I, Spy - 6 Espionage & Detective Books in One Edition. Frederic Arnold Kummer
this screen I perceived a large bronze figure of the Buddha, before which was arranged, upon the low altar, a profusion of flowers and food, offerings of the faithful to the deity. There were a number of small candles burning before the bronze figure, and behind and beyond it I saw a small room which evidently served as the living or sleeping chamber of the temple priest. After he had shown me everything in the room with much pride—he seemed a simple and earnest old fellow—I made ready to depart and, before doing so, drew from my pocket a handful of the brass coins, called cash, with which you are no doubt familiar, and thrust them into the old fellow's outstretched hands. He seemed deeply grateful and said a few words in his native tongue to my servant, who turned to me with the information that the priest was about to accord me an especial honor by showing me the sacred relic of the Buddha. He approached the altar, and, taking a key from his girdle, opened a small gold box covered with wonderful repoussé work, which stood directly in front of the sitting figure of the god, and rested between his knees. Upon opening this box, he drew forth a small ivory shrine, also elaborately carved, which he set upon the top of the first box, and arranged so that the light from the candles fell upon it. He then opened the ivory box with a small gold key, and I looked in. The relic of the Buddha, a small and insignificant looking piece of dirty brown bone, I paid slight attention to, for in that box, glistening and glowing with the most wonderful color in the light of the candles, stood the emerald Buddha. The relic lay upon a piece of white silk, at the bottom of the box. There was a shelf in the box, of ivory, half-way up its height, and upon this shelf, occupying the upper half of the ivory casket, stood the emerald, its brilliant color and marvelous workmanship rendered the more noticeable by the white background of the ivory. I inquired as to its history, through my servant, and was informed that it had been brought to Ping Yang many centuries before, by the priest who brought the relic from Thibet and founded the temple. He told me that it was an emerald, but neither the fact of its enormous size and value as a jewel nor its priceless beauty as an example of the most exquisite workmanship in the carving and cutting of gems that I had ever seen seemed to appeal to him. To him its value was solely of a religious nature: it was a statue of the great teacher, carved by some devoted worshiper or patient monk centuries before, and had always been venerated, next to the relic, as the most precious of all the temple's possessions. I told my servant to ask the priest if they would sell it, but he seemed disinclined to make the request until I repeated my injunction rather sharply. When the message had been translated to the old man, he scowled darkly, his face lighting up with a look of sullen anger, and, hastily locking his treasures in their double box, he turned without making any reply and began to usher us from the room. I repeated the request, this time using my own store of Chinese, and drew forth a large roll of gold, but the priest waved me aside with an angry word, which sounded like a curse, and pointed to the door. There was nothing left but to go, and I did so, though with the bitterest regret at leaving what I considered the most remarkable and unique of all the curios which I have ever seen in the whole course of my life and the one which I would have given most to possess. In the course of the next week I haunted the neighborhood of the temple, and several times, finding the old priest sitting beside the door, attempted to repeat my offer, but he invariably drew back with a look of intense hatred, and refused to listen to me. Upon my fourth or fifth attempt I found him in company with several other Chinamen, evidently members of his sect, who regarded me with dark looks and muttered imprecations, and the next time I appeared in the street I found myself surrounded by quite a mob of excited Chinamen who assailed me with fierce curses and cries, and even made as though to offer me personal violence. After this I felt that it would be unsafe for me to venture into that quarter of the town again, and a few days later, finding that even in other sections of the city I was regarded with evident suspicion and dislike, I decided to leave the place and return to Pekin. We left Pekin early in August, and, after stopping at several of the seaport cities, arrived early in October in Hong Kong where we made a stay of several weeks. It was here that I met Robert Ashton who, like myself, was traveling in China for the purpose of collecting rare examples of Chinese art, and who, I soon found, possessed an extraordinary knowledge of the subject. This knowledge, which is not common among us in the West, formed a bond of sympathy between us, especially in that country so remote from home, where the sight of an English face and the sound of one's native language are always so welcome. During our stay there we saw a great deal of Mr. Ashton, and he soon became very attentive to my daughter. She, like myself, has always felt a deep interest in Eastern art, and seemed rather to welcome Mr. Ashton's attentions, and I was gratified to think that in him I might find a son-in-law who would appreciate the collection, which has been my life work. I told him the story of my experiences in Ping Yang, in which he seemed deeply interested. He informed me that, although he had been in the city, he had never heard of the emerald Buddha. He intended going on to Pekin later in the autumn, and proposed to me that he should attempt to secure the jewel for me. I told him that I regarded its purchase as impossible, but he only laughed and said that he felt sure he could secure it. I made light of his claims, and, when he said in all seriousness one night that he would obtain it for me provided I would consent to his marriage to my daughter, I agreed at once, both because I felt his quest was an absolutely hopeless one and because I saw no objections to him as a son-in-law in any event. I did not mention my agreement to my daughter at the time, not wishing it to appear to her that I was bartering her in return for a mere jewel. In fact I felt so certain that she would welcome Mr. Ashton's advances that I preferred that she should remain in ignorance of my compact with him. A few days later he departed for Pekin, and we returned home by way of India and Suez. On account of both my daughter's health and my own, we decided to take a house on the southwest coast for a time, my house in London being under lease for a term of years, expiring this coming spring. Upon my return I questioned my daughter with relation to Mr. Ashton, and was amazed and horrified to learn that, far from regarding him with sentiments of esteem, she bore toward him a feeling almost of aversion. I explained to her the promise that I had made which it was now too late for me to recall, and at my earnest request and almost at my command she wrote to Mr. Ashton, agreeing to abide by my wishes in the matter. That was six or eight months ago, and I heard nothing from him until two days ago when he telegraphed me from Southampton that he had arrived in England and would come to see me at once.
"His story, as he related it to me at dinner last night, was like an adventure from the Arabian Nights. After completing his business in Pekin, he had set out upon his long journey to Ping Yang with only a single native servant, a Chinaman from the south, a Confucian, who was devoted to him, and owed him a debt of gratitude for saving his life on one occasion. Accompanied only by this man, he penetrated slowly to within about fifteen miles of the city of Ping Yang, and there, in a small village, he lived for over a month, in an inconspicuous way. He spoke Chinese well, and, with the assistance of his servant, got hold of a dress such as is worn by the Buddhist pilgrim monks in China, who, casting aside the things of this World, spend their life in wandering about from shrine to shrine, living on the alms of the faithful and preaching the doctrines of their religion as they go. In this dress, with shaven head and staff in hand, he had arrived, alone, in Ping Yang one evening at dusk and at once proceeded to the temple, the location of which I had carefully described to him. Arriving at the door, with an offering of flowers, he entered, and, prostrating himself before the shrine, seemed lost in prayer. There were a number of other worshipers in the temple at the time, and still others came and went as the evening wore on, but Ashton continued in his place, muttering his prayers and pretending to be in great agony of spirit. Presently the hour grew late and one by one the worshipers departed, until only Ashton and the old temple priest were left. The latter, in some impatience, came up to him, and informed him that the hour was late and that he had better continue his devotions upon the morrow. Ashton pretended to be suffering from some sudden illness, and lay upon the floor moaning pitifully. As the old monk bent over him to see whether he could hear his muttered words Ashton suddenly seized him by the throat, and with his powerful hands choked him into silence. He then gagged him with a piece of cloth which he had brought for the purpose, and, taking from his girdle the keys of the small shrine, proceeded to quickly open it and abstract the coveted emerald Buddha. Escape was easy. The old priest, unable to utter a sound would be unable to give the alarm until the next morning, and by that time Ashton, who had left his servant with their horses at a retired spot outside the town, would be miles away, journeying peaceably toward Pekin as an English traveler. His escape, however, was not to be so easily effected. Whether the old priest penetrated