Kitabı oku: «The Red Rat's Daughter», sayfa 12

"At half-past seven," answered Browne.

"Au revoir, then, until half-past seven."

They waved hands to each other, and Browne laid himself back in the rickshá, mumbling as he did so, "Now for our friend Johann Schmidt."

CHAPTER XXI

Leaving the Club, the rickshá coolie proceeded in the opposite direction to that which Browne had followed, when in search of the gentleman to whom he had presented the letter of introduction. At first, and while he remained in the Queen's Road, there was but little difference to be observed; the thoroughfare was a fine one, broad and commodious. After one or two turnings, however, matters changed somewhat, and he found himself in a labyrinth of narrow, tortuous streets, the shops on either side of which were small and mean, the names over the doors being for the most part in the Celestial characters. The confusion that existed in the streets was indescribable. Here the Mongolian was to be seen in all his glory. But, in addition to the Chinamen, almost every nationality known to the Asiatic world was represented; while through it all, towering head and shoulders above the crowd, stalked the stately Sikhs on patrol duty. At last, after a drive that had occupied perhaps a quarter of an hour, the coolie drew up, before what was probably the largest shop Browne had yet seen in the neighbourhood. It was built in the Chinese fashion, and, in order that West and East may meet on an equal footing, had two names over the door, one in Chinese writing, the other plainly printed in English characters: "Johann Schmidt." Browne alighted, and, having told his coolie to wait, entered the shop. He was greeted on the threshold by a stout Chinaman, who was plainly in charge.

"What for you piecee look see?" inquired the latter.

Browne, not being adept at pidgin-English, replied to the effect that he desired to see and speak with Herr Schmidt. Whether the man comprehended or not he could not tell; at any rate he left him alone in the shop, while he disappeared behind a curtain at the farther end. When he returned, a few seconds later, he was accompanied by a portly individual, whose nationality the veriest tyro could not mistake. As if to make it doubly sure, he carried in his hand an enormous pipe fashioned after the pattern of the Fatherland. His face was large and almost spherical; his hair was close-cropped, as was his beard; he was attired in white trousers, a flannel shirt, which would have been none the worse for a wash, and a black alpaca coat. The Teutonic stolidity was certainly well developed in him. On seeing Browne he stopped and sucked contentedly at his pipe, but said nothing. The younger man was the first to speak.

"You are Herr Schmidt, I believe?" said Browne, in English. The other nodded his head, but still did not venture upon speech. "I bring a letter of introduction to you," said Browne, dropping his voice a little, as though he were afraid of being overheard. "It is from a certain Herr Otto Sauber, whom I met in Paris about two months ago. He told me that you would do all you could for me in a certain matter."

"Herr Sauber?" inquired the German. "I cannot dink that I am mit him acquainted."

Browne's disappointment was plainly discernible on his face. He had fully expected that, immediately he presented the letter Sauber had given him, this mysterious Johann Schmidt would understand and arrange everything. This, however, did not appear to be the case. The man before him sucked stolidly at his pipe, and watched him with eyes that had no expression in them. The position was embarrassing, to say the least of it. Was it possible that his mission was going to prove futile after all, and that, for the good he was to get out of it, he might just as well not have wasted his time by calling at Hong-kong at all? For upwards of thirty most uncomfortable seconds the two men stood watching each other. Then Browne spoke.

"You are quite sure, I suppose," he asked, "that you do not know the gentleman in question? I certainly understood from him that you had been acquainted with each other for many years."

The German shook his head. Then he said slowly, "Perhaps, mein frien, if you would mit me come, I will talk mit you ubon the madder. So many men do say dot they know Johann Schmidt. But Johann do not know dem. If you to mine office would come, we will talk mit each other dere."

Browne accordingly followed him behind the curtain to which I have alluded. There he found, to his surprise, a most comfortable and, I might almost add, luxurious apartment. The walls were hung with pictures of considerable merit, interspersed with innumerable curios, collected from almost every country in the Farther East. In any other place the room might have ranked as a fairly noteworthy apartment; but here, surrounded by so much that was sordid – nay, almost barbaric – it was little short of unique. Pointing to a long bamboo chair which fitted a corner beneath an enormous Cantonese dragon, used for burning pastilles, the German bade Browne seat himself. Before the latter did so, however, he handed the German the letter with which Herr Sauber had furnished him. The other took it, cut the flap of the envelope with a jade paper-knife, and, drawing forth the contents, placed an enormous pair of spectacles upon his nose, and read them thoroughly. Upwards of five minutes had elapsed between the time Browne had given him the letter until he spoke again. These long delays were having a bad effect upon the young man's temper; they strained his nerves to breaking-pitch. He felt that this phlegmatic individual would not hurry himself, even if another's existence depended upon it. To all intents and purposes he had united in his person the apathy of the Asiatic with the stolidity of the Teuton.

"Now dat I look ubon it, I do remember Herr Sauber," the other replied. "It was once dat we very good friends were, but it is many years dat I heard of him." The old fellow wagged his head solemnly until his glasses shook upon his nose. The recollection of the incident, whatever it was, seemed to afford him considerable satisfaction, though why it should have done so was by no means apparent to Browne.

"But with regard to what he says in the letter?" the young man at last exclaimed in desperation. "Will you be able to help me, do you think?"

"Ah! I know noddings about dat," answered Schmidt. "I do not understand what dis business is. If it is Chinese silk, or curios, or gondiments of any kind, den I know what you want. Dere is no one on dis island can subbly you so goot as Johann Schmidt."

Browne did not know what to say. For his own sake he knew that it would not be safe to broach such a delicate subject to a man, like the one seated before him, whose only idea in life seemed to be to cross one fat leg over the other and to fill and smoke his pipe until the room was one large tobacco-cloud, unless he was quite certain of that person's identity with the individual, to whom he had been directed to apply.

"To put the matter in a nutshell," said Browne, lowering his voice a little in order that it should not carry farther than the man seated before him, "I understood from Herr Sauber that if any one happened to have a friend, who had the misfortune to be compelled to stay rather longer in a certain place, than was quite conducive to his health or peace of mind, by applying to you an arrangement might possibly be made, whereby his release might be effected."

Herr Schmidt for the first time took the pipe out of his mouth and looked at him. "Bardon, mein frien, but I do not understand what is meant by dat speech," he replied. "If de place, where dat frien of yours is living, is not to his health suited, why does not he elsewhere go?"

Though Browne felt morally certain that the man understood what he meant, he did not feel justified in speaking more plainly at the moment. He had to feel his way before he definitely committed himself. However, a little reflection was sufficient to show him, that it would be impossible to make any progress at all unless he spoke out, and that even in the event of his doing so, he would not be placing himself in any way in the other's power. He accordingly resolved upon a line of action.

"The truth of the matter is, Herr Schmidt," he began, leaning a little forward, and speaking with all the emphasis of which he was master, "I happen to have a friend who is at the present time confined on a certain island. He is in delicate health, and his friends are anxious to get him away. Now, I have been informed that, if suitable terms can be arranged, it would be possible for you to effect this escape. Is this so?"

"Mine goot frien," returned the German, "let me tell you dat you speak too plain. The words dat you talk mit me would make trouble mit my friens de police. Besides, dere is no esgaping from der jail ubon dis island."

"I did not say anything about the jail upon this island," retorted Browne; "the place I mean is a very long way from here."

"Well then, Noumea, perhaps?"

"No, not Noumea," answered Browne. "If I am to enter into more explanations, I might say that my friend is a Russian, and that he is also a political prisoner." He stopped and watched Herr Schmidt's face anxiously. The latter was sitting bolt upright in his chair, with a fat hand resting on either knee; his spectacles were pushed on to the top of his head, and his long pipe was still in his mouth. Not a sign escaped him to show that he understood.

"I dink dat mein old comrade, Herr Sauber, must have been drunken mit too much schnapps when he talk mit you. What should Johann Schmidt have to do mit Russian bolitical brisoners? His piziness is mit de curios of China, mit silk, rice, ginger, but not mit de tings you do speak to him about."

"Then I am to understand that you can do nothing to help me?" said Browne, rising from his chair as if to take leave.

"For mineself it is not possible," returned the other, with great deliberation. "But since you are a frien of mein old comrade Sauber, den I tink over tings and gause inquiries to be made. Dis a very strange work is, and dere are many men in it. I do not tell you dat it gannot be done, but it will be difficult. Perhaps dere may be a man to be found who will gommunicate mit your friend."

The meaning of this speech was perfectly clear to him. In plain English, it, of course, meant that, while Herr Schmidt was not going to commit himself, he would find some one else who would.

"I should be under a life-long obligation if you would do so," answered Browne. "And what is more, I may as well say now I am not afraid to pay handsomely for the service rendered."

This time there was a twinkle to be seen in the German's eye. "I know noddings at all about what you speak; you will remember dot," continued he. "But I will do de best I can. If you write me now on a paper de name of your frien, and de place where he is – what shall we say? – now staying, I will let you know what de price would be, and when der work can be done. It will be – how you call it? – a ready-money transaction."

"I desire it to be so," replied Browne a little shortly.

There was silence between them for a few moments. Then Schmidt inquired where Browne's yacht was anchored. Browne informed him; and as he did so, it struck him that this was a rather curious remark upon his companion's part, if, as he had led him to believe at the beginning of the interview, he knew nothing whatever about his coming to Hong-kong. However, he did not comment upon it.

"Dat is goot, den," said Schmidt. "If I find a man who will run de risk, den I will gommunicate mit you before den o'clock to-night."

Browne thanked him; and, feeling that they had reached the end of the interview, bade him good-bye and passed through the shop out into the street once more. His coolie was still seated on the shafts of his rickshá; and, when Browne had mounted, they returned at a smart trot, by the way they had come, to the Club. Here he found his friends awaiting him. They had done the sights of the city, and were now eager to get back to the yacht once more.

CHAPTER XXII

"Did you find your friend Schmidt?" inquired their host of Browne as he seated himself in a chair and lit a cigar.

"Yes," the latter answered, "I found him, and a curious character he is. He has some wonderful curios in his shop, and I could have spent a day there overhauling them."

"I should be very careful, if I were you, what sort of dealings you have with him," said the other, with what struck Browne as a peculiar meaning. "He does not bear any too good a reputation in these parts. I have heard some funny stories about him at one time and another."

"Oh, you need not be afraid on my account," replied Browne. "As I told you in your office, my dealings with him are of a purely commercial character, and I don't think he has robbed me of very much so far. Now, what would you say if we were to make our way to the yacht?"

They accordingly adjourned to the boat. Perhaps, as the result of his interview that afternoon, Browne was in the highest of spirits. He did the honours of his table royally, and the new-comer, ever since that day, has been wont to declare that it was the jolliest dinner of which he has ever partaken in his life. How little he guessed the tragedy that was overhanging it all! Of the quartette, Maas was the only one in any way silent. For some reason or another he seemed strangely preoccupied. It was not until some months later that Browne heard from Jimmy Foote that that afternoon, during their perambulations of the city, he had excused himself, and having discovered the direction of the telegraph station, had left them for upwards of three-quarters of an hour.

"I am not quite myself to-night," he remarked, in reply to a remark from Browne. "But I have no doubt I shall be all right again to-morrow."

Dinner being at an end, they adjourned to the deck, where they settled down to coffee and cigars. The myriad lights of the city ashore flashed out, and were reflected like countless diamonds in the still waters of the bay. Browne was irresistibly reminded of another harbour-scene. At another momentous epoch of his life, he had sat on this self-same deck, and looked across the water at the lights ashore. And what a different man he had been then to the man he was now! So much had happened that it seemed scarcely possible it could be the same.

Their friend of the afternoon proved a most interesting companion. He had spent the greater portion of his life in the Farthest East, and was full of anecdotes of strange men he had met, and still stranger things he had seen. They reclined in their deck-chairs and smoked until close upon ten o'clock. Then the new-comer thought it was time for him to see about getting ashore. He accordingly rose from his chair, and was commencing the usual preparatory speeches, when a hail from alongside reached their ears. A quartermaster went to the bulwark and inquired who was calling, and what he wanted. A voice answered him in educated English: —

"Can you tell me if this is the Lotus Blossom?" it said.

"Yes," answered the quartermaster. "What do you want?"

"I want to see Mr. Browne, if he is aboard," the other answered.

"He is aboard," returned the quartermaster. "But I don't know whether he can see you. I will inquire."

"Who is he?" asked Browne. "Tell him to give you his name."

The quartermaster hailed the sampan again. "He says his name is MacAndrew, sir," he replied after a short pause, "and if you will see him, he says he will not detain you many minutes."

"Let him come aboard, then," said Browne. "Just tell him to look sharp." Then, turning to his guests, he continued, "I wonder who the fellow is, and what he wants with me at this hour of the night." In his own heart he thought he knew pretty well.

"By the way," remarked his guest, "I should advise you to keep your eyes open while you are in this port. You can have no idea what queer sort of people you will have to do with; but when I tell you that it is the favourite meeting-place for half the villains of the East, you will have some very good notion."

"Thanks for the warning," returned Browne. "I'll bear it in mind."

He had scarcely finished speaking, before the figure of a man appeared at the top of the gangway and came towards them. He was tall and slimly built, was dressed entirely in white, and wore a helmet of the same colour upon his head. From an indescribable something about him – it may possibly have been his graceful carriage or the drawl in his voice when he spoke – he might very well have passed for a gentleman.

"Mr. Browne?" he began, lifting his hat, and, as he did so, looking from one to another of the group.

"My name is Browne," said the young man, stepping forward. "What can I do for you?"

"I should be glad if you would favour me with a few minutes' private conversation," answered the other. "My business is important, but it will not detain you very long."

"I can easily do that," replied Browne, and as he said it his guest of the evening came forward to bid him good-bye.

"Must you really go?" Browne inquired.

"I am afraid I must," the other responded; "the boat has been alongside for some considerable time, and to-morrow the homeward mail goes out, and I have my letters to finish. I must thank you for a very jolly evening. My only regret is that you are not staying longer in Hong-kong. However, I hope we shall see you on the return voyage, when you must let us entertain you, in a somewhat better fashion, than we have been able to do to-day."

"I shall be delighted," said Browne as he shook hands; but in his own heart he was reflecting that, when he did return that way, there would, in all probability, be some one with him, who would exercise such control over his time and amusements, that bachelor pleasures would be out of the question. The man having taken his departure, Browne begged his friends to excuse him for a few moments, and then passed down the deck towards the tall individual, whom he could see waiting for him at the saloon entrance. "Now, sir," he began, "if you wish to see me, I am at your disposal."

"In that case, let us walk a little farther aft," replied the tall man. "Let us find a place where we shall run no risks of being disturbed."

"This way, then," said Browne, and led him along the deck towards the taffrail. He climbed up on to the rail, while his companion seated himself on the stern grating. The light from the after-skylight fell upon his face, and Browne saw that it was a countenance cast in a singularly handsome mould. The features were sharp and clear cut, the forehead broad, and the mouth and chin showing signs of considerable determination. Taken altogether, it was the face of a man who, having embarked upon a certain enterprise, would carry it through, or perish in the attempt. Having lit a cigarette and thrown the match overboard, he began to speak.

"It has been brought to my knowledge," he began, "that you are anxious to carry out a certain delicate piece of business connected with an island, a short distance to the north of Japan. Is that so?"

"Before you go any farther," continued Browne, "perhaps it would be as well for you to say whether or not you come from Johann Schmidt."

"Johann Schmidt!" replied the other, with some little astonishment. "Who the devil is he? I don't know that I ever heard of him."

It was Browne's turn this time to feel surprised. "I asked because I understood that he was going to send some one to me this evening."

"That is very possible," MacAndrew answered; "but let me make it clear to you that I know nothing whatsoever of him; in matters like this, Mr. Browne, you will find it best to know nothing of anybody."

After this plain speech, Browne thought he had grasped the situation. "We will presume, then, that you know nothing of our friend Johann," he said. "Perhaps you have a plan worked out, and can tell me exactly what I ought to do to effect the object I have in view."

"It is for that reason that I am here," resumed MacAndrew, with business-like celerity, as he flicked the ash from his cigarette. "I've got the plan fixed up, and I think I can tell you exactly how the matter in question is going to be arranged. To begin with, I may as well inform you that it is going to be an expensive business."

"Expense is no difficulty to me," replied Browne. "I am, of course, quite prepared to pay a large sum, provided it is in reason, and I am assured in my own mind, that the work will be carried out in a proper manner. How much do you think it will cost me?"

"Five thousand pounds in good, solid English gold," answered MacAndrew; "and what is more, the money must be paid down before I put my hand to the job."

"But, pardon my alluding to it, what sort of a check am I going to have upon you?" Browne next inquired. "How am I to know that you won't take the money and clear out?"

"You've got to risk that," said MacAndrew calmly. "I see no other way out of it. You must trust me absolutely; if you don't think you can, say so, and I'll have nothing whatever to do with it. I won't make you any promises, because that's not my way; but I fancy when the business is finished you'll be satisfied."

"I hope so," returned Browne, with a smile. "But can you give me no sort of guarantee at all?"

"I don't see that I can," muttered MacAndrew. "In cases like this a guarantee is a thing which would be a very unmarketable commodity. In other words, we don't keep them in stock."

"It's to be a case of my putting my money in the slot, then, and you do the rest?"

"As the Yankees say," said the other, "I reckon that is so. No, Mr. Browne, I'm very much afraid you must rest content with my bare word. If you think I'm straight enough to pull you through, try me; if not, as I said just now, have nothing more to do with me. I cannot speak fairer than that, I think, and I shall now leave it to you to decide."

"Well, I must see your plan," continued Browne. "When I have done that it is just possible that I may see my way to undertaking the business."

"The plan, then, by all means," replied the other, and, as he did so, he thrust his hand into his pocket and drew out an envelope, which he handed to Browne. "Here it is. I have roughly sketched it all out for you. You had better read it when you are alone in your cabin, and after you have got it by heart be sure to burn it carefully. I wrote it down in case I should not be able to see you, and also fearing, even if I did have speech with you, I might not be able to say what I wanted to, without being overheard. I will come off at daybreak to-morrow morning for your answer. In the meantime you can think it over. Will that suit you?"

"Admirably," said Browne. "I will let you know my decision then without fail."

"In that case, good-night."

"Good-night. I shall expect you in the morning."

"In the morning."

A quarter of an hour later Browne was alone in his own cabin. Having locked his door, he took the letter, the other had given him, from his pocket and opened it. A half-sheet of note-paper, upon which scarcely five hundred words were written, was all he found. But these words, he knew, meant all the world to him. He read and re-read them, and, as soon as he had got them by heart, lit a match and set fire to the paper, which was reduced to ashes. Then he returned to the deck, where Maas and Foote were still seated, and settled himself down for a chat. They had not been there many minutes before Maas found, that he had smoked the last cigar of a particular brand he affected, and rose to go to his cabin in search of another. He had not been very long absent before Browne remembered that he had left the envelope of MacAndrew's letter on his dressing-table. Accordingly he set off in search of it, intending to destroy it as he had done its contents. Having reached the companion, he was descending to the saloon below, when a sound resembling the careful, though hurried, closing of a door attracted his attention. A moment later he stepped into the saloon, to find Maas there, who, for once in his life, appeared to be flurried and put out by something.

"I have lost my cigar-case, my dear Browne," he said, as if in explanation. "Is it not annoying?"

Browne felt sure that this was not the truth. However, he did not say so, but when he had condoled with him, entered his own cabin, where a surprise was in store for him. The envelope he had come down to burn, and which he distinctly remembered having placed upon the table less than half an hour before, was missing. Some one had taken it!