To the reader who is unacquainted with China, the conduct of Ling may appear to be highly improbable. In any other country in the world such a crime might be committed, but in no other country would the criminal not be seized with alarm. He would know that there was direct evidence against him and, in consequence, he would be obliged either to fly for his life or else stand his trial on a charge of murder or manslaughter, as the case might be.

In this regard China is unique--a country without police, in which evidence is extremely hard to obtain, no man presuming to testify against his neighbour. Under the old imperial regime there were no real courts of justice beyond the summary jurisdiction exercised by the local government official--the prefect, the tao-tai or the viceroy. And so far as we are aware, these very necessary reforms have not yet been instituted in the modern republican China of the twentieth century.

Ling had little or nothing to fear. Men-Ching had no relations who might carry the tale to the viceroy's yamen. Both Ah Wu and Yung How had been frightened out of their lives, and the Honanese had no apprehensions in regard to the unfortunate boy whom he had kidnapped in Sanshui.

In less than a minute after this deed of violence had been accomplished, Ling was sprawled at his great length upon one of the couches in the outer room. There, puffing complacently at a pipe of opium, he appeared to have dismissed the incident from his mind. He was busy making plans for the future. Ah Wu had now sufficiently recovered his composure to attend to the wants of his unwelcome guest. He brought Ling opium; he lighted the spirit-lamp; he rolled opium pills in his fat little fingers.

To all intents and purposes, Ling had taken complete possession of the opium den. He himself might have been the proprietor. He offered Yung How a pipe of opium, which Yung How accepted. He ordered Frank to be seated, and the boy had no option but to obey. Then he delivered himself as follows, addressing himself to Ah Wu.

"Ah Wu," said he, "I desire that you will be so good as to make a complete confession. There are certain details connected with this affair concerning which I am completely in the dark. For instance, who was to go for the treasure to the Glade of Children's Tears?"

"I was," said Ah Wu.

"Alone?"

"No. Yung How was to accompany me." And Ah Wu indicated his Hong-Kong friend by a motion of the hand. "We were to hire a junk in which to take away the money. We were to be assisted by Men-Ching and another man."

Ling looked across at Yung How and nodded pleasantly.

"And so, my tame cat, your name is Yung How. A fit name for one who washes plates and brushes a foreigner's clothes."

"I do not wash plates," said Yung How; "that is coolies' work."

"I beg your pardon," said Ling. "Since it is beneath your dignity to wash plates I am sorry for you, for presently I propose to eat at Ah Wu's expense. And you shall wash the plates which it shall be my pleasure to use."

Yung How made a wry face, and dropped his eyes to the ground. Frank observed that the man muttered to himself.

The boy was astonished that Yung How had not yet recognised him. Was it possible that he would fail to do so? The thought seemed too good to be true. On the other hand, it was possible that Frank had already been recognised, that Yung How knew who he was, and had managed to conceal his surprise. The average Chinese is quite capable of such extraordinary self-control. The boy's train of thought was interrupted by Ling, who took up the thread of his cross-examination.

"And so," said he, "you, Ah Wu, and Yung How, were to go together to the Glade of Children's Tears, having first ascertained that the neighbourhood was safe, that the foreigners in Hong-Kong had not thought fit to send armed men to capture you?"

"That is so," said Ah Wu.

"And the money was to be brought here by river?"

Ah Wu nodded. "To Canton," said he.

"Where Cheong-Chau would come by night, giving you your share and taking the rest back with him to Pinglo, to divide amongst his gang?"

Ah Wu nodded again.

"A simple business," said Ling. "A well-laid plot that has come to grief. Well, I am generous. My soul is of honey. I am soft of heart. You will find me a better master than Cheong-Chau. I can be generous to those who help me, as I know how to deal with those who declare themselves my enemies." And he jerked a finger in the direction of the little room beneath the stairs.

"Do you mean," asked Yung How, "that you propose to buy our silence?"

The man rose upon his couch like a bearded lion.

"I mean nothing of the sort," he cried. "Go to the viceroy if you will and tell him that you saw Ling take the life of Men-Ching in the opium den of Ah Wu--say I murdered the man. It will be a lie, I tell you. He attempted to stab me and I killed him in self-defence. Still you are free to go to the yamen with any tale you like, and when you have fulfilled your errand, I tell you frankly, upon the word of a man who holds the truth as sacred, that you shall not live for forty-eight hours. That is the manner of man I am, and that is the way in which I buy your silence."

Yung How did not move a muscle of his face.

"Then I fail to understand you," said he.

"I will make my meaning plainer," said the other. "This afternoon I send these letters to Hong-Kong by post, by the night boat. They will arrive to-morrow morning. In two--or at the most three--days, the ransom will be paid: twenty thousand dollars will be conveyed by some means from Hong-Kong to the Glade of Children's Tears. I think no soldiers will be sent because the Englishman in his letter has expressly stated that such a course would not be wise."

At that moment there came a loud, persistent rapping on the outer door, which Ah Wu had already locked. Ling at once ceased talking, but it is a singular fact that he was the only one of the four of them who showed no signs of being alarmed. They sat in silence, listening for several minutes, during which time the knocking upon the door continued. It was Ling who was the first to speak.

"Who is there?" he asked, addressing himself to Ah Wu.

"I have no idea," replied Ah Wu.

Ling got to his feet, strolled across the room, and drawing the curtains, unbolted the door. On opening it he beheld, standing before him upon the threshold, a man dressed in the scarlet coat of Cheong-Chau's brigand band.

"What do you want?" asked Ling.

"Men-Ching," said the man.

"And who, may I ask, is Men-Ching?"

"He is a friend of mine."

"He is not here," said Ling. "You can come in, if you like, and see for yourself."

The man entered the opium den, advancing down the centre of the room. Frank recognised him at once: he was the man who had accompanied Men-Ching upon his journey from the mountains. He went straight up to Ah Wu, to whom he bowed, folding his hands in accordance with the custom of his nation.

"You, I believe, are Ah Wu?" he asked. "You are the landlord of this establishment?"

"I am," said Ah Wu.

"I come for a friend of mine, Men-Ching by name. I think you know him. He told me he would be here."

"He is not here," said Ah Wu, who, palpably nervous, from time to time glanced in the direction of Ling.

"That is strange," said the man. "He certainly told me that I should find him here. Can you tell me where he is?"

Ah Wu shook his head. "I cannot say," said he.

The man looked perplexed. He stood for a moment stroking his chin, as if he was undecided what to do. Then Ling laid one of his great hands upon the man's shoulder.

"I will tell you where he is," said he. "He left here in great haste--and unexpectedly. He has gone upon a journey--a long journey. He did not say where he was going, for two reasons: firstly, he had no time to tell us; secondly, I do not believe he knew. And so, my friend, we can give you no information likely to be of value. Who are we, that we should know all things, that we should be able to solve the riddles of the universe? We are poor mortals, with little wisdom and great hopes. We arrange our lives in accordance with our own ideas, and those ideas are but guess-work, the product of imagination. We know nothing. We live in the dark. The printed page of the book of mysteries lies open before us, but we are blind and unable to read. Could I soar higher than an eagle, traversing the eternal plains of space, I might be able to tell you something of Men-Ching. As it is, I cannot." And Ling, with a shrug of the shoulders, turned away.

The man regarded his broad back in amazement. He could make neither head nor tail of what he had been told. And at the same time he was in a dilemma: he could do nothing without Men-Ching; in a great city like Canton--with which he was not well acquainted--he had no idea where to look for him.

"It is of the greatest importance," said he, "that I find Men-Ching without delay. I have news for him."

Ling whipped round at once.

"News," he exclaimed. "I tell you, my good man, you may be perfectly frank with us. We are in the secret."

"You are!" cried the man.

"All four of us," said Ling, whose capacity for falsehood appeared to be in proportion to his other faculties.

The man looked in surprise from Ling to Ah Wu, from Yung How to Frank.

"I see you doubt me," continued Ling. "Permit me to enlighten you. You are one of Cheong-Chau's band--that is evident from your coat. You came south with Men-Ching in order to convey certain letters to Hong-Kong. Cheong-Chau demands a ransom of twenty thousand dollars as the price of the lives of three European prisoners whom he holds in his hands. This sum of money is to be conveyed by junk, before the new moon, to the Glade of Children's Tears. It has already been arranged between my very good friend, Cheong-Chau, and Men-Ching, that we four, accompanied by Men-Ching himself, proceed to the Glade of Children's Tears in order to take possession of the money. I am surprised that Men-Ching did not inform you of all this. I presume you no longer doubt me?"

"I cannot doubt you," said the man. "You know more of the matter than myself. I was aware that Cheong-Chau had agents in Canton, but I was never informed who they were. Perhaps you will be so good as to advise me what to do."

Ling stroked his black moustache. He appeared to be deep in thought.

"If I were you," said he, "I should leave the matter in Men-Ching's hands. He cannot be far away. If I were you I should return at once to Cheong-Chau."

"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.