Throughout the greater part of the morning the pursuit continued without
the _sampan_ gaining upon the larger boat. Indeed, when they had sailed
a few miles towards the east it became apparent to Ling that they were
losing ground, that the distance between the two boats was gradually
becoming greater.
The man was infuriated. He stood at his great height in the bows of the
_sampan_ from time to time, shaking his fist at the scarlet coat of
Men-Ching, who was plainly visible upon the deck of the river-junk.
After a time, however, Ling's wrath subsided; and seating himself, he
confined his attention to the management of the sail. Frank, who was in
the stern of the boat, had received orders to steer.
Ling shrugged his great shoulders and came out with a kind of grunt.
"He shall not escape me," said he, talking aloud to himself. "The old
fool would be wiser to haul down the sail of the _wupan_ and throw
himself upon my mercy."
Frank, summoning to his aid all his moral courage, decided to question
the man outright, taking the bull by the horns.
"Why do you want this man Men-Ching?" he asked.
Ling looked up, lifting his black eyebrows, and then chuckled.
"Men-Ching carries upon his person certain letters," said he. "I would
have you to know that those letters are worth thousands of dollars."
Frank Armitage was so much astonished that it was some moments before he
could recover his presence of mind. How was this man, of all people, in
possession of such information? Ling was certainly not a member of
Cheong-Chau's brigand band. It was only a week before that Men-Ching
had been entrusted with the letters--indeed, he had not been given
possession of them until immediately after they were written. The whole
thing was a mystery that Frank was in no position to solve.
Sitting amidships in the boat, the man continued to chuckle.
"I will find him in Canton," said he. "He is certain to go to the house
of Ah Wu. There I will find him. I will take possession of those
letters. A score of men could not prevent me. If Men-Ching hands them
over quietly all will be well. If he resists, I cannot say what will
happen." And Ling shrugged his shoulders.
Frank was dismayed. It took him some time to realise the extreme
gravity of the situation. There was something in the aspect of the
boisterous Honanese giant, seated immediately before him, that made the
boy feel quite sure that Ling seldom failed in any enterprise he
undertook. The man was at once clever, strong and unscrupulous. He
meant to obtain those letters, and Frank felt quite sure that he would
not fail to do so.
That brought the boy face to face with the fact that the lives of his
uncle and Mr Waldron were in the greatest danger. Ling no doubt
intended to appropriate the ransom, thus foiling Cheong-Chau. In these
circumstances, there could be but little doubt that the brigand chief,
robbed of what he already regarded as his own property, would put both
his captives to death out of sheer fiendish spite.
Frank could not for the life of him think what course he should take.
His brain was in a whirl. In the end he decided that at any cost he
must escape from Ling the moment they arrived at Canton, where he hoped
to gain an interview with the British consul.
Throughout the remainder of the journey the boy's thoughts ran
continuously upon the mystery in which he found himself enveloped. He
could not explain it, and after a time he gave up attempting to do so.
He neither knew who Ling was nor how the man had such intimate knowledge
of Cheong-Chau's affairs. He regretted bitterly that he had rendered
Ling such valuable assistance. He was, however, determined never to do
so again, and during the pursuit down the river he even went so far as
to hold the _sampan_ back by means of the oar with which he was supposed
to be steering. All the time he was doing so his heart was beating
rapidly, since he dared not think what would happen to him if Ling
discovered his deception.
When they reached the great city of Canton it was still early in the
morning. Ling hauled down the sail and himself took charge of the stern
oar, by means of which he propelled the boat into the narrow creek that
separates the main part of the city from the island of Shamien. Running
into the bank alongside a sea-going junk, he ordered Frank to step
ashore. The boy did so, determined to avail himself of his first chance
to escape. In such narrow, close-packed streets as those of the great
southern city, he thought he would have many opportunities of giving
Ling the slip. He did not expect any difficulty in getting away, since
he had no reason to believe that Ling required his services any longer.
Frank--as the saying goes--had counted his chickens before they were
hatched. They had not progressed thirty yards along one of the main
streets of the city before Frank dived down a side street, brushed past
a party of coolies, and then turned into a still smaller street to the
right. There he found a ricksha. Jumping into this, he ordered the
ricksha coolie to go ahead as fast as he could. The man had picked up
the shafts, and was about to set forward, when Frank was seized by the
scruff of the neck and lifted bodily from the seat. He was then thrown
so violently to the ground that one of his knees was cut and his elbows
badly bruised.
Gathering himself together, he looked up, and found himself at the feet
of Ling.
"Do you take me for a fool?" roared the man. "Why have you run away?"
"I did not think," answered the boy, somewhat weakly, "that you needed
me any longer."
"No more I do," said Ling. "But you know too much about me. When I
have run Men-Ching to ground, and emptied the old rascal's pockets, then
you are free to go where you like. For the present you remain with me."
He bent down, and seizing the boy by a wrist, dragged him to his feet.
Then he set off walking briskly through the narrow streets, dragging the
boy after him like a dog on a leash and roughly thrusting aside everyone
who got in his way.
In about ten minutes they found themselves in the neighbourhood of the
Mohammedan Mosque. Having crossed the main street that runs parallel to
the river, Ling turned into a by-street, and thence into the blind
alley, at the termination of which was Ah Wu's opium den.
He kicked open the door with his foot and thrust the boy inside. Frank
found himself standing before the embroidered curtains that were
suspended across the entrance of the smoking-room. Ling lifted his
great voice in a kind of shout, mingling his words with triumphant
laughter.
"Ah Wu," he cried, "give welcome to a visitor who loves you. There is
one here whom it will rejoice your heart to see. Come forth, old fox,
and greet the mighty Ling!"
Having delivered himself thus dramatically, he flung the curtains aside,
and stepped into the opium den, dragging Frank with him.
Ah Wu, as fat and crafty-looking as ever, stood in the centre of the
lower room in front of the stairs that led to the balcony above.
He was holding in his hand a blue china bowl filled with _samshu_. And
so dismayed was he when he set eyes upon his gigantic guest that the
bowl fell from his hand and smashed to atoms on the floor.
"Ling!" he gasped.
"The same," roared Ling. "And this time I come not to debate and argue,
to exchange words with liars. I come for Men-Ching. I have reason to
believe that he is here."
Ah Wu strove to pretend he was delighted to welcome Ling. He smiled
from ear to ear, his little eyes almost disappearing in the fat of his
face. He bowed, folding his hands in the prescribed Chinese fashion. He
even took a few steps forward, so that he was almost within reach of the
long arms of the Honanese.
"Men-Ching," said he, still smiling, "is not here."
And no sooner had the words left his lips than he was given a practical
and somewhat painful demonstration of the violent character of the man
with whom he had to deal. Upon the right of the entrance, adorned by
the embroidered curtains, was a lacquer table, upon which stood a heavy
china vase. Without a word of warning, Ling seized this vase by the
neck, and hurled it with all his force at the proprietor of the opium
den. The ornament must have weighed several pounds, and it struck Ah Wu
fair in the chest, with the result that he went over backwards and lay,
stretched at his full length, at the foot of the staircase. Almost a
minute elapsed before he struggled to his feet. Ling had not moved.
"And now," he roared, "lie to me again."
In the meantime, in spite of such extraordinary happenings, Frank had
taken in his surroundings. Ah Wu's opium den has been already
described--except that we saw it before at night, when the place was
crowded. On this occasion there was only one man asleep upon a couch in
the lower room. It was about twelve o'clock in the morning, and at this
hour, as a general rule, Chinese opium dens are empty, the smokers of
the previous evening having departed and the day's customers not having
arrived.
Strangely enough, the vase had not broken, but in falling to the floor
it had made a considerable noise, and this was sufficient to awaken the
sleeper, who evidently suffered from a guilty conscience. The man
sprang to his feet, and rushed to the entrance, as if he intended to
escape. There, of course, he found his way barred by Ling, who lifted
one of his huge fists as if to strike the fellow. The man jumped
backward like a cat that finds itself face to face with a dog. And it
was then, once again, that Ling burst into one of his boisterous fits of
laughter.
"And here's the flunkey!" he cried. "Here's the Hong-Kong cur-dog! Have
you also a mind to lie to me, or do you set a value on your life? I tell
you truly, I am not here to exchange words. I know what I want, and I
am come to get it. Hands up!" he shouted, seeing the man move one of
his hands to his waistbelt, under his coat, where he might have carried
a firearm. "Hands up, or I wring your neck like a duck!"
In fear and trembling the man lifted both hands above his head. Frank
regarded him then for the first time. And it was as if the boy's heart
had suddenly ceased to beat when he recognised Yung How, his uncle's
servant.