Part 13

Schwab had become tired of the Green Dragon, and now lived in a little house which he rented from a Chinese grocer. He was waited on by Hi Lo, who shared with Jack a room looking on the street. One day Jack was standing at the window, watching the thronging traffic. He was in low spirits: he had been so hopeful when he left Father Mayenobe; was he to endure a long suspense like Gabriele Walewska, but in more pain even than she, not knowing whether his father was alive or dead? Suddenly, behind a string of carts he saw Schwab approaching in company with Sowinski. Schwab was talking eagerly. Jack knew that his employer had had several interviews with the Pole; he had probably been establishing business relations between him and Schlagintwert in anticipation of the close of the war. The two entered the house, and Jack, with a certain tingling of the nerves, betook himself to the kitchen. Presently Hi Lo came in to prepare dinner; Sowinski was dining with his master. The boy waited at table, and, coming in and out of the kitchen, he gave Jack from time to time information of what was going on. The Pole knew a little German; both he and his host knew a little English; and as they eked out their acquirements the quick-witted China boy picked up scraps of their conversation and reported them to Jack.

"He piecee Polo man talkee; say-lo what plice Melican lails? Masta he say velly cheap; he sellum evelyting cheap; he say belongey plenty pidgin what-time fightey man all wailo."

"Boy!" shouted Schwab from the other room.

"Hai-yah, masta!" replied Hi Lo, hurrying away. He returned in a few seconds.

"Masta say wantchee Sin Foo chop-chop."

Jack whistled under his breath. For a moment he thought of slipping out of the room. But Schwab knew he was there. To leave without explanation would cause trouble. It would perhaps be best to brazen it out. He had already met Sowinski several times without being recognized. Yet he regretted that he had not taken French leave the moment he saw the Pole coming. He obeyed the summons.

"You Sin Foo, bring ze photographs, zose I haf developed."

"Allo lightee, masta."

Jack went out conscious that the Pole's eyes had been fixed on him. Returning with the photographs he gave them to Schwab, and was on the point of leaving the room when the German bade him wait. Schwab unrolled the papers and spread them before his guest.

"Zere! Vat you zink of zat? Zose I took at ze battle of Liao-yang. Ach! zat, mein frient, vas a fearful time. You vere not zere? No--you are a man of beace; ve gorresbondents are men of var. Picture ze hill of Shu-shan, schrapnel burst here, zere, everyvere; ze bullet fall zick as leaves of Vallombrosa. Zat hill, mein frient, vas target for hundert fifty guns. Zere am I, at ze top, fixing ze Japanese batteries in my focus. Danger! Donnerwetter! It vas truly bandemonium. But vy am I zere? Duty, mein frient, calls me; business are business; my duty, I am baid to do it; but not enough, no, certainly not enough. Vy, I write zis mail to Duesseldorf and say I can no longer encounter such danger for ze brice. I muss haf increase of screw. Boy, fetch ze camera."

Jack laid it on the table.

"See, mein frient," continued Schwab. "Gontemblate zat hole! Schrapnel! Anozer inch, or inch and half--ach! it is all ofer viz Hildebrand Schwab. Ze var gorresbondent run colossal risk, true; but ze var gorresbondent vat is also var photographer--vy, his risk is--vat shall I say? it is schrecklich, furchtbar!"

Jack was aghast at Schwab's magnificent assurance. If he had been alone with the Pole, that would have been another matter; but to dilate upon his exploits in the presence of one who knew exactly what heroic part he had played was astounding. Jack reflected, however, that he was merely a Chinese servant, and as such of no importance.

Finding that his invention was more than equal to the strain, Schwab proceeded with even greater confidence.

"Look at zis, mein frient. Here ve haf terrible scene of carnage in a Russian trench, a whole gombany is viped out by vun shell." Herr Schwab handed his guest the photograph of soldiers sleeping in the ditch near the Moukden railway-station. "And zis--vat zink you of zis?" He picked out the snap-shot of Siberian infantry before the blazing pawn-shop. "Here, mein frient, ve see Russian infantry vat make nightattack on village near Yentai: zey set on fire house full of Japanese."

"Ver' good, ver' good," remarked the Pole with an acid smile--"for a photograph made by night."

Schwab shot a suspicious glance at his guest.

"Ja!" he said, "it is vonderful. Zese vill abbear in ze bages of my baber, ze _Illustrirte Vaterland und Colonien_, zey vill give true account, shpeaking better zan volumes of gorresbondence, of ze horrible scenes vat zeir rebresentative haf beheld at ze bost of danger."

Sowinski's attention had been flagging; perhaps his intuition had detected the artistic temperament. At any rate Jack felt that his eyes were once more fixed on the silent Chinese boy--fixed in a puzzled, scrutinizing gaze. The epic of the camera being completed, and Schwab turning the conversation once more to business, Jack took the opportunity of slipping away. Hi Lo remained in the room to replenish the glasses. When Jack's back was turned, Sowinski, as Hi Lo reported later, leant forward and asked quietly:

"Tell me, where did you get your boy?"

"Vich? Sin Foo? Oh! I tell you. I got him to carry ze camera. Ach! zese Chinamen! Zey are above all zinks suberstitious. Zey zink ze camera hold tousand defils; not one haf ze gourage to undertake it till I abbly to ze gompradore of a Mr. Brown, for whom I had a letter. Mr. Brown is a bad lot; he is gone, none knows vere--ze Russians haf him put out of sight for because he haf betrayed zem to ze Japanese. Perhaps you know him, mein frient? Vell, ze gompradore recommend me zis boy, Sin Foo, vat haf some intelligence and do not fear ze defils. He is of use--yes, of use; he is not afraid to follow me in ze zick of ze battle. Vere ze gombat rage, zere is Schwab and his camera. It is in ze blood. My ancestor Hildebrand Suobensius vas a great fighter--a Landsknecht. I vill tell you his history----"

Hi Lo's report made Jack uneasy. Sowinski was evidently suspicious. If his suspicions took definite form, it was scarcely likely that a man of his rancorous disposition would leave things as they were. In the dusk of the evening Jack hurried to his friend the compradore; he felt that at this critical moment he needed advice from a Chinaman of experience. When Hi An heard what had happened, he said at once that it would be madness for Jack to remain longer in Moukden. Sowinski would certainly seek a resolution of his doubts; he would in any case have Jack arrested; and being in disguise, Jack would in all probability, if arrested, meet the fate of a spy.

While they were talking, Hi Lo came in hurriedly to report that one of Sowinski's servants was hanging about Schwab's house, apparently on the watch. That clinched the matter. Jack must make himself scarce, and as speedily as possible. Where was he to go? In the confused state of the country he might easily disappear; he could become a camp-follower, or mafoo to some European. But this would have its dangers; a Chinaman, as he had already proved, would soon penetrate his disguise; with a definite purpose before him, he did not care to be the sport of chance. He might take refuge for a time with Wang Shih's people; but it was not improbable that search would be made for him there, and he did not wish to involve them in the escape of a spy. There was his friend Ah Lum; he remembered the chief's invitation, and bethought himself that the Chunchuses, moving constantly about the country, enjoyed the best opportunities of learning his father's whereabouts. His mind was made up; he would join the brigands.

But unluckily the city gates were now shut. Since the war had come nearer to the walls, the entrances had been guarded more strictly. No one was allowed to go in or out after nightfall unless he wore a uniform or had a pass. The inner wall was too high to climb over; if by any chance he could slip through the gates, traverse the suburbs, and climb the outer wall, he might be shot; if he waited till morning, he ran the risk of arrest. Yet, all things considered, it seemed better to wait. Sowinski was apparently not quite sure of his ground. Then, to ensure his escape, a pony was needed; and he would have to enquire of Ah Lum's agent in the city, from whom alone could he learn the present whereabouts of the band. Finally, he was disinclined to leave Schwab without personally informing him of his approaching departure. This was perhaps in the circumstances a small matter, but it had more weight with Jack than he was probably aware of.

Taking leave of Hi An, he set off to return to Schwab's house. Hi Lo had preceded him. As he walked he felt that he was being dogged. He did not care to assure himself by looking back; but he took the first opportunity of slipping into a side street, and hurrying to his destination by a short cut. Schwab was writing, alone.

"My velly solly, masta," said Jack, kowtowing with even more than usual humility. "My wantchee wailo."

"Vat you say? Already vant holiday? No, no, boy. You haf been viz me not yet vun monce. I do not gif holidays so soon."

"My no wantchee holiday; my wantchee wailo allo-time; no come back; hab catchee muchee plenty leason."

"Donnerwetter! Vat is zat for a kind of business? Zat is desertion; infamous! Who zen vill carry ze camera? No, I cannot let you go; no, I refuse, I vill bay you no vages."

"My velly solly. My likee masta first-chop; wantchee wailo all-same. Masta no say Sin Foo belongey tellum what-time he wantchee go. Masta no wantchee pay-lo wages? all-same; my no makee bobbely. Suttinly my wailo chop-chop."

"Ach! Zat is ever so; ze goot servant cut his shtick; ze bad servant shtick fast. Vell, if I say no, vizout doubt you vill run avay?"

"No fea'."

"Vell zen, I let you go. You haf done me vell; zat is ze truth. But business are business; you haf served me vun monce less two days. I bay you zen fifteen dollar less ze vorth of two days. Vat is zat?"

"My no savvy, masta; my no hab catchee t'ings so-fashion China-side."

"Vell, I vill gif you fifteen dollar, and zay nozink about vat you owe me. Vere you go?"

"My go look-see flend long long wailo."

"So! I tell you zis; if again you gome back to Moukden vile Hildebrand Schwab is var gorresbondent, he alvays gif you job."

"Masta too muchee velly kind. My tinkee Toitsche genelum numpa one chappee, galaw! My say-lo by-by, masta; so long!"

The farewell interview had taken longer than Jack anticipated. He was anxious to be gone, feeling insecure in Schwab's house. Giving the hard-earned dollars to Hi Lo, he hastened back by side streets to the compradore, with a suspicion that he was watched as he left the house by two Chinamen whom he caught sight of on the other side of the road. He peeped back at the first corner, and saw that one of the men was coming in his direction; the other had disappeared. On reaching Hi An's house he found that the man was absent; he had spoken of making enquiries of Ah Lum's agent. Jack waited rather anxiously. Twenty minutes passed, then the compradore came in very hurriedly.

"Sowinski is coming with Russian soldiers!" he gasped. "They will be here in five minutes. I found Ah Lum's man, Me Hong; he will send a guide to Hsien-chia-kou, ten miles away. You must not go near Me Hong. But how to get away!"

Jack fortunately could keep his head. He had but a few minutes to decide on a course, and he made the most of them. If he went into the street he would be at once seen; probably there were already men on the watch at each end. The only other way out was by the back. The compradore peered out; as Jack expected, he saw several figures lurking in the shade of the wall. Jack remembered that in the fence separating the compradore's garden from Mr. Brown's there was a narrow gap through which Hi Lo had been wont to creep as a short cut to the house. Between the fence and the house there was a line of shrubs about two and a half feet high. It was growing dark; if he could creep away under cover of the bushes to the hole in the fence he might gain his father's house. There he would in truth be in the enemy's country; but the attention of the watchers would probably be engrossed by the soldiers whose tramp was now heard approaching, and his own house would be the last that Sowinski would suspect as the fugitive's hiding-place. What the next step might be Jack could not imagine; the first was risky, but he saw no other. In a word he told the compradore of his intention. The man gasped; then with a rapid movement took a revolver from a shelf and pressed it into his young master's hand.

"Good-bye, Mr. Hi! I will let you know. Don't forget Father."

He slipped to the back door, dropped on all-fours, and wriggled along the ground close to the line of shrubs. He had barely started when he heard Sowinski loudly summoning Hi An to open the door. The compradore made some reply, apparently temporizing; the answer was an angry shout, followed by a soothing response from the faithful servant. Jack heard no more; in another moment he reached the gap in the fence. He wriggled through; the garden had been neglected since Mr. Brown's arrest, and the undergrowth was rank; this was fortunate, for only a few feet away he saw, leaning on the fence, the form of a Russian soldier, and a yard or two beyond him another. They were talking together, or they might have heard the rustle as Jack squeezed through the hole and made for the house.

In these few moments he had been rapidly thinking. He could not hope to hide in the house, but he might pass through it, gain the front door, and escape by the street. Naturally he was so familiar with the house that there was no danger of his going astray. But, slipping in by the back door and turning into the passage leading to the front, his hope was suddenly dashed. Three Chinamen stood at the open door, completely barring his egress. They were talking excitedly and in loud tones. Jack overheard one of them say that the Russians were arresting a supposed Chinaman, actually an Englishman who had come to spy for the Japanese, the very man who had been living in Hi An's house behind, and whose illness had given them such concern. Evidently they were servants of the Pole, stationed at the door to keep watch. The three men blocked up the doorway and stood facing the street.

Jack noiselessly slipped into the dining-room, lit by a single lamp. He felt like a fox in a hole, with dogs all round ready to snap him up if he showed his nose. He looked round the familiar room with a curious sense of aloofness. Had this been for so long his home? It was the same room, the same furniture--a table, a few chairs, engravings on the walls, the large oaken press; but a different air seemed to pervade it now. For a moment he thought of hiding in the press until dead of night, and then slipping away. He opened the door; the lock had been forced; the press was empty save for a few bottles of wine. Clearly this would not be a secure refuge; a bottle might be required at any moment. What else could he do? He could open the window--the only glass one in the house--and drop into the street; but he would certainly be seen by the men at the door or by a casual passer-by, though there were few people about at that hour of the evening. Yet no other course suggested itself, and he was moving towards the window when he heard soft footsteps in the passage outside. Quick as thought he sprang behind the open door, listening with thumping heart.

One of the servants passed by on the way to the kitchen. He had left the others at the door to keep watch while he prepared his master's supper. The cloth, Jack noticed, had been left on the table. In a minute or two the man would come into this very room, and Jack must be seen. With nerves tingling he waited, setting his lips as a plan of action was suggested to him by the emergency. Soon he heard the clink of glass. The servant was returning. He came from the kitchen carrying a tray with a glass jug, a tumbler, and a plate. He entered the room, walked to the table, and set the tray upon it. At that moment Jack stepped quietly up to him from behind, brought one arm round over his mouth to stifle any cry, and with the other held the cold barrel of his pistol to the man's temple.

"Keep silent, for your life!" he whispered.

The Chinaman, with fear in his eyes, made no sound or movement, but stood as still as his trembling limbs allowed. Still keeping the pistol pointed at the man's head, Jack quietly closed the door. Then he said:

"I will do you no injury, but your safety and mine require that you should be out of harm's way for a time. I have business with your master. Go into that press. So long as you are quiet and do what you are told, you have nothing to fear. But if you make the slightest sound, that moment will be your last. You understand me?"

He spoke very low and rapidly, but distinctly. The man nodded; there was no mistaking the grim meaning with which this tall foreigner who spoke Chinese fingered the trigger of his revolver. Crossing the room to the press, the Chinaman stepped into it, and Jack closed the door.

He wondered if he could slip out of the house before Sowinski returned. Before long the Pole must discover that the bird had flown; he would realize the hopelessness of searching the whole of Moukden at night for a man disguised as a Chinaman, and, furious as he might be, he would doubtless accept the situation for the moment, and return to his evening meal. Once more Jack was making towards the window when he heard footsteps again, this time approaching from the back of the house; not the shuffling felt soles of Chinese, but the tramp of heavy European boots. At the same moment there came from the street the clatter of several feet marching in time. Jack stepped back from the window. He heard a gruff voice, the voice of Sowinski, say in Russian:

"Sergeant, there is no more to be done. The spy has got away. Inform the sentinels at the gates. He cannot leave the city to-night; we may trap him yet. Report to General Bekovitch; I will see him in the morning. Good-night!"

The sergeant responded, and marched his squad away.

"Where is Ming Fo?" demanded Sowinski of the servants at the door. "Why is he not watching with you?"

"He is preparing your supper, master; we are keeping watch for him."

"You have seen no one pass?"

"No one."

"Very well. Go and get your supper."

Then Jack heard Sowinski's footsteps approaching the room and the two Chinamen shuffling along behind towards the kitchen. His chest heaved; the crisis was at hand.

*CHAPTER XIV*

*A Night with Sowinski*

The Persuasive Pistol--A Pass--Thorough--Captain Sinetsky--The Eastern Gate--An Empty Pistol

Jack had intended to deal with the Pole as he had dealt with his servant; but the fact of the two other Chinamen passing the door of the room close on his heels had thrown out his calculations. He could not afford to run the risk of the slightest struggle; it would certainly be heard. He had but an instant to decide on his course.

Behind the door was a chair. To this Jack tiptoed, and he had just seated himself when Sowinski opened the door. The Pole flung his hat on a chair, and moved towards the press, doubtless with the intention of getting a bottle of wine. He almost had his hand on the knob when he became aware, rather by instinct than by perception, of a movement behind him. Jack with his foot had gently swung the door to. Turning sharply round, Sowinski saw the red light of the shaded lamp reflected from the barrel of a pistol in the hand of a young Chinaman seated composedly within five feet of him. For a moment he was motionless; he was too much surprised for speech; a second glance showed him who his visitor was, and Jack, watching him keenly, saw his face go pale. He stood irresolute; the ominous pistol, not held rigidly, but moving gently from side to side, seemed to hold him spell-bound, as the swaying head of a snake fascinates a hare.

"Yes, Mr. Sowinski," said Jack quietly, though his pulse was galloping; "yes, it is I, Jack Brown. You were looking for me? Speak low, or the pistol may go off."

"You would be arrested at once," said the Pole in a hard whisper.

"Possibly, but that would not help you. You would be dead."

Sowinski ground his teeth. Rage and fear struggled for the mastery; but fear, as Jack had calculated, was the stronger. The man's eye never left the barrel.

"First, Mr. Sowinski," continued Jack, rising, and now pointing the revolver steadily at his head; "first, I wish to know where my father is."

"Your father? How should I know? Am I your father's keeper? He was deported."

"You lie!" said Jack, his voice vibrant with anger. "Come, your reply; your life depends on it."

Visibly cowed by Jack's menacing look and tone, the Pole replied sullenly:

"Well, it is true; he was taken to Harbin, to be delivered to General Kriloff."

"And where is he now?"

"I do not know. I swear that is the truth. General Bekovitch----"

"Does he know?"

"I cannot say. I do not know what message he sent to General Kriloff. I have heard nothing of your father since he went away."

"He went in chains; did you know that?"

"Yes," replied the Pole hesitatingly.

"Then where is he? You know that; you know more; a man is sent away in chains, herded with foul criminals; it is your doing; what have you done with him?"

"I don't know; may I never speak again if that is not true. He is probably in the mines."

As he said this, even the imminent pistol could not prevent Sowinski from betraying his rancorous satisfaction in a mocking curl of the lip and a half-suppressed chuckle. Yet Jack felt intuitively that in this case the man was speaking the truth; that he really did not know what had become of his victim after he had seen him safely wedged in the cattle-truck. There was scorn as well as a white heat of anger in Jack's reply.

"You infamous scoundrel! You would be justly served if I shot you where you stand, and for my own part the satisfaction would be worth the risk. But I can't kill even such vermin as you in cold blood; and if I spare you, be sure the day of reckoning is only deferred. There are a thousand Poles waiting to kill the traitor Ladislas Streleszki at sight."

The amazed and wretched man swayed as he stood; his hue turned still more ashen than before; his whole body seemed to shrink together with craven fear.

"Now, choose," continued Jack after a pause. "The pistol, or instant compliance with my demands.--Silence!" He heard the two Chinamen approach the door, and noticed a twitching of the Pole's mouth suggesting a cry for help. The impulse, if impulse it was, was immediately checked by Jack's stern command.

"Send them home."

Sowinski called to the men that they might go; he would require them no more that night.

"Now close the shutters. Thank you! I see pen, ink, and paper on yonder shelf. Seat yourself at the table and write in Russian from my dictation."

The Pole moved mechanically, under the spell of the covering revolver.