Part 8

It was Lee Ban, one of the wealthiest merchants of Keelung. He had sent his family away to safety earlier, but had to stay himself till the day of the bombardment. When escaping from the town a shell had exploded near his chair. A fragment had passed through the bottom of it, at the same time shearing away the entire calf from one of his legs. He had paid the chair-bearers generously. But they fled for their lives and left him where he lay. He had the name of being the most charitable citizen of Keelung, and he saw many a one that day whom he had helped with his means. But they rushed past him, utterly unheeding. War had kindled in them the primal instinct of self-preservation, and had subordinated every human feeling to brute fear.

He bound his leg as best he could and started to crawl towards safety. All day he crept on hands and knees, and through the night until he lay exhausted and unconscious. In the morning he bribed some soldiers who were searching for wounded to carry him to the camp. They took him to a native doctor, who plastered the great open wound with a mixture of mud and cow-dung. Then he heard that Kai Bok-su was here, and the foreign doctor. He had himself brought to them.

While he told his story in Chinese to MacKay, Sergeant Gorman and his helpers had carried him to a cot and were unbandaging the leg for the doctor's inspection.

"For the love of heaven!"

The great, gaping wound, extending from the knee to the ankle, was alive with maggots.

This also is one of the glories of war.

*XII*

*MATUTINAL CONFIDENCES*

Eight o'clock on the morning Dr. Sinclair left Tamsui for the front found the consul in the breakfast room. Clean-shaven, dressed in spotless white, he looked as cool and fresh, and was as prompt to the minute, as if he had enjoyed a perfect night's rest. A moment or two later Mrs. Beauchamp entered.

"Good-morning, Harry. I am afraid that I have disgraced myself by being late," she said with a little mock anxiety.

"Not at all, my dear. My wife is never late. I think my watch is a few seconds fast."

"Thank you, Harry. You always find an excuse for me."

"Oh, no! it is not that," replied her husband, as if ashamed that he should allow any partiality to cause him to swerve from his rigid rule of punctuality. "Really, I am a little ahead of time. I'm deuced hungry this morning. I could hardly wait for Ah Soon to get breakfast ready."

"What time did you come to bed last night? I believe that I did not hear you at all."

"You certainly did not. You were sleeping so soundly that the French might have bombarded Tamsui and come ashore and carried you off without you waking."

"Oh, Harry! I think that's real mean of you. You know perfectly that I know your step and movements so well, that I sleep just as soundly when you are moving about as when there is absolute silence. But any other person's step would waken me at once."

"You're right there. I do not believe that you heard me this morning, either."

"No, I did not. What time did you rise? I think it is not a bit fair of you to steal out of bed like that without awaking me. And then to wait down here with your watch in your hand to catch me ten seconds late! I do not like that. I have a mind to get offended."

"Hold! This is getting tragic.

'You've ungently, Brutus, Stole from my bed . . . . . . . . You stared upon me with ungentle looks. . . . . . . then you scratch'd your head, And too impatiently stamped with your foot.'

Let's change the subject. May I have another cup of coffee?"

"What an anti-climax! From high tragedy to hot coffee! How shocking!"

"Where is Constance?"

"I fancy that she is sleeping yet."

"Was she not put to bed at her usual time?"

"Yes. But the amah says that, once the singing began, she wakened up and insisted on getting out where she could hear it better. She was out on the upper verandah all the time. So she didn't waken as early as usual. But she'll be down soon."

"She should have been made stay in bed."

"Oh, well! we cannot tie her down too hard and fast. She dearly loves singing, and she has taken a most extraordinary fancy to Dr. Sinclair."

"I do not mind how much fancy she may take to Sinclair. But there are some of the others who were here last night whom I do not want her to meet any more than she must. By the way, Sinclair is off to the war."

"Off to the war! What to do?"

"To give his services as a doctor to the Chinese and to try to organize a Red Cross corps for them."

"How interesting! But is it not very dangerous for a foreigner to venture among the Chinese just now? Especially one who is a stranger and does not know the language?"

"It is a little. But Dr. MacKay is over there at present. I also let Sergeant Gorman go with Sinclair. Each is an expert in his own line. They are all pretty shrewd. I do not think that they are likely to get into trouble. Gardenier is lending me a man to take Gorman's place."

"When did they leave?"

"By the first launch this morning."

A light was dawning on Mrs. Beauchamp's mind:

"There was no mention of this at dinner last evening. When did Dr. Sinclair decide to go?"

"Just after he bade you good-night. He got a letter from MacKay, asking him to go, and decided at once."

"And all the arrangements had to be made, passports and everything else drawn up between then and the first launch this morning."

The consul's eyes were dancing and his face was a study:

"It had to be done."

"You base deceiver! After all your talk about my sleeping so soundly, you were never in bed at all."

The consul laid back his head and laughed till even the grave, slant-eyed Celestial waiter hurried into the room to see if there was need of assistance.

"You missed me a whole lot, didn't you, Gwen?"

"I do not want to talk to you."

"Oh, yes, you do! We'll change the subject again."

"You needn't. I shall not talk."

"Yes, you will. How ever did Miss MacAllister get such a spite at Sinclair as she showed last evening?"

"Spite!" (with immense contempt). "Spite!" (still more contemptuously).

"Well, I do not know what else you would call it. She made game of him and bally-ragged him at every turn. If he hadn't been so well able to take care of himself, I should have had to interfere and protect him, since he was our guest."

"And you think that it was because she had a spite at him? It's a lot a man, even a married man, knows about the ways of a woman."

"I'll acknowledge it, Gwen. 'There be three things which are too wonderful for me, yea, four which I know not,' and the most wonderful of the four are the ways of a maid with a man." He took the chance that she would not notice the inversion; and she did not. "Solomon was much more married than I am, and he did not understand the ways of a woman, Gwen. It's not fair to expect it of me."

She did not know whether to laugh or not. It was hard to resist the serio-comic, mock-penitent expression on his face. She felt like punishing him by breaking off the conversation. But the subject was too interesting to drop. That was what he had counted on, and he judged wisely.

"I should have thought that a man who had been married nearly a dozen years, and who had such a wide ante-nuptial experience, ought to be able to recognize the symptoms when a woman is falling in love."

"Do you mean to say that the way Miss MacAllister treated Sinclair last evening is a symptom that she is falling in love with him?"

"I do."

"It looks more to me like cruelty to animals."

"She'll make up for the cruelty afterwards."

"Or falling in love with the other fellow."

"Well, it isn't."

"But you didn't act like that with me."

"You silly."

"Serious! I mean it."

"You caught me before I was old enough to know any better. I was hopelessly gone before I knew what was the matter with me."

"Are you sorry?"

"No, Harry; you know that I'm not."

Their hands touched for a moment across the corner of the little breakfast table. Their eyes looked at each other as they had looked in the days when he, the young student interpreter, who had just got his first step in the service and was home on his first furlough, with all the romance about him of having lived in the Far East amidst far, strange peoples, won the love of the young girl, fresh out of a boarding-school. A flush suffused her delicate face, making it look very youthful and beautiful.

It was in a gentle tone that the husband continued:

"You really think that this is what is the matter with Miss MacAllister, that she is in danger of losing her heart to the big Canadian doctor?"

"Yes, I do. She told me that they had a bit of a tiff coming over on the _Hailoong_, and that she sauced him shamefully. But he got back at her before they left the boat, and now she wants to get even. She knows that there is something wrong with her, and has a suspicion what it is. That is what makes her so hard on him. She doesn't want to give in."

"A case of playing with fire?"

"Yes, I fancy it is."

"Well, it may be only a passing flirtation, quite harmless to all concerned. But if it is anything more, and she has a notion of turning this Asiatic trip of hers into a matrimonial venture, by Jove! I believe that big doctor, with all his notions about being a missionary, is the best investment she could make in these parts."

"Her mother doesn't think so."

"What has she in view?"

"A title."

"What! Carteret?"

"Yes."

"The thundering old fool!"

"Oh, Harry!"

"I mean it. If you weren't here, Gwen, I'd swear. It's always the way with those tradespeople who have started as peasants or domestics and made money. They would sell themselves or their daughters to the devil for a title. If Beelzebub, the prince of the devils, came along they would marry a daughter to him, so as to be able to speak of her as Her Royal Highness the Princess of the Devils."

"Oh, Harry, stop! You mustn't say that. Surely Mr. Carteret is not so bad as that."

"He's not far short of it."

"You never told me that."

"There are a lot of things I don't tell you. They wouldn't be pleasant for you to hear, nor for me to tell. And, anyway, in this little hole-in-the-corner of the world you have to associate with all those fellows more or less. It's easier for you if you do not know too much about them."

"But the men here are not all bad, are they?"

"Oh, no! No! I wouldn't have you think that. Some of them, I think most of them, are as good as you could get at home. But there are others. And Carteret is one of the others."

"Mrs. MacAllister does not know that."

"Perhaps not. But she has seen enough of the world to know the difference between a man like Sinclair and one like Carteret."

"I am afraid that it is the title. She told me that his father, the present lord, is an old man and cannot live long; and that his older brother, the present heir, is dying of consumption--as she expressed it, 'has only one lung.' So she thinks that Carteret is sure to succeed to the title soon."

"Yes; and in the meantime the two brothers love each other so that the heir will not hear of this prospective supplanter being nearer to him than China is to England. Esau and Jacob! And Mrs. MacAllister would give her daughter to that scavenger, and the MacAllister money to fix up the Carteret estates, just to have a title in the family! Gwen, I want to swear."

"Oh, Harry, you are shocking!"

"Can't help it, Gwen. I must swear."

"Well, Harry, if it will save you from injury----"

"It's damnable! ... Thanks, awfully, Gwen. I feel some better now."

"I hope that you'll not have another attack for some time."

"Then we'll have to talk about something else."

"What a marvellously versatile entertainer Dr. Sinclair is! I think that he is quite a wonder."

"What is better, he has both brains and gumption. He was as keen on getting to the front as a hound on a scent. But, unlike most hounds, he didn't give tongue. He said nothing. Just went, and that at once."

"I was afraid that it would come to a passage at arms between him and Carteret? Did you ever hear so much insult put into the tone of voice as Carteret did last evening?"

"It will be a bad day for Carteret when he pushes Sinclair too far. Most men from Sinclair's country don't take much stock in titles. They would pull a peer's nose just as soon as a peasant's. That's the kind of Sinclair.... Hallo, Puss, what time is this to be getting down to breakfast?"

"Good-morning, daddy. This is a lovely time to be getting down, much nicer than eight o'clock. Good-morning, mother. Have you been up long?"

"Long enough to have my breakfast eaten. I hear you were a bad girl last evening, Constance--that you didn't stay in bed or go to sleep till all hours."

But Constance--a tall, straight child of nine, with step as light and graceful as that of a fawn, and a wealth of dark-brown curls framing her clear-cut features and frank eyes--did not seem to be very penitent:

"Oh, mother, it was just lovely to hear the singing. I could have listened to you, and daddy, and Miss MacAllister, and Dr. Sinclair all night."

"Wise child!" remarked her father, somewhat grimly. "She knows the proper selection to make and whom to put first."

"There were others singing, Constance, besides the ones you mentioned," said her mother.

"Oh, yes; I know. I did not recognize some of the voices. But I knew Mr. Carteret's and Mr. De Vaux's."

"Mr. Carteret is a fine singer."

"Yes, I suppose. But I didn't like the way he sang. He put such a funny tone in his voice. He kind of---- Oh, I don't know how to describe it. It sounded like the way Carlo used to howl after daddy sent Fan over to Amoy."

"Good heavens!"

"And Mr. De Vaux's voice was just like my singing doll after I burst the bellows in her. She could give only one squeak, and then had to wait till I put some more wind into her before she could give another."

"That'll do, Constance; we've had enough of your opinions on singing. Get busy with your breakfast or you'll get none."

"All right, daddy."

"Boy! You tell coolie boys to roll the lawn. Tennis this afternoon. Can savey?"

"All lite! All lite! My can savey. Loll lawn. A-paw phah-kiu" (Afternoon strike-ball).

"Oh, goody! Dr. Sinclair will be here."

"No, Constance; Dr. Sinclair will not be here."

"Why, mother?"

"He has gone away over to Keelung to care for the sick and wounded after the battle."

"Oh, mother!" The finely-curved lips trembled A big tear stole out of each eye.

"Mother, do you think that he might get killed?"

"No, Connie. I do not think that he is in any danger."

The big tears rolled down the cheeks and dropped.

"Mother, will he come back?"

"Yes, I think that he may come back in a little while."

"I'm so glad!"

"By Jove! I'll have to watch that Sinclair. He makes conquests of both old and young."

*XIII*

*MORE CONFIDENCES*

In the building at the foot of the hill, near the shore, occupied by MacAllister, Munro Co. partly as a warehouse and partly as a residence for the company's European employees, another matrimonial _tete-a-tete_ was taking place. De Vaux and his two or three assistants, the representatives of the big London firm in North Formosa, had found temporary quarters in the buildings of the customs' compound or with the staffs of other firms. Mr. and Mrs. MacAllister and their daughter, with the native servants, had the living-rooms of the big hong to themselves.

It was little more than seven o'clock, an extraordinary hour for rising the morning after a late dinner. But, with characteristic regularity of habits, Mr. MacAllister was already up and shaving. As was fitting at such an hour, he was clothed only in pyjamas and slippers. But even those shapeless garments were worn with an attention to neatness quite lacking in most men whom a score and a half of years of married life have made entirely indifferent to personal appearance in the intimacy of the bed-chamber. He had even taken the trouble to brush his hair, at least what was left of it--another extraordinary proceeding on the part of a man who was likely to be seen by no person but his wife.

The shaving process was nearly done. He was carefully feeling the hard spots on each side of his chin to see if any offending hairs had escaped the relentless sweep of the razor and still projected within its range.

"Hector, you are a most extraordinary man."

The voice came from within the canopy of the mosquito curtains draped around the high-posted iron bed which occupied the centre of the room.

"Good-morning, my dear! Is it only now that you have found that out?"

"You are a most extraordinary man."

"What new marvel have you found in me, my dear?"

"To think that there is only about one hour of the twenty-four in this disgusting climate in which one can sleep comfortably and you would not allow me to have that, but must get up and disturb me by shaving."

"I am exceedingly sorry if I have disturbed you, my dear. But every time I wakened during the night you were sleeping very peacefully, and----"

"Not a bit of it! I have not slept at all."

"And when I got up you were not only sleeping, but snoring gently, and----"

"That's all nonsense! I've been wide-awake all night."

"And, although I have been about for nearly an hour, you continued to snore very gently until a moment before you spoke, and----"

"Hector, I'm astonished at you! You know perfectly well that I never sleep in hot weather. I do not understand why you ever chose to come to such a country as this in the summer."

"And now you are looking thoroughly refreshed and fit for anything, and----"

"I'm more tired than when I went to bed."

"And when you have your bath, and comb your hair, and are dressed, you will be as fresh and beautiful as you were when I brought you to London from the Highlands thirty years ago."

"Hector, it iss flattering me you would be."

She was sitting up now under the canopy of mosquito curtains. If an outsider could have looked in, he would probably have agreed that her husband was flattering shamefully. Unlike him, neatness in private was not one of her virtues. Her hair, black and luxuriant as in her girlhood, was tossed and tousled. The flesh, which had grown upon her with years, ungirt and unrestrained, flowed shapelessly with every movement.

But her face was still fresh in colour and comely in form. A little care about her appearance in the privacies of life would have made her perennially attractive to him, as attractive as when he had taken her as a bride. Perhaps at the moment she felt this. At any rate, the words of compliment and admiration were as sweet to the ears of the middle-aged woman as they had been to the young girl of thirty years before. Her little irritation about the disturbed slumbers and his chaffing manner passed like a summer cloud. Unconsciously she fell back into the accent of her girlhood when she said:

"Hector, it iss flattering me you would be."

He dressed with as much care of his personal appearance as if he were in London. Then he went out for a walk along the shore, pausing under the shade of some great banian trees to enjoy the magnificent scenery. Presently he returned to the room where his wife was now almost ready for breakfast.

"Our friends on board the _Hailoong_ and the _Locust_ are all up and active. But there is no stir anywhere else except among the Chinese. Neither De Vaux nor any of his staff have put in an appearance."

"They have fallen into the ways of this climate," replied his wife, "and sleep when it is possible to enjoy sleep."

"I am afraid De Vaux will not be in condition to do much to-day. He drank heavily last evening. He has been in our employ a long time, and as a rule has done very well. But I wish that he drank less."

"You must remember, Hector, the class to which Mr. De Vaux belongs. He is of noble family."

"All the more reason why he should keep control of himself. I was ashamed of him last night."

"But, Hector, people of rank all drink. You must not forget that Mr. De Vaux is a man of birth."

"Probably he was born some time, my dear. But from all accounts there does not seem to be much reason to be proud of the manner of it."

"Now, Hector, you ought to make allowance for the nobility. They have privileges which common people have not."

"They certainly seem to take them."

"That's not fair to people of rank, Hector. They have always been accustomed to do these things. Now with Dr. Sinclair, for example, it is quite different. He belongs to the common people and never had the chance to be anything else but respectable. But Mr. De Vaux and Mr. Carteret are men of quality. You couldn't expect them to be teetotallers and--and----"

"Decent," supplied her husband.

"Oh, I didn't mean just that."

"But that's about the fact," persisted Mr. MacAllister.

"No; I never heard anything against them. Mr. De Vaux has lived out here a long time. He may have fallen into the ways of the East. But I think that Mr. Carteret is a perfect gentleman."

Her husband looked at her keenly.

"He seemed to be willing to pay a good deal of attention to Jessie last evening."

"Yes," she replied, without returning his gaze. "He appears to be very much attracted by her."

"Was she attracted to him in return?"

"Why shouldn't she be? He is a handsome and most accomplished young man, and has the best prospects of succeeding to the title and estates."

"He is a younger son."

"Yes; but the heir has only one lung."

Her husband gave a short laugh.

"I have known one-lungers to live a long time," he said. "You mentioned Dr. Sinclair a moment ago. Whatever offence did Jessie take at him which led her to treat him so disagreeably?"

Mrs. MacAllister had just finished dressing and arranging her hair, and was taking a last look at herself in the mirror. She closed her lips tightly, threw back her head, and gave a little sniff:

"So you think she was offended at him," she said.

"What else could make her act the way she did last evening?"

"I wish that I could believe that you are right. But I am afraid that you are not."

"What do you mean?"

"I do not believe that she was a bit offended."

"Well, if she wasn't, I cannot see what possessed her to act so badly. She did everything she could to make him uncomfortable. I feel as if I ought to make some explanation of her conduct or offer some apology."

There was another sniff as she answered tartly:

"It would be wiser not to."

"But her behaviour was inexcusable and must have seemed so to Dr. Sinclair."

"All the better if it should remain so."

"Why?"

She made no answer.

"It seems to me," he continued, "that both you and she are inexplicable sometimes."

"That is because you have the usual stupidity of a man about everything in which women are concerned."

*XIV*

*THE APPEAL OF THE HEROIC*

"Is Jessie ready for breakfast?"

"Yes, she was ready before we were. She is on the verandah."

"I think we had better sit down. There is no use waiting any longer for De Vaux. I am afraid that he is not in a condition to appear. You had better call Jessie."

At that moment the tall, graceful figure of their daughter appeared in the bright light of the verandah, was framed for an instant in the doorway, and then came in, seeming to bring a wealth of light and brightness into the somewhat gloomy apartment where they were to breakfast. What a picture she made! The rich rose of her cheeks, the masses of her brown hair, the deep violet eyes were brought into sharp contrast with the white of her tropic attire.