THE MISSION OF STEPHEN POYNING
For the better part of a minute my tongue simply refused duty. I could
no more than stand and gape, while the blood buzzed in my ears and the
dim-lit doorway of Philipson's room seemed to rock sideways. Like words
spoken in a dream I heard Philipson demand what was up, and Ah Sing's
quaint pidgin-English as he panted out his version of the story.
Philipson started back as if he had been struck. His face was in
shadow, but I had an impression that his features were working, the
way of a man not quite in command of himself. That lasted for only
a few seconds, however. When he spoke again it was in the brisk,
matter-of-fact tones he would have used to order a fresh can of
lubricant for the launch.
'Odd,' he muttered. 'Odd, and nasty in the extreme! God knows who those
people could have been. I had reckoned with a native organisation,
Mirlees, but nothing more. If there are Europeans in it too--'
'Then it--'
I broke off suddenly. Neither then nor thereafter could I imagine what
it was, but something from outside myself seemed to close my lips
by force, and there came down over my brain a most uncanny sense of
hesitation and bewilderment.
We had all three rushed out on to the verandah, and stood listening,
peering out and around in every direction. There was no sound, no sign
of movement anywhere; the creek lay like a riband of orange-tinted
silver in the staring moonlight, from Nanking itself came scarcely a
murmur of noise. It was the short hour when even a vast Chinese city is
quiet between the clamour of two days.
Ah Sing kept watch for the rest of that night, but there was hardly
need--I remained vividly awake myself every minute of the time. In the
morning I rose so utterly limp that Philipson diagnosed fever from the
mosquitoes--which had bitten us both pretty voraciously--and dosed
me with a quinine mixture into which I suspect he had dropped some
pleasant opiate. At any rate, it wiped the restlessness out of me as if
with a sponge, and I slept sound till lunch.
But if I was below par, Philipson himself seemed at the very pitch of
his form, alert, vigorous, in the best of spirits. He busied himself
at the table with maps and calculations and expense-sheets, and from
an occasional remark he rapped out to me I knew he was in a downright
itch for the hour of Poyning's return. The one thing that seemed equal
to allaying his impatience during that day of forced delay was wine.
Saunders Philipson consumed, I believe, seven bottles between breakfast
and dinner time, and the proprietress was already predicting the
exhaustion of her modest cellar.
Neither Philipson nor I alluded once to the episode of last night,
yet I fancy it was in the thoughts of both of us. From time to time
throughout the day he would shoot sudden glances towards the balcony,
as if the affair had occurred to his mind; and I couldn't help
connecting his overpowering excitement of to-day with what had happened
in the night watches. For my part, I could think of little else. That
two strangers should have gained access to the verandah without our
hearing them approach was hardly less a matter for surprise than alarm.
An active man might, it's true, have shinned up the wooden pillars and
drawn his accomplice after him with a cord, yet even this supposition
seemed wild enough to me when I remembered that one of the intruders
was a woman. Or at least, I could have sworn at the time that it was
a woman. Could it be the whole thing was an illusion--that I was half
asleep when I looked out, and that my dreaming eyes had turned some
short-coated Chinaman into Saunders Philipson and his taller accomplice
into that mysterious lady of the long robe? If so, it was an astounding
coincidence that both Ah Sing and myself should fall into the same
remarkable error. Then again, who were these prowlers of the night?
It wasn't like the enemies we had known--to be scared off by the mere
sound of our voices, yet that alone is what could have happened. While
we were talking at Philipson's door, they must have taken fright and
escaped down the balcony pillars and right round the hotel by way of
the water's edge. This might even have been done with the connivance
of those inside, and there recurred rather significantly to my mind
Philipson's remark that the proprietress of the inn would want watching.
Altogether, it was about as dark and mysterious a business as you could
well conceive, and I was glad, after tiffin, of a relief from puzzling
over it any longer. Philipson began to communicate his plans to me, to
outline the route he proposed we should take, and to go into details
of equipment, service and cost. As I listened to his quiet, confident
words and followed the lines he drew across the map with such assurance
and evidently first-hand knowledge of the country it represented,
my own nerves forsook me, and before long I felt as confident and
enthusiastic as himself. That was always the way with Saunders
Philipson. His enthusiasm was more than contagious, it was epidemic;
and he seemed to be gifted with so keen a zest of life that he spoke
with enthusiasm of any subject he judged worth speaking about at all.
We dared not go out of the inn, of course, or even away from our wing
of it. Meals were brought up to the sitting room, while Ah Sing fed
himself in the cabin of the launch. The engineer-cook had come for
orders that morning, and I could see that he, like myself, preserved
an uneasy recollection of last night. There was fear in his eyes, the
vague terror of a man who is frightened of something to which he cannot
give a name; and it was not until Philipson took him by the shoulders
and shook him and ordered him with fatherly severity not to be a
gaping fool that the normal grin of adoration came back into Ah Sing's
face. Then he went about his business and took, as I thought, a sound
common-sense refuge from his terrors in hard work. Whenever I looked
down from our verandah during the day I saw Ah Sing pottering to and
fro with broom and rag, scouring the already speckless launch till she
shone again.
I turned in after dinner for a little sleep against the watches we were
to stand through the night. This programme of Philipson's we carried
out, but with no recurrence of the alarm. Ah Sing remained on guard
on the deck of the launch till one, then came up to wake Philipson,
who stood a trick till four, rousing me at that hour to see us safely
through the twilit marches of dawn. At about half-past six o'clock I
was putting on a last pipe before breakfast when I heard a step along
the landing, and Philipson entered my room.
'If he has succeeded,' he burst out abruptly, 'he will be here at any
minute, and we shall start to-night with the fall of dusk. If not--'
'You think he's likely to have failed?'
'Honestly, I do not. I liked that boy from the moment I set eyes on
him. That is why I took the trouble to verify his pretensions. I had
collected all the available information about Stephen Poyning within
five minutes of seeing him.'
Philipson stepped out through my window and walked to the end of the
verandah, where it was blocked in by a cheek of brick wall. He peeped
stealthily round the angle, then started back.
'Coming!' he muttered.
I took Philipson's place and a peep for myself. From this point a
stretch of the winding creekside road into the city was visible, and
along it, at a distance, I saw a ricsha approach at the walk. In it sat
a huddled figure I recognised as Stephen Poyning. The road was already
crowded with native traffic, but as I continued to look I noticed
another ricsha, about a hundred yards farther off, which seemed to be
keeping the first in sight and regulating its pace so as to remain at
an even lapse behind.
'He's being followed,' I said.
Philipson pulled me away and stared eagerly round the angle of the
building. For a few moments he watched, intently silent, and when he
drew back it was with an expression of mingled seriousness and relief.
'You recognise the man behind?' he queried.
I took a closer look. 'Eh? Isn't it--'
'Lo Eng. My number-one boy. Something has gone awry. Also, Poyning is
hurt--there is a bandage under that topee of his.'
We stepped back into the sitting room, where Philipson swiftly laid out
a small surgical outfit and summoned a servant, bidding him fetch hot
water. The boy who brought it had hardly disappeared when there were
heavy, ill-guided steps on the stairs without, and Poyning, pale as a
corpse, his pongees plastered with mud and dust, staggered in. He set
down a suitcase he was carrying, wincingly removed his helmet, and sank
into a chair.
Philipson laid a gentle hand on his shoulder. 'Not a word, young man,'
he said, 'till I have plugged that hole in your head.'
Poyning's white features broke into a drawn grin. 'Bacchus before
Æsculapius, my dear sir,' he said. 'Give me a drink!'
I mixed him a stiff champagne and brandy, which he swallowed at a
go, and then Philipson, with the speed and firm skill of a surgeon
and more than a woman's tenderness, bathed and dressed an ugly gash
over the boy's forehead. He lay back for some moments with his eyes
closed, while a spot of colour came slowly into his cheeks; then sat up
and demanded a cigarette, which having received and lighted, Stephen
Poyning plunged without further ado into his tale. Lo Eng had meanwhile
entered the room. Philipson pointed to a chair, on the edge of which he
sat, demurely listening.
'I reached Shanghai North Station at about half-past seven yesterday
morning,' began Poyning. 'If there was one native watching the gates,
there were a dozen, but these people all seemed to be there on
legitimate business--I certainly saw no sign of any of them following
me. I got to the Marco Polo Hotel in the unobtrusive manner prescribed
by you, cleaned off the travel stains, took nourishment, invited the
manager to my room, and settled Mirlees' debt. The manager seemed, if
I may say so, relieved to see his money. The instructions regarding
your manuscripts, Mirlees, have been carried out to the letter, and
your other treasures are stored in the warehouse next door; here are
the keys, and the receipts for your chattels and your accommodation
charges. Here, Philipson, are receipted bills for the chronometer
and sextant, which you will find in that suit case--intact, I trust,
though it must be confessed they received some brusque jolts during
the later developments of my adventure. Here is the letter of credit
on Chungking, which the manager of the Cathay Bank made out in his
private sanctum and handed to me with very excellent good luck to you,
Philipson, and a hope that the inquiries from your well-wishers in
Shanghai would not prove too searching. I did not, to be candid, know
what in Hades he was driving at, but I winked in the sophisticated
manner of one who did, and the genial financier seemed very well
satisfied.'
Philipson whistled softly. We exchanged glances.
'I pass,' resumed Poyning, 'to the really momentous phase of the
expedition.
'I left the hotel at half-past eight, when twilight was falling--as the
late Tennyson sang--and reached the fair pleasaunces of Bubbling Well
about half an hour afterwards. Here I dismissed my ricsha-coolie, much
to his chagrin--it was ten minutes, in fact, before I could shake the
ardent fellow off--and loitered along waiting for a suitable person to
ask my way. This took some time, as all the white community seemed to
be at mess, and I deemed it impolitic to seek guidance from a native.
At last I got the required direction, and struck out on foot. I had
not marched far down the New Highgate Road before I saw that I was
followed. It was a Chinese, a pretty well-nourished subject of medium
stature, who dogged my steps, keeping about twenty yards behind. He
made no attempt to conceal himself, and when I drew up short, came
straight on.
'"You wanchee find some housum dis road?" he said, debonairly enough.
"My gib you look-a-look anybody housum. My sabbee anybody housum allee
same-same."
'"Very obliging of you," I said, "but who might you be?"
'"My b'long Misser Philipson numbah-one boy," he said. "Him housum burn
down so my no hab housum lib jus' now."'
Philipson whistled again, louder.
'"You sabbee Misser Philipson?" continued my would-be cicerone. "You
sabbee where him gone jus' now?"
'"Never heard of him," I said. "What's your name?"
'"My b'long all same Lo Eng," replied the fellow, with an expansion of
his already wide mouth. "My wanchee sabbee where master hab gone. Jus'
now no can tell him him housum burn down."
'Well, gentlemen, God knows I am no purist, but I could not bring
myself to regard that man's conversational style as good English--which
you told me Lo Eng spoke. He had given the name correctly, true, but
I remained profoundly unsatisfied with his bona fides. I got rid of
him, strode on down the road, and soon came to a house which had been
gutted. Yes, alas, Philipson, it was only too true. Standing guard in
the road were two Sikh policemen, whose presence had the desirable
effect of finally scaring away my plausible informant--or so I thought.
He had followed me thus far, but when I looked round a moment later he
had melted into the atmosphere. I walked on briskly, came to a bend
in the road, and sprinted down it on noiseless toes. It had occurred
to me that I might get to the house from across the fields behind it
without apprising the Law; and this I was able to do, though I could
have wished for a drier route. I wallowed perdu in mud and luxuriant
vegetation for about ten minutes, then, thinking all clear, crept
towards the charred ruin. I had actually got into the garden when I
heard a scuffle somewhere behind me. I fancy the police must have heard
it too, for there were footsteps on the gravel walk in front of the
house. Then came, from behind, a curious gurgling noise, then a dull
thud, then silence. A hand grasped my arm.
'"Come, sir," whispered a voice, and I felt myself dragged into a
clump of laurels. I was subtly aware that my present companion was a
friend, and I followed him without question. We crouched together for a
while, until the police, presumably supposing they had been deceived,
scrunched back into the road. He then put his lips to my ear.
'"I am Mr. Philipson's boy, sir," said he, in excellent English. "You
have some message for me?"
'"What is your name?" I asked him.
'"Lo Eng. You have a sign from my master?"
'I gave him the seal to feel, and I heard him murmur his satisfaction.
"Listen," he said, "Those devils set fire to the house a few hours
after the master went. I took the papers out of the safe, but
everything else was destroyed."
'"You are to give me the bundle marked with a letter B," I said.
'He took out a thick wad, and handed me an envelope from among them.
"Those are the ones," said he. "There is nothing else in the house,
for I have searched it. Please tell the _Lao Yeh_ I did everything
possible to protect his property, but they had lined the walls with
kerosene, and all went up very swiftly. Since then I have watched here
for my master. Those villains have also watched. One of them followed
you down this road to-night. I recognised him from the night of the
house-burning. I heard him tell you he was Mr. Philipson's boy. When
you ran, you thought you had left him behind, but you had not. He
followed you across the fields, so close that he could have killed you.
But I was just behind him."
'"Where is the fellow now?" I whispered.
'My ally drew me deeper into the shrubbery, where I kicked against
something soft. "He will not follow you any more," he said. "Help me to
cover him up, lest the police find him."'
At this point Lo Eng sat a little farther forward on the edge of his
chair, and broke in, with extreme deference.
'That man struggled very hard, master,' he said sweetly. 'I discovered
afterwards that I had strangled him.'
Philipson gravely nodded, and Poyning resumed his story.
'Lo Eng showed me a way across to the main traffic routes without
touching the New Highgate Road at all, and left me. I caught an inward
bound cabriolet to the city, cleared my own debit at the Eastern Seas
Hotel, collected my bag from the Marco Polo and settled up there, and
eventually reached the station with fifteen minutes to spare. I had
been zealously on the watch for followers all the way, and could have
pledged my faith that I had none; and yet, as I paced the platform, to
my supreme disgust I saw that two natives in the throng at least were
taking an abnormal amount of interest in my movements. They had been
over against a fruit stall in full view of the wicket I should have to
pass, but when they saw me, they edged unmistakably in my direction. I
walked up and down twice: they moved _pari passu_. I realised that if
I boarded the Nanking train, even if they did not follow me I should
have given away the route you had followed--always supposing these men
had connected me with you, which seemed tolerably plain. Then a device
occurred to me. There was a local train standing in the station. It was
due to leave for Wusung at ten-fifty. I regarded this as proof that
the gods were on my side. I went to the booking office and bought a
ticket for Wusung, intending to board that train, walk straight through
it, and gain my own by way of the track, trusting to providence and a
villainously illuminated station; but my two rascals were too quick for
me. I saw them get into a compartment about four distant from mine. The
situation, gentlemen, was growing strained, and I had already decided
not to travel at all that night, but to slink back into the city and
try again later, when yet another subterfuge came to my mind. I knew
that I could not leave that train without detection--at any rate so
long as it stood in the station. But if I waited until it started, and
then jumped, I might yet outwit the enemy. This course I followed,
though without the smooth success I had hoped. I waited too long before
jumping, and came the very disastrous cropper which resulted in this
bloody cockscomb you have been good enough to patch for me; and even
at that sacrifice I did not elude my two ruffians. As I fell I had a
blurred consciousness of other bodies falling from the train, and I
know that they fell with more agility than I did, for they were up and
upon me in an instant. I began to lay about me, but not dangerously,
for my head was swimming and I had frankly given up hope of getting out
of the imbroglio alive, when I realised that there was more in it than
at first appeared. There were three mirky shapes on that mirky railway
track--we were over a hundred yards out of the station--but one of
them was fighting on my side. I plucked up heart, and gave one of the
roughs such a taste of the fighting blood of the Poynings that he fell
backwards across the metals, struck his head, and lay still. The other
appeared to have had the worst of it with my ally, and the next thing I
knew, I had grabbed the suitcase and was bundling back along the track
with Lo Eng--to whose battling abilities throughout I would take this
occasion to bear the very warmest testimony. You'd better ask him what
happened after, for the world was waltzing around me again, and my
recollection becomes valueless as evidence.'
Lo Eng waited for a sign from Philipson, then delivered himself to this
effect:
'I feared that Mr. Poyning would be followed back into Shanghai, so
I followed him myself, all the way to the station. There it was as I
feared. I do not know how those men knew he was the gentleman they were
looking for, but they did know. I could see that he knew he was being
observed by them too. They were so intent on Mr. Poyning that they did
not see me get into the next carriage of the Wusung train. When they
jumped out, I jumped also. Then we fought, as Mr. Poyning has said, and
left those two men on the rails and ran back to the Nanking train. It
was just moving. He was so injured that he could not get up from the
ground, so I climbed into the train with the suit case and pulled him
up behind me. It was very difficult to do, and by the time we were on
board, the train was moving too fast for me to get off again. I had no
ticket, but Mr. Poyning paid my fare to the conductor. Then I bound
his head, which was bleeding, and he fell asleep until we reached here
this morning. We have not been followed since.'
Philipson rose from his chair and patted the servant's shaven head.
'You have done well, Lo Eng,' he said. 'You are a boy to be proud of.'
The expression of dog-like fidelity on the man's face deepened. 'Master
is going up country?' he said.
'Such is the case, Lo Eng,' replied Philipson, his eye twinkling.
The boy looked down at his demurely folded hands. 'There is no house in
Shanghai for me to guard now,' he murmured. 'The car was destroyed too.'
'Eh? That's the way the wind blows, is it? Very well, we shall be glad
of such a trusty servant, I have no doubt. You will go down and stay on
board the launch with Ah Sing now, and wait for orders.'
As soon as Lo Eng was out of the room, Philipson took Poyning's hand
and shook it. 'I am eternally beholden to you, Poyning,' he said
warmly. 'You have handled this business not only with discretion but
with a most commendable quantity of pluck. You had better lie down now
till breakfast is ready. After that, we will go into the future.'
'Well,' said Philipson to me, when we were alone, 'what think you?
Should we take the youth into partnership?'
'Seems to me,' I said, 'the question is, will he take us?'
Philipson had unlocked the suit case by the key Poyning left with him,
and was unwrapping the instruments from several yards of cotton wool.
Both came out quite undamaged.
'I am inclined to think,' said Saunders Philipson deliberatively, 'that
that _is_ the more correct way to put it.'