come to speak Chinese?’ he asked, with a sudden return of suspicion.
‘My parents were missionaries,’ explained Derrick: he was feeling suddenly very weary, and he wanted above all to ask for the Professor to be taken care of; but the Tu-chun went on, ‘Where is Loss?’
‘In Liao Meng, I think – but please could I go and see to my cousin? He was hit on the head. He is an old, learned man, and he was hit on the head like a – like a beast,’ cried Derrick, with a sudden burst of rage at the memory of it.
Hsien Lu murmured a quick order, and two officers hurried from the tent. ‘Never mind,’ he said to Derrick, ‘he will be looked after. Now tell me where they started from, and where they were going.’
Derrick had lived in China nearly all his life: he knew that he would never be able to sit down in the presence of an elder, let alone a Tu-chun, however weary and faint he might be, so he gathered his wits, concentrated his attention, and answered Hsien Lu’s questions as clearly and as briefly as he could. The war-lord went on and on; he wanted to know a great deal, and Derrick had to stifle gigantic yawns. Soon he was conscious of the Tu-chun’s voice alone, coming as from a great distance: he jerked himself into wakefulness, and answered ‘Yes’ at haphazard. He kept himself alert for some time, but then again the voice went booming on: it was somewhere in the distance, and it seemed to be stating that Ross and Sullivan had blown up four competing pirate junks in the harbour of Pu Ying itself, the stronghold of the society of the Everlasting Wrong: but that might have been a dream; it came and went in snatches, and in another moment Derrick was fast asleep where he stood.
He woke up suddenly, and it was the morning. He was in a strange bed, and for some time he could not remember where he was. Li Han stood beside him, offering a cup of tea: on the other side of the tent Professor Ayrton lay on a comfortable palliasse, already sipping at a bowl of tea. His head was bandaged, but he seemed quite recovered. He nodded to Derrick and said, ‘Good morning, my boy. How do you feel?’
‘Fine, thank you, sir. How is your head?’
‘It spins like a teetotum, but it appears to be whole, which is a blessing. I must admit, however, that I deserved the blow. I am afraid that my ill-timed enthusiasm for the abbot’s stelae overruled my caution. We might easily have been caught by Shun Chi instead of the excellent Hsien Lu, and then we should have been in a pretty mess, as I believe the phrase goes. What a deserving man the Tu-chun appears to be: he came to me by candle-light to offer his compliments and excuses, and he assured me that if it would afford me the slightest pleasure he would arrange to have the soldier who was so impetuous with his rifle-butt tortured to death in front of this tent at sunrise, together with the officer. He seemed quite disappointed when I declined the entertainment, but I made up for it by complimenting him on his English – which he appears to have picked up in the Philippines, by the way – and by telling him that of all the military men I had ever met in China he was by far the most swollen guy. It gratified him very much.’
‘I’m sure it did, sir,’ said Derrick, taking his tea. ‘How did you get here, Li Han?’
‘During arbitrary arrest of worthy sage,’ said Li Han, bowing towards the Professor. ‘I imitated humble but cautious earthworm in nook, or cranny, of temple wall, and subsequently pursued brutal and licentious soldiery at discreet distance for more than twenty li. On perceiving honourable welcome accorded by Tu-chun when all was understood, ventured to insinuate self into tent and proclaim humble presence.’
Hsien Lu hurried into the tent; he was so moved that he could hardly complete the long drawn-out ceremonial greetings before he said, ‘Shun Chi has taken Ross and Sullivan. They were ambushed on the way to Liao-Meng. I must go and give orders. If you have any charms, Ayrton lao-yeh, use them now.’ He hurried away.
There was a profound silence.
‘What do you think will happen, sir?’ asked Derrick, at last.
‘I hesitate to think,’ replied the Professor, seriously. ‘This Shun Chi hates all foreigners, except for the Russian agitators who are egging him on to clear China of all Europeans and Americans. It is just possible that he will hold them to ransom, but …’ his voice tailed away uncertainly.
‘Will Hsien Lu be able to smash Shun Chi’s army?’
‘No. That is the worst aspect of the whole affair. Shun Chi has already driven Hsien Lu out of Liao-Meng. Formerly Hsien Lu could cope with him, but recently Shun Chi has received modern arms from the Russians, together with military advisers and experts in the use of the new weapons; whereas Hsien Lu has to rely on old-fashioned rifles and the usual Chinese tactics of wearing hideous masks in battle and letting off crackers. He cannot possibly face Shun Chi’s machine-guns. And now they say that Shun Chi has three tanks, and that he is advancing with them to bring matters to a decisive close.’
‘I suppose they took us for Russians when they captured us.’
‘Yes. That was why they were so unpleasant. Hsien Lu has captured one – he is going to cut off his head this afternoon.’
‘Couldn’t you beg him off?’
‘I doubt it. And after all, the man has asked for it. It seems to me a very wicked thing to bring modern arms into this part of the world to enable this rascal Shun Chi to slaughter anyone who opposes his ambitions. Before these Russians came the Tu-chun and the rebels were comparatively harmless: they more or less played at war, and very rarely killed anybody. The armies used to take the field with umbrellas and tea-pots, and they would stop the battle if it came on to rain. But now it is all different: there is really savage warfare breaking out, and thousands of innocent people are going to be murdered.’
‘Why do they do it?’
‘They have ends of their own to serve. I have a mind to question this prisoner: he might give us some useful information. If the Tu-chun will promise me his life I may be able to get something out of him. A man will do a lot for his life.’
‘But do you speak Russian, Professor?’
‘Yes, indeed. I studied for many years in St Petersburg before the revolution, and I have a White Russian colleague at the university with whom I always speak in that language. I dare say that I could pass for a Russian myself, if the need arose.’
After a short consultation with Hsien Lu they went to the tent where the prisoner lay. He was a tall, fair man, dressed in the Mongolian style, with high boots and a sheepskin jerkin. For a long while the Professor spoke to him, but the man only replied in monosyllables.
‘I shall have to try something else,’ said the Professor, leaving the tent. He walked up and down, thinking. Then he said, ‘We shall go back now. When I turn to you and say something that you do not understand, you must reply “Da, da.” Then a little later I will tell you to do something and you must say “Ochen chorosho, tovarich” and leave the tent. Repeat that several times, will you?’
When Derrick was word-perfect they went back to the tent. The Professor spoke in a low, urgent voice to the prisoner: the man seemed to come alive; he answered many times – long, whispered sentences that sounded like questions. The Professor appeared to be reassuring him; he turned to Derrick and said something, looking at him with hidden meaning. ‘Da, da,’ said Derrick. And then, a little later, the Professor turned to him and said something that sounded like an order. Derrick said, ‘Ochen chorosho, tovarich,’ and hurried out.
He had a long time to wait. He paced up and down until the sun was high up in the sky. At last the Professor came out, with a triumphant look on his face.
