Held by Chinese Brigands. Gilson Charles
and filled the room with bitter-smelling smoke.
And as they fell under the influence of the wonderful and subtle drug that holds sway over the whole of the Far East, from Shanghai to Bombay, they discussed in low voices the affairs of Mr Hennessy K. Waldron, of Paradise City, Nevada, U.S.A.
"Tell me," asked Yung How, "do you ever see anything of Cheong-Chau, the robber?"
"He himself," said Ah Wu, "comes often to Canton. He invariably stays here. He is a great smoker. He smokes opium by day and walks abroad by night. He will not show himself in the streets by daylight, in case he should be recognised by the soldiers of the Viceroy."
"He is a brave man," said Yung How-avoiding, after the manner of the East, the point at issue.
"He fears not death," said Ah Wu. "But the day will come when he will be led to his execution, to the Potter's Yard, where they will cut off his head, and the heads of all his followers."
"How many men has he?" asked Yung How.
Ah Wu shrugged his shoulders.
"Some say twenty," said he; "some say thirty. Men-Ching, his second-in-command, is always here. He is one of my oldest patrons." Ah Wu nodded his head towards the door. "He is in there now," he added, "sound asleep. I saw him as we passed."
It is not the custom of a Chinese to convey surprise, satisfaction or displeasure, or any other emotion, upon the features of his face. Yung How's countenance remained expressionless. He did not raise an eyebrow. And yet he was delighted. He was in luck's way, and he knew it.
"What sort of a man is this Men-Ching?" he asked.
"He is an old man," said Ah Wu, "a grandfather. He wears a small grey beard, and his pigtail is almost white."
Yung How leaned across the table and whispered in Ah Wu's ear:
"I know of a party of Europeans," said he, "who are going up one of the rivers-I am not sure which. I have not yet discovered their destination. They are rich men. How much will Cheong-Chau give, do you think, if I deliver them into his hands?"
Ah Wu chuckled. Then, very carefully, he rolled another opium pill and puffed the smoke from his mouth.
"This can be arranged," said he, rising to his feet. "I will fetch Men-Ching. He returns to Pinglo to-morrow."
Ah Wu entered the opium den and, ascending the stairs, awakened a man who was sleeping upon one of the couches. This was an old man with a small grey beard and so little hair upon his head that his pigtail was not six inches long.
Men-Ching listened to Ah Wu's apologies, and then got slowly to his feet. He put on his faded scarlet coat and followed the proprietor down the stairs. In the little room below, he was introduced to Yung How, and a Chinese introduction is a serious and ceremonious occasion. For the better part of five minutes the two men paid each other compliments, which were neither the truth nor intended to be such. Then all three seated themselves at the table, and presently the smoke from three opium pipes, instead of two, was filling the room with the bitter, pungent smell.
They discussed the matter in every detail; they regarded it from every aspect. They calculated the risk and speculated upon their own share of the plunder. They tried to estimate the illimitable wealth of Mr Hennessy K. Waldron. Perhaps Ah Wu had visions of retiring from business and settling down in his native town of Chau-chau, on the banks of the Han river, where the rice is the best in China.
At all events they were three great scoundrels, and although Cheong-Chau himself may have been a greater one, there was a certain man who-even whilst they were closeted together-had entered the opium den, who was without doubt the greatest villain in all the thirteen provinces, in all that land of thieves and knaves and cut-throats, from the Great Wall of China to the Shan States, upon the borderland of Burmah.
And this man was Ling. He burst into the opium den with such violence that the outer door was in danger of being broken from its hinges. He thrust aside the embroidered curtains so roughly that several of the wooden rings that secured them at the top were broken. Once inside the room, he bellowed for Ah Wu, the proprietor of the establishment, and his voice was so great that he awakened many of the sleepers.
Being informed that Ah Wu was privately engaged, he strode into the little room beneath the stairs, and there found himself confronted by Men-Ching, whom he knew well by sight and reputation, and Yung How, whom he had never seen before.
For some moments he stood regarding the three men. Then he laughed-just as a jackal laughs.
"What's this?" he cried. "Three such heads were never brought together to discuss Confucius or the writings of the learned Lao Tzu. An old fox, Ah Wu-one of Cheong-Chau's paid assassins, and a smooth-faced Hong-Kong 'boy'! Vulgar men, all three, who breathe from their throats, and walk in fear and trembling. Fetch me a pipe, Ah Wu, and take us into your council. I have a mind to learn the reason of these whisperings."
We have said that the Oriental does not betray his innermost feelings upon his features. We have stated that the Chinese countenance is incapable of expression. The case was overstated, for all three of them, the moment they set eyes upon this self-confident intruder, became visibly alarmed. It is true that to no small extent the personal appearance of Ling may have been responsible for this.
The man was a giant. Yung How was a tall man; but when he stood at his full height, the shaven top of his head was not level with the shoulders of the new-comer, who must have been at least six feet eight inches in height. His complexion was so sallow as to be almost green; his cheeks were hollow like those of a human skull. At the same time, he had enormous features: a great hooked nose; a square, massive chin; a mouth that almost reached to his ears when he grinned. He had coal-black eyebrows which met upon the bridge of his nose, and slanted slightly upwards. Upon his upper lip was a long black moustache, the ends of which hung down below his chin. His bones were mammoth-like; he had enormous fists; and when he walked, his great shoulder-blades could be seen moving under his long blue silken robe. Ah Wu looked up at him, with the glint of fear in his little fox-like eyes.
"We were discussing the rice crop," said he.
"Liar!" roared Ling.
And he brought down his fist upon the table with such force that the opium bowls jumped, and one of the spirit-lamps went out.
"Liar!" he repeated. "Fetch me a pipe, as I bid you, and speak true talk. This is a human affair and concerns me as much as you. Were it a question of divine philosophy, I should be the last to intrude. Come, I propose to give you advice."
Thereupon, without the least warning, he seized Yung How by the scruff of his neck, and lifted him bodily out of his chair.
"This foreign devil's flunkey shall increase the wisdom of the mighty Ling," he shouted. "He shall tell me in his Hong-Kong jargon why he holds conference with one of Cheong-Chau's bandits, and one who has grown so old in wickedness, and so rich in ill-gotten gains, that his eyes are sunk in the wrinkled fat of his face."
He dumped Yung How back into his chair, and for once the habitual expression of serene dignity had departed from that gentleman's countenance. Indeed, he looked terribly frightened-but not more so than Ah Wu himself, who now came forward, holding in his trembling hand an opium pipe, which he offered politely to this gigantic Oriental swashbuckler.
Ling examined the pipe critically; and then, apparently satisfied with the appearance of it, proceeded to roll opium pills in his huge, flat-tipped fingers.
"I smoke," said he, "not like fools, to dream. I smoke to fight, to think, and to make fools of others."
As he said these words he flung off his long coat. Underneath he was wearing a thin vest of the finest Chifu silk. Around his waist was a belt, attached to which was a great knife-a Malay kris-the handle of which was studded lavishly with jewels.
CHAPTER III-OF THE TIGER AND THE FOXES
Ling was a Northerner. He hailed from the province of Honan, a land of rugged hills and dark, inhospitable valleys, through which flows the unnavigable Hoang-Ho, the turbulent Yellow River that thrashes its way into the Gulf of Pe-chili, over cataracts and rocks, through dark, precipitous ravines.
The