'MY BROTHER!'
The two friends sat for a long time discussing their situation. The
problem of escape was a thorny one. The yamen was at some distance from
the landing-stage, and the labyrinth of narrow ways by which Burroughs
had come to it would puzzle anybody but a Chinaman acquainted with the
town. Even if they contrived to elude the sentinels they might easily
lose their way, especially in darkness--and they had already come to the
conclusion that only by night could they hope to reach the river safely.
The appearance of two Europeans in a town where there were no European
residents would at once attract a curious crowd, and detection must be
inevitable. And the first step of all, the escape from the room in
which they were, was itself at present utterly baffling. Time was of
the utmost importance. Su Fing might return any day; it was scarcely
possible that a man whose mental powers were attested by the passing of
so many examinations would be imposed on as the simple Chung Pi had
been; and there was no knowing what summary methods he might use in
dealing with the two Englishmen to whom he owed a grudge.
Burroughs examined the bars of the window. They were so deeply imbedded
in the masonry that to loosen them within a reasonable time seemed a
hopeless undertaking. The chances of succeeding in a rush through the
doorway, when the door was opened, seemed slight. Burroughs had his
revolver; Errington was unarmed; and though Chin Tai, who was waiting
without to act as interpreter between Chung Pi and his German visitor,
had his knife, it was not very likely that Burroughs and he could
overpower the four sentinels on guard at the door. Even if they were
taken by surprise, the sound of the scuffle would quickly bring up
others from the gates and courtyards between the room and the outer
wall. The more they thought of the problem, the more thoroughly were
they convinced that violent measures were doomed to failure; they must
have recourse to stratagem. But puzzle as they might, neither had the
glimmering of a notion what the first move in the game must be.
They were so deeply immersed in talk that they did not notice the flight
of time, and both were surprised when the door was opened, and a Chinese
cook brought in their breakfast.
"Rice and beans again, I suppose!" said Errington, with a groan. "I've
had nothing else."
An idea occurred to Burroughs.
"Take care not to seem friendly with me," he said, twirling his
moustache--Reinhardt's moustache!--and turning his back on Errington
with true Germanic disdain. "Hai! Chin Tai, tell these fellows that I
demand to see the captain at once."
He had some doubt whether his demand would be acceded to, but Chung Pi
had apparently anticipated something of the sort, for one of the
sentinels called up a man from the courtyard, and sent him with the
message to the captain.
When Chung Pi appeared, it was evident that he was much amused. He
laughed as he spoke to Chin Tai.
"He say massa hab catchee too plenty muchee plison," said Chin Tai.
"It's all very well," said Burroughs, frowning haughtily. "I asked you
to arrest me, for form's sake, but I didn't say I'd agree to be starved.
Is this the fare to put before a German? It is good enough for the
Englishman, but it won't do for me."
He glanced scornfully at Errington, who, taking the cue, assumed an air
of dejection and humility.
"I am sorry," said Chung Pi contritely. "It was a mere oversight on my
part. The cook naturally provided for the second prisoner as for the
first. He did not know of the understanding between your honourable
excellency and my unworthy self. I will at once have a dinner prepared
worthy of your august eminence."
"That is well," said Burroughs. "When I have finished my meal, I shall
give myself the pleasure of showing to you the boat which lies at the
landing-stage."
"I must sleep a little first," said Chung Pi. "I have eaten so many
melon seeds that my belt is exceedingly tight."
"At any time your excellency pleases," said Burroughs, with a bow.
The captain retired, after giving orders to the cook. Presently the
servant returned, bringing a right royal feast--pickled duck's eggs,
bean curd, pork patties, chopped cucumber, millet cakes soaked in
treacle, fried cabbage--all very tastily dressed, together with water
melons and tea.
As soon as the door was shut, the two prisoners fell to with a will.
"You'll want something better than rice and beans if we're to have any
bother," said Burroughs. "This is very good; I only wish they didn't
use quite so much garlic and oil."
When they had finished their dinner, Burroughs knocked at the door, and
ordered Chin Tai, who meanwhile had had to satisfy himself with rice, to
let the captain know that he was ready. It was some time before Chung
Pi appeared, cracking and eating melon seeds. What explanation he gave
to the sentinels of his indulgence to the second prisoner, or whether he
condescended to give any explanation at all, Burroughs never knew. He
accompanied Chung Pi to the outer gate, where chairs were waiting, and
when they had entered these antiquated vehicles, each was lifted by four
chai-jen or yamen runners, and carried through crooked and unsavoury
streets, too narrow to admit of more than one passing at a time, down to
the landing-stage. Two chai-jen went in advance, clearing a way with
their sticks through the crowd. Chin Tai followed.
Lo San's face beamed at the sight of "Massa Bullows." He had begun to
fear that some mishap had befallen him, and saw another beating in
prospect.
Burroughs invited the captain to step into the hydroplane, but Chung Pi
excused himself with many apologies, regretting that the present state
of his health--by which Burroughs understood a surfeit of melon
seeds--rendered it inadvisable for him to undergo any excitement.
Leaving Chin Tai on the landing-stage, as a guarantee of good faith,
Burroughs accordingly embarked alone, and for the space of a quarter of
an hour or so exhibited the qualities of the vessel as a hydroplane,
skimming up and down the river at full speed. Its flying powers,
however, he refrained from showing.
Chung Pi was so much impressed and delighted with the marvellous vessel
that he overcame his squeamishness, and consented to try a short trip
up-stream. A few miles above the town, Burroughs caught sight of a
small launch coming down swiftly on the current, and ran up to meet it,
intending to turn and race it, with the object of still further
impressing the captain. But in a few moments Lo San, interpreting a
sentence of his passenger, informed him that the launch was one of Su
Fing's dispatch boats, and was probably bringing a message from the
chief to Chung Pi.
Feeling somewhat alarmed, Burroughs slowed down, and ran the hydroplane
alongside the launch. A sashed and turbaned officer on deck shouted a
greeting to Chung Pi, and told him that Su Fing was now on his way down
the river with the bulk of his force, and might be expected to arrive
before sunset.
"He say you velly happy this time," Lo San interpreted. "Su Fing he
come look-see boat, say he velly good, numpa one boat."
Burroughs was anything but happy. He forced a smile, but felt most
unphilosophically irritated when the ends of Reinhardt's moustache
tickled his cheeks. He listened unheeding to the monotonous voice of Lo
San translating the encomiums passed by Chung Pi on the admirable
vessel, and steered mechanically down-stream towards Meichow, whither
the captain said they must return at once in order to make preparations
for Su Fing's fitting reception. Sufficiently alive to the necessity of
sparing petrol, he did not drive the vessel at full speed, much to the
disappointment of Chung Pi, who was looking forward to a dashing
reappearance before the eyes of the thousands of admiring spectators
now, beyond doubt, congregated at the riverside.
The imminent return of Su Fing threatened to put a bar to any plan that
might be evolved for releasing Errington. As yet, think as hard as he
might, Burroughs had been quite unable to form any likely scheme. On the
way down the river he bent his brains exclusively on the problem, blind
to the probability that Chung Pi might become suspicious of his lack of
exhilaration at the prospect of a speedy meeting with the chief. The
more he puzzled, the more hopeless the situation appeared. He knew that
the coming of Su Fing would draw the whole population into the narrow
contorted alley-ways that served as streets, so that, even if he got
Errington out of the yamen, the chances of gaining the landing-stage
undetected were naught. He tried to think of some means of persuading
Chung Pi to bring Errington to the hydroplane; indeed, he ventured to
hint that it would be a fine thing to meet the chief far up the river,
and offer the prisoner to him as a sort of slave to grace his triumph.
But Chung Pi would not hear of it. He objected that the orders he had
received were strict: the Englishman was to be closely guarded; and it
was as much as his rank was worth to disobey commands so explicit.
Burroughs would not excite suspicion by pressing the point; and, indeed,
he liked the fat simpleton so well as to wish to avoid getting him into
hot water.
Thus uneasy, depressed, more nervous than he had ever been in his life
before, he was running towards the landing-stage, not giving a glance
beyond, when an exclamation from Lo San caused him to lift his eyes.
Then he saw something that shot a cold shiver through him. This was the
last straw. A quarter of a mile beyond the landing-stage, coming round
a bend in the river, was the nose of a launch which he instantly
recognized as Reinhardt's. It would reach the stage about the same time
as his own vessel. The game was up! Reinhardt was certainly on board;
the launch had never been seen on the river without him. He would
certainly betray the pseudo-German. There had never been any love lost
between them. They had parted in anger. And with a man of Reinhardt's
temperament the "rape of the lock," the explanation of which would flash
upon him the moment he caught sight of it adorning Burroughs' lip, would
supply the fiercest motive for revenge.
Burroughs turned his head away from Chung Pi; he could no longer keep up
the forced smile, which he felt must have become an awful grimace.
Always a little slow of thought, he did not remember, for a moment or
two, that in his story to Chung Pi he had unwittingly provided himself
with an avenue of safety. All at once the recollection flashed upon
him: he was Lieutenant Eitel Reinhardt, of the gunboat _Kaiser Wilhelm_.
The moustacheless German was his brother!
"My brother! my brother!" he shouted excitedly.
Lo San looked at him in amazement. Was his master mad? Then he, too,
remembered.
"My honourable master's brother," he exclaimed to Chung Pi.
The captain's broad face gleamed with interest and satisfaction. This
new arrival was the very man who had arranged the gifts for Su Fing,
whom his brother had so unfortunately missed, of whose money he himself
had a hundred dollars safely tucked into his pouch.
"Brothers are as double cherries," he said. "The coming of your august
relative is as the shining of the morning sun on the closed petals of a
rose."
Burroughs bowed as Lo San translated, feeling that another word would
make him shout with maniacal laughter. With a turn of the wrist he ran
the boat alongside the landing-stage, just a second or two before the
launch came up at the farther end. With Chung Pi he stepped off,
observing that Reinhardt was standing at his gangway, waiting for his
heavier and more cumbersome vessel to be brought alongside. And almost
wishing that the planks might part, and plunge him into the water and
oblivion, he walked forward to meet his fate.