A LITTLE LUNCHEON PARTY
"What's the row, Pidge?" asked Burroughs, when the sentinels and Chin
Tai had been dismissed, and the door closed behind them.
"Oh, he'd been telling a heap of lies, and when he started abusing you,
I knocked him down."
Reinhardt started when he heard Burroughs speak in his natural voice.
The disguise as it were fell off: his vague misgiving was justified; the
cropped hair, the thickened eyebrows, the upturned moustache, no longer
imposed upon him, and he writhed in his bonds.
Burroughs gave him a contemptuous stare.
"I don't care, personally," he said very quietly, "what lies you tell
about me. There never has been any love lost between us. All I regret
is that, among Chinamen, I should have had to treat a European--even
such a European as you are--with such indignity. But you've brought it
on yourself. You're a dangerous man. You're in league with these
rebels; I know it, you needn't protest; in spite of that, in spite of my
appeal to you, you wouldn't move a finger in Errington's behalf. I must
treat you as an enemy--a secret enemy, and take the precautions that fit
the case. Errington and I have matters to discuss, and owing to the
action of your friends the rebels, we have to discuss them here. Your
company has been forced upon us, so I'll take the liberty of relieving
you from the necessity of overhearing our conversation."
"I protest," the German began, blusteringly. "I don't want to hear your
conversation. Speak in ze corner; whisper."
Burroughs paid him no attention, but opened the door and called to Chin
Tai.
"Stuff up Mr. Reinhardt's ears," he said.
Chin Tai produced a dirty rag from the pouch at his waist.
"No, not that," said Errington impulsively. "Haven't you a handkerchief,
Ted?"
Burroughs gave his handkerchief to the Chinaman, who tore it in strips,
and rolled up two wads which he placed in the German's ears.
"Wait outside, and let me know if the captain comes."
As soon as the door was shut, Burroughs took Errington to the window.
"The position's this, old man," he said. "Su Fing is coming down river.
It's all up with us if he finds us here. Reinhardt won't stick at a
trifle. We must get away somehow or other before evening. How it's to
be done beats me."
"Where did you go when you left me?"
"I showed off the boat to Chung Pi. He'd eaten so many melon seeds that
he wouldn't venture on board at first; but I got him on after a bit. I
only did it to heighten my importance. It was when we were going
up-stream that we met a launch of Su Fing's, and heard that the chief
would be here to-night."
"You didn't fly?"
"No. Chung Pi is sure to have heard of the flying boat, and he'd have
smelt a rat. Why?"
"I've just had an idea," said Errington eagerly.
"Gently, old chap. I'm not at all sure that Reinhardt can't hear if you
raise your voice. What is it?"
In a low tone, but with great animation, Errington explained the plan
which had suddenly suggested itself. For some time the two discussed it
together. It was a strange conversation, conducted under the eyes of
the German, glaring at them as he lay fierce and helpless on the floor.
They were interrupted by the entrance of the cook man bringing the
midday meal. It was a generous repast; the cook had taken a hint from
what happened at breakfast-time, and provided food in even greater
variety than before. Burroughs and Errington took their chop-sticks and
sat on the floor in front of the pots and pans. Errington glanced at
Reinhardt.
"We can't feed while he goes hungry," he said.
"Speak for yourself," said Burroughs. "I've not the slightest
objection."
"But they've brought grub for him. He'd better have his share."
"Just like you! All right; but he'll be a sort of skeleton at the
feast."
"A substantial skeleton! He won't depress me. But it's a rummy go,
when you come to think of it."
Burroughs went to the German and released him.
"Some of this food is for you," he said, speaking close to Reinhardt's
ear. "Errington suggests that you should join us."
He went back to his place beside Errington. For some seconds Reinhardt
made no movement beyond sitting up and stretching himself, with a sullen
stare at Burroughs. Then either the matter-of-fact consideration that
he was hungry, or something in the humour of the situation, caused him
to banish his sulks. He crossed the room, and squatted heavily opposite
the Englishmen.
"Whatever happens to any of us, this is certainly the last time we three
are likely to have a meal together," said Errington.
The situation was certainly novel. Men have sat down at table with
murder in their hearts; quarrels have arisen at the board; but it is not
common for two men to eat with a third whom one has just knocked down,
and whose moustache the other is wearing.
There was naturally a constraint upon the party--upon Errington more
particularly, for he could not forget that he had once been Reinhardt's
friend, nor that he owed him money. He might suspect that the German
had cheated him, but a debt is a debt. Yet to eat in silence was
impossible, and presently Burroughs broke the ice.
"Have some of this," he said to Reinhardt, looking into one of the pans.
"I beg pardon," said Reinhardt. "I am a little hard of hearing."
The Englishmen glanced at each other.
"Better go the whole hog and do it decently while we are about it," said
Errington.
"Perhaps you can do something to cure yourself," said Burroughs in a
loud tone to the German.
Reinhardt removed the wads from his ears, and looking at them doubtfully
for a moment, laid them down on the floor beside him.
"Zanks," he said. "Now I am all attention."
"Not at all," said Burroughs. "Have some of this--I don't know what it
is."
He ladled a sort of stew on to Reinhardt's plate. For a few moments
there was silence as they plied their chop-sticks. Then Reinhardt,
glancing up under his eyebrows, said gravely--
"I zink it is chow--puppy-dog, you know."
The others held their chop-sticks suspended.
"I'll try something else," said Burroughs, looking suspiciously into
another pan.
"In China one must not inquire too much," the German went on. "One must
have faith. Once I was at an inn, deep in ze country. I demand dinner;
zey say zere is none. Naturally I must have dinner, and I command ze
innkeeper very loud. Zat is effective. Soon he bring me a
ragout--excellent; I eat it wiz gusto. Afterwards I discover it is
rats."
The Englishmen's faces expressed their disgust, and again there was
silence.
"China is a great country for rats," said Errington lamely.
"Zat is true; zere are rats all up ze Yang-tse."
"Water-rats," suggested Burroughs.
"So; four legs--and two," said the German.
"Tails--and pigtails," said Burroughs.
"I make a study of zem all."
"My boy says that rats' whiskers are lucky," said Errington after a
pause.
"White rats!" added Burroughs.
Reinhardt's eyelids flickered. He seemed to avert his gaze with an
effort from Burroughs' moustache.
"I zink he is perhaps mistaken," he said.
Then he appeared to feel that he was skating on thin ice, towards a
danger-mark. An observant onlooker might have discovered a resemblance
between these three men, talking so quietly over their meal, and
fencers, warily feeling for each other, but careful not to engage. Each
was trying to "make" conversation, and found, almost in spite of
himself, that it trended towards the personal. Reinhardt, the keenest
and most experienced of the three, was the first to feel the tendency,
and to attempt to divert it.
"Ze Chinese," he went on, "zey are very superstitious. Zey believe in
spells and charms, zings which Europe dismissed hundred years ago, and
more. Zey talk always of luck."
"Don't you see that men make their own luck," said Burroughs.
"Perhaps, but not at cards," said Reinhardt. "Zat is skill." He pulled
himself up suddenly. "Ze Chinese are indeed extremely skilful. As you
English say, zey will catch a weasel asleep."
"And skin him!" said Errington artlessly.
"I have heard of that too," said Burroughs, catching Reinhardt's eyes
again fixed on his moustache.
"Is zere any more cabbage?" asked the German, bending forward over the
pan.
"No, but there is some parsley," replied Burroughs, in best phrase-book
style; and a minute or two afterwards the meal and the difficult
conversation came to an end together.
During the pauses each of the party had been busily thinking: Burroughs
and Errington of the scheme which they had partially discussed,
Reinhardt of the extraordinary circumstances in which he found himself.
For once, at any rate, the German felt that he had no trumps. He saw
through Burroughs' imposture; and he was pretty sure that the moustache
which had fascinated his eyes during the meal was his own. Inwardly
boiling with indignation and outraged vanity, he was sportsman enough to
enter into the spirit of the situation so far as speech was concerned;
his brain was cogitating an exemplary vengeance, and he hugged himself
with the thought that the hour of revenge was at hand. The apparent
coolness of the Englishmen amazed him. With Su Fing already on his way
down the river, their heads were as good as gone. Yet nobody watching
them, or listening to their talk, could ever have imagined that their
lives hung on a thread.
At the conclusion of the meal, Burroughs said politely--
"I regret the necessity of tying you up again."
"And I," said the German, with equal courtesy, though his eyes were
blazing, "I regret to be ze cause of so much trouble."
Burroughs called in his servant and the sentinels, and by their hands
Reinhardt was again bound. Chin Tai caught sight of the ear-wads lying
beside the German's plate.
"He wantchee he 'nother time all-same?" he asked his master.
"Your conversation--is it not finished?" the German interposed. "One is
incomplete wizout ears."
"I'm afraid you must remain incomplete for a while," said Burroughs.
"Put them in, Chin Tai; then tell those fellows they can clear away the
food and eat what's left. I want you."
As soon as the door was closed behind the guard, Burroughs took
Errington and Chin Tai to the window, and the three remained for some
minutes in earnest conversation.
"Now," said Burroughs at last to the servant, "you know what you have to
do. First of all, cut off to the captain; he has finished his luncheon
by this time--and say that I request the honour of waiting upon him on a
matter of great urgency."
"Allo lightee, sah; my talkee he allo plopa."
And he went with an air of much self-importance to fulfil his errand,
reflecting with a chuckle that Lo San was out of this.