Читать книгу: «Held by Chinese Brigands», страница 8

"That is not necessary," said the man.

Ling looked up quickly, lifting his eyebrows. For a moment his eyes flashed, suggesting something of the fierce sudden intelligence of a beast of prey that scents its quarry.

"How do you mean?" he rapped out.

"It is not necessary," said the man, "that I return to Cheong-Chau, for the simple reason that Cheong-Chau himself has come to me."

Ling closed his mouth with a snap.

"Ah!" he exclaimed. "So Cheong-Chau is-in Canton?"

"He approaches Canton," said the man. "That is the information that I desired to give to Men-Ching."

"He approaches Canton," repeated Ling. "This is indeed interesting! And can you tell me why Cheong-Chau approaches Canton?"

"Yes," said the man. "One of his prisoners has escaped."

At the word Frank Armitage caught his breath. With a great effort of will he managed to control himself. He stared hard at the opium bowl, filled with the sticky, treacle-like substance, that was immediately in front of him.

The boy felt like a helpless bird, imprisoned in a cage of poisonous snakes. He could not be blind to the peril in which he stood. Hardly a minute passed when it was not made evident to him that his life hung upon a thread. At any moment he might be discovered, and then, in the hands of such a man as Ling, he could hope for little mercy.

"What you tell me interests me vastly," said Ling, still addressing himself to the brigand. "You have no idea how annoyed I am. And so one of the prisoners has escaped! I think you had best return to Cheong-Chau, taking with you a written message from my friend, Ah Wu."

Ah Wu looked up at Ling in something like despair. The fat proprietor of the opium den, at that moment, bitterly regretted that he had ever had anything to do with the business. He feared Cheong-Chau, but he was terrified of Ling. He now found himself between the hammer and the anvil.

"What do you wish me to do?" he asked, in a weak voice. "What sort of a message am I to send to Cheong-Chau?"

"Tell him the truth," said Ling. "Tell him that Men-Ching called here this morning, and soon afterwards departed unexpectedly, in a great hurry. Say that you presume he has gone to Hong-Kong. He told you, I believe, that the letters were safe."

And even as Ling said these words he placed one of his hands upon the pocket of his coat-and they all heard the crinkling sound of the stiff rice paper upon which the letters had been written. Both Yung How and Frank regarded Ling in astonishment. The man was beyond doubt an accomplished and unmitigated villain. He was never at a loss. As for Ah Wu, very meekly he crossed the room to the writing-desk where he kept his accounts. There he wrote a letter, handling with skill the long Chinese ink-brush. And as he wrote Ling strolled up to him, glanced over his shoulder, and strolled away. Then Ah Wu folded the letter and sealed it and gave it to Cheong-Chau's man, who a few moments afterwards left the opium den.

No sooner was he gone than Ling bolted the door and came back quickly into the room.

"This," said he, "is going to be a touch-and-go affair. It will be an open question now who gets to the Glade first: Cheong-Chau or I. You three shall help me. I take it, you prefer to be on the winning side. I shall need the assistance of every one of you. You will have your fair share of the plunder, more than you would have got from Cheong-Chau-I promise you that. But I have warned you once, and I warn you again: play me false, and I deal with you as I dealt with Men-Ching. It is already late in the afternoon. There is much to be done to-night. Ah Wu, you must keep the place closed; you must put up a notice outside saying that no customers will be admitted. Tell me, is there a back entrance?"

Ah Wu nodded his head.

"Good!" exclaimed Ling. "You and I must get the body of that fool out of the way. We shall be able to do that as soon as it is dark. As for these two, they can remain here till we return. I care not how many men Cheong-Chau has brought with him. I know how to settle him. The man is an opium fiend, and by opium he shall fall. Now then, Ah Wu, are we to be friends or foes?"

"Friends," said Ah Wu.

"Then swear friendship."

And Ah Wu swore, with a hand uplifted, by the Five Sacred Books.

And then Yung How swore fidelity to Ling, who rounded upon Frank.

"And you, my little smooth-faced infant, whom I have truly taken to my heart, you have not told me yet your name?"

"Ah Li," said Frank, who for some time had been prepared for such a question.

"And you also swear?"

And Frank swore, following the example of Ah Wu and Yung How, and using the same words to be faithful to the mighty Ling. And as he made the declaration he satisfied his conscience that he attached no more importance to the words than did Ling to the life of the man whom he had killed.

CHAPTER XVI-OF THE REPENTANCE OF YUNG HOW

Thus it was that they became the unwilling servants of Ling. They had no option but to obey him. By reason of his gigantic strength, Ling was the master of the situation.

Ah Wu was as crafty as a fox. All his life he had been connected with the opium business; and an opium den is a place where a Chinese may gain a very intimate knowledge of his fellow-men. He learns much in connection with human character. Whatever may have been the feelings of Frank Armitage and Yung How, the proprietor of the opium den had not the least doubt that in agreeing to follow Ling they had taken the wisest course.

During the few hours that elapsed between the departure of the brigand and sunset, they were given a further opportunity of observing the singular abilities of this inhuman monster. There is no doubt that the man might have succeeded in almost any walk of life. His plans were not only elaborate, and so carefully laid that they allowed for almost every possible contingency, but they were made rapidly without a moment's hesitation.

In the course of the afternoon Ah Wu's three attendants arrived, gaining entrance into the opium den by means of the back door. These were sent upon various errands, from which they could not possibly return until after dark. As soon as Ling himself had conveyed the mortal remains of the unfortunate Men-Ching from the opium den, the place was to be open, customers were to be admitted. These customers were to be entertained by Yung How until Ah Wu himself returned. The establishment was to remain open, day and night, throughout the next few days. Ling made no secret of his intention to decoy Cheong-Chau to the opium den, where he was to be drugged, whilst Ling gained possession of the ransom, which by that time should have arrived from Hong-Kong.

About the middle of the afternoon Ling went out, and was absent about twenty minutes. This in itself is sufficient proof of the self-confidence of the man. It was within the power of Ah Wu, Yung How, or the youth who had called himself "Ah Li," to betray him. These three were left alone in the opium den with the horrid evidence of Ling's guilt.

During his absence, Ling posted his letters. The night boat left Canton at eight o'clock, and Ling himself took the letters on board. He returned to the opium den, and was admitted at the back door by Ah Wu himself. He did not seem in the least curious as to whether they had been discussing him whilst he was away.

Soon after nightfall, Ling and Ah Wu departed on their gruesome errand, taking with them the body of Men-Ching. This they secreted under the hood of a double ricksha, and Ah Wu, much to his dismay, was made to seat himself beside a lifeless companion. As for Ling, he stripped himself to the waist, coiled his pigtail round the top of his head, after the manner of a coolie, and himself drew the ricksha through the dark, narrow streets of the great city. Frank and Yung How stood at the small back door of the opium den when Ling took his departure. They heard the wheels rattling over the cobble-stones of the streets, and then the ricksha disappeared in the darkness, and with it that which had formerly been Men-Ching, Cheong-Chau's second-in-command.

Yung How and Frank returned to the main room, where they lighted the lamps, and shortly afterwards the three attendants returned. The establishment was then opened, and it was not long before customers began to arrive. Most of these were regular patrons of Ah Wu's, who knew how to look after themselves. Having ordered what they wanted, they disposed themselves on couches in the lower room. There they smoked opium, drank samshu, and nodded off to sleep.

Frank regarded Yung How. The man lay upon a couch; his arms were folded; he was staring blankly in front of him, thinking possibly of Ling and how that villain had placed himself between Yung How and a fortune. For there could be little doubt that, under the original arrangement, Yung How was to be treated handsomely, and the man attached little or no value to Ling's promise. It does not necessarily follow that one rogue will trust another.

Frank, as he looked at the man, was busy with his thoughts. Two things were evident to him: first, that Yung How had not recognised him and that he was now scarcely likely to do so; second, that he might be persuaded to operate against Ling-provided he could do so without great personal risk.

Now in order not to overestimate the boldness of the step which Frank Armitage then and there proposed to take, it is necessary to realise that the boy could see no other way out of his difficulties, to remember that not only his own life but the lives of Mr Waldron and his uncle depended upon his success, and to remember also that he stood in no fear of Yung How, whom he had known since he was a child.

It was above all things necessary for Frank to communicate with Hong-Kong if he could not go there himself. The moment Ling left the opium den it occurred to Frank that he might write a letter. He could not, however, do this without being observed by Yung How, who had received strict orders from Ling not to allow the boy out of his sight for a single moment. Frank therefore decided to play a bold card; but he would never have taken a step so hazardous had he not had something more than an inkling that he was likely to meet with success. He crossed the room to the couch upon which Yung How was lying, and asked the man if he would be so good as to accompany him to the balcony at the head of the stairs.

"I have something of the greatest importance to say to you," said he. "It may be to your advantage as well as mine."

Yung How looked at him in surprise, then got to his feet, and walked slowly up the stairs, followed by Frank.

They seated themselves, side by side, upon a couch in a darkened corner. Now that Frank found himself confronted by the greatest crisis in all his strange adventures, he hesitated to begin. Several minutes elapsed before he could speak, and he did not do so then without a word of encouragement.

"Well?" asked Yung How.

"I am surprised, Yung How," said Frank, "that you have not recognised me."

Yung How knitted his brows, and drawing away from the boy, turned and stared at him. Frank Armitage did not move.

"I should have thought," he added, "you would have known me."

Yung How's voice came in a kind of gasp.

"Master Frank!" he exclaimed.

The boy smiled. It was as much as he could do, but he managed it somehow, knowing full well that everything depended upon his presence of mind. He had learned something from Ling.

"Are you blind, Yung How?" he asked.

"I did not know you," said the man, who had not yet recovered from his astonishment. "The shaven head! The pigtail! Your clothes! Besides, you are the last person I expected to see. I thought you hundreds of miles away."

"So I was," said Frank. "I escaped."

"Ah! It was you who escaped! I did not think of that." Then he lowered his voice. "But why have you told me?"

"Because, Yung How, though you have behaved like a rascal, I cannot believe you to be such a villain that you would allow my uncle, who has been a good master to you for years, to be murdered."

Yung How was silent for more than a minute.

"That is true," said he; "that is very true."

"I suppose you realise," Frank went on, "that if I remain here, Ling may gain possession of the ransom, and in that case both my uncle and Mr Waldron will be killed. You know also that, if you betray me to Ling, I shall be killed. Do you remember, Yung How, when I was a little boy who had only just learned to walk, you used to take me up to the top of the Peak, and we would walk upon the asphalt paths, and you would tell me Chinese fairy tales? I remember them to this day. Then, it was you who taught me to speak your language. Do you remember when the plague came to Hong-Kong, and people were dying in the streets? Have you forgotten that you too fell ill, and my uncle himself carried you in his arms and sent you in a chair to the hospital? Have you forgotten that?"

The face of Yung How had grown very serious. Slowly he shook his head.

"My master," said he, "I have not forgotten."

"You had the plague," said Frank, "and my uncle took you in his arms. In doing so, he risked his life to save yours."

"That is true," said the Chinaman, who sat quite still and rigid, staring straight in front of him.

"Is there no gratitude," said Frank, "in all the Chinese race?"

There was again a long pause; and then Yung How quite suddenly fell down upon his knees. Clenching both his fists, he raised them high above his head, shaking them violently, as if he suffered anguish.

"Oh, how blind am I!" he cried. "Opium has done this. Opium, my young master, has brought me here. You smoke a little and it is good; your troubles vanish, your pains are no more, your dreams are sweet. Then you must take more, until, at last, you smoke all night, in order to forget the troubles of this world. And all that costs money. There comes a time when even ten dollars will not secure the treasures, the delights of opium. The craving was strong upon me, and all my money had gone, when I heard that my master was about to undertake a journey to the Nan-ling Mountains. I knew that I could get into communication with Cheong-Chau through Ah Wu. I knew also that Cheong-Chau would give me a good share of the ransom. I thought there would be no harm in it. I was assured that no one should suffer death. And now I am filled with remorse when I think of what has happened, when I think of this man, Ling, and realise that the lives of us all hang upon a thread. I have had my fill of opium. I want no more of it. Believe me, my young master, I am prostrate with grief!"

It was fortunate that there was no one else on the balcony, for not only was Yung How's emotion great, but he had raised his voice, and had there been anyone near at hand, he must have been overheard. Frank realised, with a sense of relief, that he had nothing to fear from the man, that Yung How would not betray him. He saw also that Yung How must master himself before Ling returned. The boy stretched forth a hand and touched the Chinese upon the chest.

"Listen, Yung How," said he, "you need not despair. With your help, I believe, we can not only escape ourselves but save my uncle and Mr Waldron. Ling watches me. Without your help I can do nothing. But you have friends in Canton; it should be possible for you to get a message through to Hong-Kong. To-morrow morning Cheong-Chau's letter will be delivered to the Governor. The ransom will be paid, but Ling will get hold of it if troops are not sent down to capture him. This message should go to Hong-Kong to-night. The boat leaves at eight o'clock. It is now half-past seven."

Yung How sprang to his feet.

"We have delayed matters too long," he cried. "Why should not we two escape at once without wasting a moment?"

Frank grasped the man's hand and pressed it. "I promise you my uncle will forgive you. More than that, on his behalf, I promise you a reward."

"That is not necessary," said Yung How. "I am disgraced; you have made me realise my own baseness. I should like you to see that a Chinaman can be an honest man. But, I repeat, we do but waste time in words. We must go together and we must go now-at once-if we are to catch the boat!"

Even as he continued speaking, he moved forward rapidly, followed by Frank. They passed hastily down the stairs, and thence, passing the little room in which Men-Ching had been done to death, they went to the back door, with the object of letting themselves out.

As Frank Armitage stretched forth a hand to take hold of the handle, the door swung back, as on its own accord. And there entered Ling, who had to stoop in order that his gigantic form might pass beneath the lintel.

"And so," cried Ling, "we have returned. Men-Ching sleeps with his fathers. As the West River flows eastward to the sea, the waters sing a song of sleep to the celestial graves on either bank. Opium, Ah Wu! Give me opium to smoke, for like the long-tailed horse of a Manchu warrior, the mighty Ling scents battle from afar."

CHAPTER XVII-HOW LING WAS TOO LATE

It was, with Ling, something in the nature of a pose to speak after the fashion of the scholars, using the flowery language of the writers of poesy, or quoting the philosophical maxims of the sages. None the less, the moment he entered the opium den, though he spoke of other things, it was apparent both to Frank Armitage and Yung How that Ling had detected the fact that they were about to make their escape.

In his customary boisterous manner, the great Honanese ushered them into the room. Ascending the stairs, he sprawled at full length upon the couch upon which Frank had been seated but a few moments before, when Yung How made his confession.

"At last," said Ling, "Cheong-Chau and myself are to meet. He knows me of old. This will not be the first time that I have snatched the ripe fruit from his mouth. Cheong-Chau has no cause to love me. I have heard it said that he regards me as his deadly enemy, the only man who ever foiled him."

He puffed at the opium pipe which Ah Wu had brought him. The amount of the drug that the man consumed was extraordinary, and moreover, it seemed to have very little effect upon either his physical or mental constitution. As he sent thin clouds of blue smoke upward to the ceiling, in the close, stifling atmosphere of the room, he half closed his eyes, and appeared to be lost in his thoughts.

"Well," said he, "I have no fear of Cheong-Chau and all his rascals. I shall win. There is little doubt as to that. The wolf cannot stand before the tiger. Therefore you would be wise to side with me. If the wolf shows his teeth, he goes the way of Men-Ching. And thither go all who oppose me. For your own guidance, I advise you to remember this."

He opened his eyes and fixed them upon Yung How, who stood at hand. Yung How did not flinch. He was as calm and dignified as usual. Indeed, for a few moments only had Frank seen him otherwise, and then he had appeared absolutely carried away by anguish and remorse. It occurred to Frank how strange it was that a man who, as a general rule, was outwardly so calm and collected should be capable of such deep-seated and demonstrative emotion. However, the Chinese are an inexplicable race, as Frank knew well enough. He regarded Yung How, and was delighted to observe that the man never faltered in his honest resolution before the steady, piercing gaze of the implacable Honanese.

"I desire to know," said Ling, "where you two were going as I chanced to enter."

Yung How did not answer a word. He continued to look Ling straight in the face.

"Very well," said Ling, "you need not tell me. I have a shrewd suspicion that you were up to no good. I shall take the necessary precautions and ask you, for the sake of your own welfare, to remember my warning."

He disposed himself as if for sleep, throwing back his head upon the pillow. Ah Wu busied himself about the establishment, entertaining his guests, of whom there were now many, and seeing that his assistants went about their duties. As for Frank and Yung How, they lay down upon couches on the balcony, the former because he was thoroughly tired, and felt that he required a rest.

Suddenly Ling sat up, and cried out that he was hungry. Shouting down into the room below, he ordered one of Ah Wu's men to bring him food, and then turned to Yung How.

"And you shall wait on me," he declared. "I have heard it said that you have a great reputation in Hong-Kong, that you squeeze even ricksha coolies for copper cash and make more money than a comprador. You shall attend to my wants; and when I have eaten all that I desire, you shall-as I promised you-wash up the bowls and plates."

Presently one of Ah Wu's assistants mounted the staircase, carrying in his hands a large tray upon which was a number of Chinese dishes. The tray was set down upon a small table at which Yung How was ordered to preside, handing the mighty Ling whatever dish he might call for.

Now Yung How had made up his mind to escape, and even as he waited upon Ling he took careful stock of his surroundings. He knew that he could not rely upon any help from Ah Wu, who was now hand and glove with the Honanese. He had noticed that Ah Wu had locked the back door, putting the key in one of his pockets. There was a clock in the room, towards which Yung How repeatedly carried his eyes. It was twenty minutes to eight. Yung How had, indeed, very little time if he was to make good his escape and catch the Hong-Kong boat. He could not very well cross the room, and go out by the main entrance, because Ling would certainly see him and follow in pursuit. The man was beginning to despair when he observed a window at the farther end of the balcony.

This window was closed, but it might be possible to open it. Also, since the floor of the lower room was somewhat below the level of the street, the window could not be far from the ground. The difficulty that confronted Yung How was how to reach the window without arousing the suspicions of Ling.

Now Yung How, like the majority of his countrymen, was by no means devoid of inventive powers. The Chinaman is an adept at finding an excuse, and it must be confessed that the device of Yung How was ingenious.

In handing a small bowl of rice to Ling, the man purposely knocked over the small opium spirit-lamp which stood burning upon the table by the side of the couch upon which Ling was lying. This nearly resulted in a general conflagration that might have destroyed the whole establishment. The oil ran out, and set fire to the dry matting with which the floors were carpeted; and this burned like tinder-wood, the fire running with rapidity along the balcony and filling the whole place with smoke.

Ling, springing to his feet, utilised one of the cushions of the couch to smother the fire. Frank was not slow to follow his example, and Ah Wu and several men from the lower room, hastening up the steps, resorted to various means to quench the fire, or at least to hold it in check.

For the best part of a minute the whole place was uproar and confusion. Those who were already asleep from the effects of opium were awakened by cries of "Fire!" One or two in alarm left the establishment by the main entrance, spreading the report in the city that Ah Wu's opium den had actually been burned to the ground.

Long before that Yung How had made the most of his opportunity. At the moment when the danger was most imminent, when the attention of both Ling and Ah Wu was fully engaged, the man passed unseen to the window, which he opened. Leaning over the sill and looking down, he satisfied himself that it was not more than twelve feet to the ground. As quick as thought he crawled through, hung for a moment at the full extent of his arms, and then dropped to the street. Instantly he set off running as fast as he could in the direction of Shamien.

When the fire was extinguished, Ling gave vent to his feelings, cursing Yung How for his carelessness and folly. However, he had not unburdened himself of more than a few sentences when, to his astonishment and indescribable wrath, he discovered that Yung How was gone. Seeing the opened window, he rushed to it, and looked out. Beyond there was nothing but darkness, an unlighted by-street, not more than two or three yards in width.

Ling descended the stairs like an infuriated tiger. Quite suddenly he came to a halt in the middle of the room. Thence he returned up the staircase, four steps at a time, at the top of which he encountered Frank. He seized the boy by the throat, and then, lifting him off his feet, tucked him under an arm, as a man might carry a hen.

He again descended the stairs, unlocked the door of the little room, threw the boy inside, and locked the door upon him. A moment later, he was in the street, rushing forward at such a tempestuous rate that he cleared all obstructions from his path. He thrust an empty ricksha aside with such violence that he broke the shafts. He knocked over three men: a fat old merchant, a beggar, and a blind man. He killed a duck by crushing it underfoot, and finding his way barred by a pig, he picked it up and threw it over a wall, the animal squealing in terror.

Gaining the narrow creek that separates Shamien from the main part of the city, Ling dashed across the bridge of boats. That night the few Europeans who were walking along the bund in front of the hotel and the club beheld the remarkable apparition of a Chinese giant who charged forward like a madman, his long pigtail flying out behind him, making in the direction of the harbour.

On a sudden, Ling stopped dead. His headlong course had been arrested by a peculiar sound, or rather combination of sounds, the explanation of which was not difficult to seek. There was the shrill whistle of a siren and the sound of large paddles violently thrashing the water.

Almost at once, the Hong-Kong boat hove in sight. The decks were ablaze with light. Upon the bridge, Ling could distinguish both the Chinese pilot and the English captain.

"Hi!" he shouted. "I have missed the ship. If you slow down and lower a rope I can come on board from a sampan."

He spoke in excellent English. There is no doubt that the captain both heard and understood him, for Ling received his answer.

"Too late, my friend!" shouted the captain. "We sail to time, and if you're not here it's your own fault. You'll have to wait till to-morrow-eight o'clock in the morning."

Ling's answer was neither in the English language nor at the top of his voice. It was in Cantonese, and as a matter of fact it cannot be translated. And if it could be translated, no one would print it. For Ling had not failed to observe Yung How, standing alone upon the upper deck.