out, for the enemy never all lay down to sleep together; and, what was worse, I felt convinced, though in a confused way, that sooner or later the delirious mutterings and talkings of Tom Jecks must be heard. I can only remember patches of that day. The rest is all burning heat and wandering away amongst grass and flowers and purling streams, whose trickling I seemed to hear. It was getting well on in the afternoon, I suppose, that Tom Jecks' fever came to a height. He muttered, and then began to talk angrily, but in an incoherent way, and his voice grew so loud that at last I roused myself and went up to the look-out, to watch whether it was heard without. But the Chinamen heard nothing, only sat or lay about, talking or sleeping. It was getting close upon evening, for the sunshine was warm and golden, and cast long shadows from the rocks and the cliff above us over the level sand. How beautiful it all looked! that golden sea, with a distant sail here and there. And now suddenly I found that there was a great deal of excitement amongst the Chinamen, who were talking loudly. My head was hot and confused, but I soon saw the reason why, and hope began to revive, for about a couple of miles out I could see two junks standing in, and my heart throbbed again with excitement as I noted their rig, and could feel certain they were the pair we had watched through that strange night. "I must go and tell Ching," I said to myself. "Those junks will take the wretches off. Only a few more hours, and we shall be safe." "Stand by, my lads! Look out! Storm's coming down upon us. Now then; every man for himself." I turned cold with horror. Just then, too, when we were so near to safety. For the words were Tom Jecks', roared in a hoarse voice in the height of his delirium, and I saw that they were heard outside. For the Chinamen who were sitting sprang up, sword or knife in hand; those who were looking out to sea or making signals faced round, stood staring at the cliff for a few moments as if startled, and then, as Tom Jecks' voice rose again, but in muffled tones, for Ching had thrown himself upon the poor fellow to stifle his utterances, the pirates uttered a yell, rushed to the opening, tore down the sand and stones, and Ching and Tom Jecks were dragged out on to the sand. They had not seen me for the moment, but there was a shout directly, a man jumped up, caught me by the leg, and I was dragged along and out into the soft evening sunshine, to be forced down upon my knees close to where Tom Jecks lay, and Ching was being held, for he was struggling wildly with his captors, and talked excitedly to the fierce wretches who crowded round us. Ching was evidently pleading for mercy, not for himself but for me. I knew it, for he kept pointing to me; and finally he made a bound, got free, and leaped to me, throwing his arms about my waist. "No killee; shan't killee," he cried wildly; and then, turning round, he yelled at our captors in his own tongue, abusing them in his rage, and threatening them with his clenched fist. But it was all in vain: a dozen hands were at him; others seized and held me. Ching was dragged away vociferating wildly, thrown down, and three men sat upon him, while another knelt down, twisted his hand in the poor fellow's tail, and held his head fast. I don't think they meant to kill him, their rage being evidently directed at us; and I saw, with a peculiar kind of fascination, one man with a big sword come close to me; another, armed with a similar blade, go to where Tom Jecks lay, held down by three others. I can hardly describe my sensations. Five minutes before, I was horribly frightened; the cold perspiration stood upon my forehead; my hands were wet, and my legs sank under me. But now, all the fear had gone. I knew I was to die, and I remembered the execution I had seen in that great enclosure, when with one _whisk_ of the sword the executioner had lopped off head after head. It would not take long, I thought, and a curious exaltation came over me as I began to think of home, and at the same time my lips uttered the word "Good-bye," which was followed by a prayer. I did not cease muttering those words as I felt myself forced into a kneeling position, and saw that Tom Jecks was being treated in the same way. And somehow, as I prayed, the thought would come to me that the poor fellow would not feel or know anything about what was going to happen. Just then, as the man with the big sword approached Tom Jecks, and I was watching, I did not see but I knew that the other was close behind me and a little on my left. But it did not trouble me any more than it did to know that the fierce wretches were all gazing excitedly at us, and in a high state of delight at being able to slay two of their foes. It takes long to describe all this, but it happened very quickly. The man had raised his sword to strike at Tom Jecks, and I shuddered and looked aside, to see the great shadow of a man on the sand at my feet, and there was a sword raised close by me. At the same time Ching uttered a wild shriek, and the man who held his tail forced the poor fellow's head down in the sand, but in vain; he wrenched his head sidewise, raised it, and looked towards the cliff, while I flinched slightly, for the shadow moved, as he who made it drew back to strike. _Crash_! No: it was not the falling of the sword on my poor outstretched neck, but a volley from the top of the cliff, fired by twenty of our brave blue-jackets, and half-a-dozen of the pirates fell shrieking on the sands. I turned faint, but I recovered my senses as I saw Ching spring up, rush at a man on the sand, snatch up his sword and run to me. "Quick!" he cried; "jump up; fight!" Almost mechanically I obeyed him, and snatched a knife from the hands of one of the fallen men to defend my life, just as a second volley rolled forth from the cliff, directed at the pirates as they ran toward the ridge. For there was no need for us to fight--our enemies were in full retreat; and, as I looked up at the cliff, I could see our men drawn-up, and they were signalling evidently to some one out of sight. The next minute we were hailed. "Which is the way down?" "This way," cried Ching excitedly; and he ran south, pointing to the rift by which he had climbed the cliff, while I stood there--giddy, helpless, and at last sank down on my knees beside poor Tom Jecks, who was still muttering something about the storm. I recovered, however, enough to watch our men descending the rift--a perilous, break-neck place; but they did not hesitate, and in a few minutes all were down, formed up, and came toward us at the double. And now for the first time, at the head of those familiar faces, I saw Mr Reardon, who thrust his sword into his sheath as he drew near and literally rushed at me. "My dear boy!" he cried, giving me quite a fatherly hug; "thank God, we were just in time." I could not speak--I was too giddy; but I tried to look my thanks. "Not hurt, are you?" "No, sir; only faint." By this time the last of the pirates had passed over the ridge, and I felt irritated with Mr Reardon for not going in pursuit. But he did not read my countenance; he called one of the men out of the line, made him give me some water from his bottle, and bent down on his knees by poor Tom Jecks. "Ha!" he said; "fever from a wound. Give him some water too, my lad." He sprang to his feet then, and I understood why he had not gone in pursuit of our enemies, for just then there was a sharp volley from over the ridge somewhere. "Ha! that's got them," said Mr Reardon, turning to me. "We divided, my lad! half of us came along the top of the cliff, the other half along the shore." There was another volley, and I saw Mr Reardon smile as he gave the orders, and out flashed the men's cutlasses, and were fixed with a quick tingling rattle on the muzzles of their rifles. "Here they come, sir," cried the warrant officer at the far end of the line. "Yes, my lad, and we're ready for them. Now, one volley as soon as they are together, boys, and then the blades. Bayonet every wretch who does not throw down his arms." A low murmur ran along the little line, and I saw our men's eyes flash in the evening sun. But the excitement was not complete, for, gathering strength now, and recovering from the shock I had received, I was watching the pirates scrambling over the ridge in haste, as if pursued, when there was a concussion of the air, a heavy boom, and I saw the _Teaser_ come into sight, passing through the channel south of where we stood. Then there was a quick puff of smoke, another heavy boom, and I saw that she was going full speed, leaving a black stream of smoke behind her, in chase of the two junks, one of which was about a quarter of a mile away, the other about a mile farther. They were evidently taken by surprise, for the men were hurriedly hoisting sail, and, as I learned afterwards, the _Teaser_ had been quite hidden till she rounded a little promontory at the mouth of the channel between the first and second islands--the channel for which we had so vainly steered on the night of the storm. The firing went on steadily, the crash of the great shell following the report of the piece, but I had nearer and more exciting work to see close at hand; and once more my heart beat high, as the pirates gathered together, and, seeing the danger before them, paused for a moment or two at the foot of the ridge slope, looked to right to see only the perpendicular cliff, to left to see the sea, and then, uttering a savage yell, came tearing on. "Fire!" roared Mr Reardon, when they were about fifty yards distant, and I saw several fall and others stagger and halt. But the others continued their wild dash like men, and were met by our lads, who advanced with their cutlass-bayonets at the charge. There was a loud cheer, a savage yelling, and I saw the blades flashing in the golden sunshine as they met. Then a minute's fierce encounter, with men falling, and then half-a-dozen turned and fled back for the ridge, but only to stop and turn to their right, making for the sea. For the ridge was lined with blue-jackets and marines, and shot after shot was fired at the flying men, who without hesitation plunged into the sea and swam out a few yards, while our lads pursued them, but only to halt on the hard wet sand, where the waves now gently rippled. There was a strange fascination in the scene, and I watched the six shaven heads of the swimming pirates till the first threw up his hands, battled the air for a few moments, and went down. The others turned and slowly swam shoreward till they could wade, when they approached our men and flung their weapons on the sand in token of surrender. There was a triumphant shout at this, and then another--a loud and frantic cheer. For the firing of the _Teaser_ had been going on rapidly, and all at once the first junk was seen to heel over, and gradually settle down, leaving the sea strewn with fragments of timber, to which the crew were left clinging; while the gunboat raced on, sending shell after shell rapidly at the other, till she was nearly alongside, when there was a tremendous roar, following the crashing into her of a shell, and the second junk flew up in fragments. The shell had reached her little magazine of powder; and then the work of mercy began. I was watching the boats being lowered when I heard a shout from behind, and, looking round, saw the second line of our blue-jackets advancing from the ridge. To my great joy, I saw with them those whom we had mourned as drowned, while the next minute Mr Brooke had me by the hands, and I heard a strange gulping noise, ending in quite a howl. I looked sharply round, and saw Ching seated on the sand, wiping his eyes with his sleeves. "What's the matter, Ching--hurt?" I asked. "No, not hurt, Mis' Hellick; Ching so velly glad." CHAPTER FORTY FIVE. "HUZZA!" By the time the _Teaser's_ boats had picked up those of the wretches who wished to be saved, I had learned from Mr Brooke how, when the boat struck, he and the others had clung to her and been swept along through the channel, the fierce current carrying them round the point, and at last into comparative shelter, where finally they reached the shore right on the far side of the island. Thence, after a great deal of climbing, they made their way toward the channel to come in search of us; but they had to fly for their lives, finding that the island was in possession of the wrecked crew of the junk. They lay in hiding all that day and the next. That evening, in answer to signals, a fishing-boat picked them up, half-dead with thirst, and by the use of a few Chinese words and signs, and the showing of money, the men were prevailed upon to take them up to the river, where, to Mr Brooke's great delight, he found the _Teaser_ at her old anchorage uninjured, she having escaped the fury of the typhoon, just passing into the river before it came down in its full violence. Captain Thwaites had been anxiously awaiting the return of the boat from up the river, for, in spite of all inquiries, he had been unable to get any tidings of her till just as Mr Brooke arrived, to find the owners of the boat he had taken, on board making application for payment. They were dismissed with a promise of full restitution, and, while steam was being got up, a boat was lowered, the floating grating which acted as a buoy found, the cutter recovered, and then the _Teaser_ sailed for the river's mouth and came in search of us, Mr Brooke still clinging to the hope that we had escaped. In the offing the two junks were seen and recognised, evidently on their way to pick up their shipwrecked friends. First of all, the strong party of blue jackets and marines was landed, while the _Teaser_ went round the back of the island, to reach the channel and take the pirate junks by surprise. Thorough success, as I have shown, attended the manoeuvre, and soon after we were on board, where, after a few congratulatory words from our busy captain, I found Barkins and Smith eager to welcome me back, and quite ready to forgive me for having what they called "such a glorious lot of adventures," on account of the share they had had in the sinking and blowing up of the two pirate junks. "Yes," said Barkins, after I had told my experiences on the island, "that was all very well; but oh, my lad, you should have been here when we attacked those junks! It was glorious--wasn't it, Blacksmith?" "Lovely! But don't say any more to the poor fellow; it will only make him mad." We returned to the river, where our prisoners were landed, and we three lads had more than one spell on shore before we left that port, notably being in the city on the night of the Feast of Lanterns; but though we had several more brushes with pirates, they were all trivial affairs with small junks, the destruction of the last three being the crowning point of our achievements. Indeed, this and the sinking of another in search of which, upon excellent information, Captain Thwaites had suddenly gone after we had set out on our shooting expedition, and in which engagement Smith assured me he had greatly distinguished himself, were such blows to the piratical profession that its pursuers were stunned for the time. We remained upon the coast for another six months, and then: were ordered home, to the great delight of everybody but Ching, who parted from us all very sadly. "You think Mr Leardon like to take Ching see Queen Victolia?" he said to me one day in confidence. "I'm afraid not," I replied seriously. "Ching velly solly," he said. "Plenty lich man now! plenty plize-money! Ching wear silk evely day in Queen Victolia countly. You no tink captain take Ching?" "I'm sure he would not," I said. "Ching velly good interpleter; velly useful man." "Very; you've been a splendid fellow, Ching!" He smiled, and a fresh idea struck him. "You tink Queen Victolia like Ching teach lit' plince and plincess talk Chinese?" Again I was obliged to damp his aspirations, and he sighed. "What shall you do when we are gone, Ching?" I said. "Open fancee shop again. Sell muchee tea, basket, shell, culios, fo' Inglis people. Glow tow-chang velly long. Wait till Mr Hellick come back with jolly sailo' boy, fight pilate." And with that understanding, which was doomed never to be fulfilled, we parted. For the next morning the men were singing-- "Huzza! we're homeward bou-ou-ound. Huzza! we're homeward bound." And homeward we all--including Tom Jecks, who soon recovered from his injury--returned in safety, HMS _Teaser_ steaming gently one summer day into Plymouth Sound; and this is her log--my log--written by a boy. But that was years ago, and I'm an old boy now. THE END.