went on a mission to Persia in 126 B.C. to procure horses for the Han emperor Wu.
“Well, the word used in China since that time for alfalfa, that is, the Medicago sativa, has always been mu-su, and it has puzzled Sinologues as to origin. I have finally traced the term back to a lost Iranian word, which will have the general form of buksuk. When my monograph on the subject has been published, Breck, it will absolutely confound the world! Just think how far astray even men like Hirth and Giles have gone!”
I agreed with him that it was a terrible thing.
“For the last three weeks,” he went on eagerly, “I have been working night and day on the problem, and my manuscript is now practically finished. I only came into the city today in order to obtain this copy of the Yuan Shi, of which I was informed by friends. I hope to take up the study of Persian influences in China of the Yuan or Mongol period, and this original edition of the chronicles will be invaluable.”
I let him talk on. While Groot had been poring over some temple library, chasing mu-su back two or three thousand years until he finally hypnotized himself into thinking he had arrived somewhere, China had been waking up. The southern and western provinces were firmly established under the Shanghai government. Peking’s old mandarins, struggling along to save their face and secretly powerless against the tide of corruption, were practically disowned by the country at large. It was war; not open war, but a submarine fight to save the oldest empire and youngest republic of Asia from the Prussianized liars whose system depended upon maintaining the Mikado as the last autocratic Caesar of the world.
Japan, as a nation, was well enough. It was the politicians, the German-trained horde of caste, who were playing the devil with things. Politicians are the curse of every country. Japan, in the persons of her best men, wished China well; but her politicians were resolved to destroy China. And against them, like a wall, stood the enlightened, patriotic group of men who had sworn never to see their country degraded.
“Where are you stopping?” I asked Groot, who did not realize that I was pumping him.
“At Hsi-hsin-ho, Heart-resting-place. It’s a small temple, but goes back to the Chin dynasty; has a wonderful library. It’s about seven miles outside town—”
“Oh, I know about it,” I responded, with some truth. I knew no good of it, either. “Did anybody give you a message to bring into town?”
Groot, poor innocent soul, regarded me with astonishment.
“Why, how did you guess, Breck? Yes, I brought in a note from one of the priests, who has a cousin here. Poor chap, he’s in very bad health—”
“What’s his name?” I cut in. “The chap here in the city, I mean.”
Groot told me. I jotted down the name and address, together with a note to the military governor, called the tea-room proprietor and ordered the message sent to the yamen. By this time Groot suspected something was up.
“See here, Breck, just what does all this mystery mean?”
“No mystery,” and I grinned. “You’re in bad hands, old man, and you’d better stop over for a day or two until we get things straightened out—”
“Stop over!” he exclaimed. “Why Breck, it’s impossible! I promised Mary I’d be back—”
“Mary!” It was my turn to stare. “Who the devil is Mary? Are you married?”
“Mary’s my niece—Mary Fisher. Bless my soul, didn’t I tell you she was with me? And we expected Baron Rosoff to arrive today for a week or so. You must come out and see us, Breck!”
“Don’t worry,” I said grimly. “I will. Just at present, Groot, you’re under arrest.”
At that, poor Groot only looked bewildered. It took me half an hour to convince him that he and Mary Fisher were up to their necks in hot water.
CHAPTER II
John Li Dies
It was true that I was in charge of the aviation work here. But I was actually unattached and my own boss. Having been born a missionary’s son, and having spent my childhood in China, I knew the upcountry dialects fairly well; and consequently was putting it to use.
There is absolutely no red tape to the Shanghai government—those chaps are doers! I was engaged as an aviator, set to work as a constructing engineer, and given a free hand as a sort of secret service emissary. I was needed badly, too. Szechwan is one of the richest provinces in the country, and Peking would leave no stone unturned to get her back.
There was no doubt that Alan Groot was being utilized and had been utilized in a dozen ways of which he had no idea, and he was extremely shocked when I made the fact clear. He stated that he would resign his position immediately.
“Do it,” I told him, “but that isn’t going to save your niece.”
“Save her? From what?” he inquired.
“Blessed if I know; but they had some purpose in letting her come with you. Of course I could march some soldiers out to your temple, but we’d gain nothing by using force just now. There are scores of temples scattered over the hills and plain, and if we know just which one is the focus of intrigue, we can handle things. I’d like to get Mary Fisher out of there, though. Who’s this Baron Rosey?”
“Rosoff,” he corrected. “A Russian nobleman and scientist who is coming down from Peking.”
“Hm! I don’t know the name, but there are a lot of Russians running loose in these parts. Well, Groot, do you want to take my advice or go under arrest?”
“My dear boy, are you really in earnest? Why—why, your advice will be excellent, no doubt!” Poor Groot was rather agitated. “I’ll take it, by all means.”
I reflected. There was no use my going to the Heart-resting-place with Groot as a tourist friend, for I was no doubt a marked man. If I went at all, I must go in uniform. By this time, I had no doubt, every spy within the city walls knew that I had fallen in with Groot.
“You’re my prisoner,” I said at last, “and I’ll accept your parole on condition that you don’t breathe to a soul what I’ve been telling you. Agreed?”
“Certainly, Breck, certainly! But about Mary—and my manuscripts—”
“Coming to that. This copy of the Yuan Shi,” and I kicked the sack, “can go to my quarters. The chap who sold it to you was a disguised Korean, by the way. There are many of them in Jap pay, for they can pass as Chinese better than the brown brothers can. Now, you and I will hire a couple of sedan chairs and go out to your temple. Introduce me as an aviator.”
“But, my dear fellow, won’t that be dangerous?”
“Not particularly,” I returned. “I have a hunch, however, that your Russian friend is going to be a blamed sight more dangerous. Alan, old boy, you’d better come out of the alfalfa and get down to brass tacks! There are rocks ahead.”
I wrote a note, reporting what I had discovered and where I was going. This I dispatched to the yamen by our coolie, who also took the sack of chronicles to leave at my quarters. This done, we left the tea-house and hired two four-man chairs. It was nearly five in the afternoon, and we ought to
