It was, with Ling, something in the nature of a pose to speak after the
fashion of the scholars, using the flowery language of the writers of
poesy, or quoting the philosophical maxims of the sages. None the less,
the moment he entered the opium den, though he spoke of other things, it
was apparent both to Frank Armitage and Yung How that Ling had detected
the fact that they were about to make their escape.
In his customary boisterous manner, the great Honanese ushered them into
the room. Ascending the stairs, he sprawled at full length upon the
couch upon which Frank had been seated but a few moments before, when
Yung How made his confession.
"At last," said Ling, "Cheong-Chau and myself are to meet. He knows me
of old. This will not be the first time that I have snatched the ripe
fruit from his mouth. Cheong-Chau has no cause to love me. I have
heard it said that he regards me as his deadly enemy, the only man who
ever foiled him."
He puffed at the opium pipe which Ah Wu had brought him. The amount of
the drug that the man consumed was extraordinary, and moreover, it
seemed to have very little effect upon either his physical or mental
constitution. As he sent thin clouds of blue smoke upward to the
ceiling, in the close, stifling atmosphere of the room, he half closed
his eyes, and appeared to be lost in his thoughts.
"Well," said he, "I have no fear of Cheong-Chau and all his rascals. I
shall win. There is little doubt as to that. The wolf cannot stand
before the tiger. Therefore you would be wise to side with me. If the
wolf shows his teeth, he goes the way of Men-Ching. And thither go all
who oppose me. For your own guidance, I advise you to remember this."
He opened his eyes and fixed them upon Yung How, who stood at hand. Yung
How did not flinch. He was as calm and dignified as usual. Indeed, for
a few moments only had Frank seen him otherwise, and then he had
appeared absolutely carried away by anguish and remorse. It occurred to
Frank how strange it was that a man who, as a general rule, was
outwardly so calm and collected should be capable of such deep-seated
and demonstrative emotion. However, the Chinese are an inexplicable
race, as Frank knew well enough. He regarded Yung How, and was
delighted to observe that the man never faltered in his honest
resolution before the steady, piercing gaze of the implacable Honanese.
"I desire to know," said Ling, "where you two were going as I chanced to
enter."
Yung How did not answer a word. He continued to look Ling straight in
the face.
"Very well," said Ling, "you need not tell me. I have a shrewd
suspicion that you were up to no good. I shall take the necessary
precautions and ask you, for the sake of your own welfare, to remember
my warning."
He disposed himself as if for sleep, throwing back his head upon the
pillow. Ah Wu busied himself about the establishment, entertaining his
guests, of whom there were now many, and seeing that his assistants went
about their duties. As for Frank and Yung How, they lay down upon
couches on the balcony, the former because he was thoroughly tired, and
felt that he required a rest.
Suddenly Ling sat up, and cried out that he was hungry. Shouting down
into the room below, he ordered one of Ah Wu's men to bring him food,
and then turned to Yung How.
"And you shall wait on me," he declared. "I have heard it said that you
have a great reputation in Hong-Kong, that you squeeze even ricksha
coolies for copper cash and make more money than a comprador. You shall
attend to my wants; and when I have eaten all that I desire, you
shall--as I promised you--wash up the bowls and plates."
Presently one of Ah Wu's assistants mounted the staircase, carrying in
his hands a large tray upon which was a number of Chinese dishes. The
tray was set down upon a small table at which Yung How was ordered to
preside, handing the mighty Ling whatever dish he might call for.
Now Yung How had made up his mind to escape, and even as he waited upon
Ling he took careful stock of his surroundings. He knew that he could
not rely upon any help from Ah Wu, who was now hand and glove with the
Honanese. He had noticed that Ah Wu had locked the back door, putting
the key in one of his pockets. There was a clock in the room, towards
which Yung How repeatedly carried his eyes. It was twenty minutes to
eight. Yung How had, indeed, very little time if he was to make good
his escape and catch the Hong-Kong boat. He could not very well cross
the room, and go out by the main entrance, because Ling would certainly
see him and follow in pursuit. The man was beginning to despair when he
observed a window at the farther end of the balcony.
This window was closed, but it might be possible to open it. Also,
since the floor of the lower room was somewhat below the level of the
street, the window could not be far from the ground. The difficulty
that confronted Yung How was how to reach the window without arousing
the suspicions of Ling.
Now Yung How, like the majority of his countrymen, was by no means
devoid of inventive powers. The Chinaman is an adept at finding an
excuse, and it must be confessed that the device of Yung How was
ingenious.
In handing a small bowl of rice to Ling, the man purposely knocked over
the small opium spirit-lamp which stood burning upon the table by the
side of the couch upon which Ling was lying. This nearly resulted in a
general conflagration that might have destroyed the whole establishment.
The oil ran out, and set fire to the dry matting with which the floors
were carpeted; and this burned like tinder-wood, the fire running with
rapidity along the balcony and filling the whole place with smoke.
Ling, springing to his feet, utilised one of the cushions of the couch
to smother the fire. Frank was not slow to follow his example, and Ah
Wu and several men from the lower room, hastening up the steps, resorted
to various means to quench the fire, or at least to hold it in check.
For the best part of a minute the whole place was uproar and confusion.
Those who were already asleep from the effects of opium were awakened by
cries of "Fire!" One or two in alarm left the establishment by the main
entrance, spreading the report in the city that Ah Wu's opium den had
actually been burned to the ground.
Long before that Yung How had made the most of his opportunity. At the
moment when the danger was most imminent, when the attention of both
Ling and Ah Wu was fully engaged, the man passed unseen to the window,
which he opened. Leaning over the sill and looking down, he satisfied
himself that it was not more than twelve feet to the ground. As quick
as thought he crawled through, hung for a moment at the full extent of
his arms, and then dropped to the street. Instantly he set off running
as fast as he could in the direction of Shamien.
When the fire was extinguished, Ling gave vent to his feelings, cursing
Yung How for his carelessness and folly. However, he had not unburdened
himself of more than a few sentences when, to his astonishment and
indescribable wrath, he discovered that Yung How was gone. Seeing the
opened window, he rushed to it, and looked out. Beyond there was nothing
but darkness, an unlighted by-street, not more than two or three yards
in width.
Ling descended the stairs like an infuriated tiger. Quite suddenly he
came to a halt in the middle of the room. Thence he returned up the
staircase, four steps at a time, at the top of which he encountered
Frank. He seized the boy by the throat, and then, lifting him off his
feet, tucked him under an arm, as a man might carry a hen.
He again descended the stairs, unlocked the door of the little room,
threw the boy inside, and locked the door upon him. A moment later, he
was in the street, rushing forward at such a tempestuous rate that he
cleared all obstructions from his path. He thrust an empty ricksha
aside with such violence that he broke the shafts. He knocked over
three men: a fat old merchant, a beggar, and a blind man. He killed a
duck by crushing it underfoot, and finding his way barred by a pig, he
picked it up and threw it over a wall, the animal squealing in terror.
Gaining the narrow creek that separates Shamien from the main part of
the city, Ling dashed across the bridge of boats. That night the few
Europeans who were walking along the _bund_ in front of the hotel and
the club beheld the remarkable apparition of a Chinese giant who charged
forward like a madman, his long pigtail flying out behind him, making in
the direction of the harbour.
On a sudden, Ling stopped dead. His headlong course had been arrested
by a peculiar sound, or rather combination of sounds, the explanation of
which was not difficult to seek. There was the shrill whistle of a
siren and the sound of large paddles violently thrashing the water.
Almost at once, the Hong-Kong boat hove in sight. The decks were ablaze
with light. Upon the bridge, Ling could distinguish both the Chinese
pilot and the English captain.
"Hi!" he shouted. "I have missed the ship. If you slow down and lower
a rope I can come on board from a _sampan_."
He spoke in excellent English. There is no doubt that the captain both
heard and understood him, for Ling received his answer.
"Too late, my friend!" shouted the captain. "We sail to time, and if
you're not here it's your own fault. You'll have to wait till
to-morrow--eight o'clock in the morning."
Ling's answer was neither in the English language nor at the top of his
voice. It was in Cantonese, and as a matter of fact it cannot be
translated. And if it could be translated, no one would print it. For
Ling had not failed to observe Yung How, standing alone upon the upper
deck.