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."