The H. Bedford-Jones Pulp Fiction Megapack. H. Bedford-Jones
will stop lead, O’Grady, if I get the chance. You haven’t won yet. French won’t sell out to you.”
He nodded, and chuckled.
“Yes, he will, too! He thinks Kohler’s gone back on him or forgotten him. He’s hard up and sick to boot. Don’t worry, me lad! Now, I’ll have to take a look at your papers—merely for the sake of information. Also, to destroy any that might be of use to you.”
I had no papers, as he very soon ascertained, with the exception of Kohler’s order on any Shansi bankers. He looked at it curiously, inspected the seal with a whistle of surprise, and asked what the paper was. I told him. He replaced it in my pocket.
“I’m robbin’ no man, Breck. Now, I’ll have to leave ye tied up until your men waken. It’ll be only a matter of a few hours, d’ye see. That drugged tea was an excellent notion, what? Rippin’, I call it! I’ll beat you into Kiuling and sign up with French. And what then? Will you make trouble when you come along?”
I met his level gaze with a smile.
“My dear O’Grady, I’ll make you trouble until you reach Fuchow again!”
“I have five men,” he reminded me. “All Japs, and smart. And you’ll have no guns.”
“Look for trouble when I see you again,” was my rejoinder. He laughed and clapped me on the shoulder.
“Good for ye, me lad! We’ll have a grand fight for it yet, praise be! Now I must be off. The rain is still spatterin’ gently, but it may break into a storm any time and that means bad roads.”
He was rising, when one of his Japs came excitedly to the tent opening with a rush of eager words. O’Grady seemed to understand the language perfectly. He swore under his breath, gave the Jap a curt, peremptory order, then whirled and seized the gag again.
“Sorry, old fellow,” he said, as he slipped it in place. “But something’s up—”
At the same instant, a hail lifted to us from the darkness.
“Hello the camp! Anybody there speak English?”
It was a woman’s voice.
V
O’Grady darted out of the tent. From where I sat I could see all that passed, for a figure mounted on mule back rode into the circle of firelight and halted not ten feet from the tent. The Japs clustered in the background, staring.
“Faith, ma’am, it’s a poor welcome we have here for ye,” sang out O’Grady, “but it’s better than none at all! I don’t suppose, by any chance, you’re Miss Janet French, now?”
“Yes, I’m Miss French.”
O’Grady introduced himself, as he assisted the visitor to dismount. I could see that he was considerably disconcerted by the encounter; and no wonder! The girl was absolutely alone, too.
“How did you know me?” demanded the girl, regarding him.
“I’m on me way now to see your brother, ma’am.”
“You’ve come from Mr. Kohler?” Her voice was eager, swift with strain.
“Not a bit of it,” was his cool response. “I’m representin’ a group o’ Japanese interests, Miss Janet; but come inside, for the rain will be comin’ down soon! I’ll have some food and hot tea for ye in no time at all.” He concluded with a sharp snap of orders to his men, who hastened to obey.
A lantern hung from the tent roof. Miss French came inside, then stopped dead at sight of me, O’Grady was at her elbow. He spoke apologetically.
“It’s a sorry man I am, Miss Janet, to be havin’ you for a guest here and with things the way they are! This is not my camp, d’ye mind; I only reached here a short bit ago. This poor chap was ravin’, stark, starin’ mad! He’d held a regular opium debauch, it seems. All his muleteers are dead to the world; think o’ the amount of opium they must have used! We got him tied up and he’s quieted down a bit, poor lad! We had just finished destroyin’ all the opium and layouts in sight when you dropped in on us.”
As he rattled forth this astounding tale, O’Grady tipped me a cheerful wink over the girl’s shoulder.
She believed the story, of course; why not? I could read belief in the sad, troubled gaze of her as she watched me. A wide-eyed girl she was, all brown and slender and sweet in her fur-trimmed corduroys; a quiet poise in her face took hold of me strongly, and I hardly noted the depth to her eyes nor the gold-red of her massed hair, for I was absorbed and fascinated by her face as a whole. It was not beautiful, but it had power.
Then I began to struggle with my bonds, furious at that story of O’Grady’s, but could make only a growling noise in my throat.
“Don’t be afraid of him,” said O’Grady, and chuckled. “Faith, it’s a strong tongue he has on him, but no matter now! We can crowd in a bit beyond. And what in the name of all that’s holy fetched you here alone? Haven’t you any servants?”
Miss Janet sat down, but still looked at me.
“He hasn’t the opium pallor,” she observed, then turned. “Oh! Why, I had two mafus, but a tiger crossed the road just ahead of us, an hour ago, and I think they ran away. The poor fellows were terribly afraid. We left Kiuling at noon yesterday, in a great hurry—tell me, Mr. O’Grady, are you a doctor?”
The Irishman’s features, finely ascetic of eye and nostril, contracted slightly.
“No,” he said, almost curtly. “I studied surgery—once. But I know nothing at all about medicine.”
“Oh, good!” exclaimed the girl eagerly. “You see, my brother, Art, was kicked by a mule yesterday morning. We think his shoulder-blade is broken, but we’re not sure, and the native doctor there is a frightful charlatan, and I don’t know the first thing about setting bones. We’ll have to go right back, now!”
She leaped to her feet. O’Grady, giving me one expressive glance, smiled and held up a restraining hand. At the tent opening appeared one of his Japs, bearing some tea and food hastily contrived from the preparations of my mafus.
“I’m your man, if it’s a case o’ bone-setting,” he declared. “But first, we’ll all have a bit and a sup. You’ve been on the go since noon, and I’ve been climbing these dev’lish hill trails since late in the afternoon. You really should have some rest now—”
She smiled and dissented quickly, although she seated herself and took the food gladly.
“No! If you’ll go, we’ll start right away.” Her eyes went to me, frowningly. “But should we leave this poor man here? He’s a white man—”
“Don’t worry,” said O’Grady dryly, flashing me a slight smile. “His men will take care of him right enough. When the rain bursts, it’ll wake the beggars up.”
I had been inwardly hoping for the same result, but by his mention of it I realized that the hope was vain; that package of tea must have been doped strongly.
O’Grady looked extremely complacent, as he well might. The luck was playing all into his hands, and he was quite capable of keeping it under control. Then Miss French, who seemed rather concerned about me, suggested another possibility the mention of which really caused me an abrupt uneasiness.
“But, Mr. O’Grady! If these men are left like this, what about the danger from tigers? They are not at all uncommon hereabouts, you know! We really should leave this whole camp guarded.”
O’Grady was himself disturbed by the suggestion, as I perceived, but he shrugged.
“Don’t alarm yourself, clear lady! We’ll leave a big fire blazin’, and the dawn will soon be here. Besides, tigers don’t hunt in a storm, as you very well know.”
It was evident that she did not know it at all, and neither did O’Grady,