Doctor Nikola (Windsor Magazine, 1896)/Chapter 5

left the room in which Nikola had settled himself I found myself in the passage, where I was accosted by the same doorkeeper who had admitted us to the house, and who now preceded and ushered me into the street. Once there I discovered that the condition of the night had changed. When we had left Mr. Williams' residence it was bright starlight, now heavy black clouds covered the face of the sky, and as I passed down the street in the direction of the English Concession a heavy peal of thunder rumbled overhead. It was nearly eleven o'clock, and, as I could not help thinking, a curious quiet lay upon the native city. There was an air of suppressed excitement about those Chinamen whom I met that puzzled me, and when I came upon knots of them at street corners, such scraps of conversation as I was able to overhear did not disabuse my mind of the idea that some disturbance was in active preparation. However I had not time to pay much attention to them. I had to find Mr. Williams' house, give him the letter, and get back to Nikola with as little delay as possible.

At last I reached the Concession, passed the consul's house, and finally arrived at the bungalow of which I was in search.

A bright light shone from one of the windows and towards it I directed my steps. On reaching it I discovered the owner of the house seated at a large table writing. I tapped softly upon the pane, whereupon he rose and came towards me. That he did not recognise me was evident by his reception of me.

“What do you want?” he asked in Chinese as he opened the window.

Bending a little forward so as to reach his ear I whispered the following sentence into it: “I should like to ask your honourable presence one simple question.”

“This is not the time to ask questions however simple,” he replied; “you must come round in the morning.”

“But the morning will be too late,” I answered earnestly. “I tell you by the spirit of your ancestors that what I have to say must be said to-night.”

“Then come and for mercy's sake say it,” he replied a little testily, and beckoned me into the room. I did as he desired, and seated myself on the stool before him, covering my hands with my great sleeves in the orthodox fashion. Then, remembering the Chinese love of procrastination, I began to work the conversation in and out through various channels until I saw that his patience was well-nigh exhausted. Still however he did not recognise me. Then leaning towards him I said—

“Are you aware, Mr. Williams, that your house has been watched since sundown?”

“By whom, and for what reason?” he inquired, looking, I thought, a little uncomfortable.

“By three men, and because of two strangers who arrived by the mail boat this afternoon.”

“What strangers?” he inquired innocently. But I noticed that he looked at me rather more fixedly than before.

“The man whom we call 'The man with the devil's eyes'—but whom you call Nikola—and his companion.”

I gave Nikola's name as nearly as a Chinaman would be able to pronounce it, and then waited to see what he would say next. That he was disconcerted was plain enough, but that he did not wish to commit himself was also very evident. He endeavoured to temporise, but as this was not to my taste I revealed my identity by saying in my natural voice and in English—

“It would seem that my disguise is a very good one, Mr. Williams.”

He stared at me.

“Surely you are not Mr. Bruce?” he cried.

“I am,” I answered, “and what's more I am here on an important errand. I have brought you a letter from Nikola, which you must read and act upon at once.”

As I spoke I produced from a pocket in my sleeve the letter Nikola had given me and handed it to him. He sat down again at the table and perused it carefully. When he had done so once he read it again, then a third time. Having at last got it by heart he went across the room to a safe in the corner. Having unlocked it he opened a drawer and carefully placed the slip of paper in it. Then he came back and took up his old seat again. I noticed that his forehead was contracted with thought, and that there was an expression of perplexity, and one might have almost said of doubt, about his mouth. At last he spoke.

“I know you are in most of Nikola's secrets, Mr. Bruce,” he said, “but are you aware of the contents of this letter?”

“Does it refer to the man who is expected in Pekin to take up the third stick in the society?”

“Yes,” he answered slowly, stabbing at his blotting-pad with the point of a pen as he did so, “it does. It refers to him very vitally.”

“You are revolving in your mind the advisability of what Nikola says about abducting him I suppose?”

“Exactly. Can Nikola be aware, think you, that the man in question was chief priest of one of the biggest Hankow temples?”

“I have no doubt that he is. But you say 'was.' Has the man then resigned his appointment in order to embrace this new calling?”

“I suppose so.”

“Well in that case it seems to me that the difficulty is considerably lessened.”

“In one direction, perhaps; but then it is increased in another. If he is still a priest and we abduct him then we fight the Government and the Church. On the other hand, if he is no longer a priest, and the slightest suspicion of what we are about to do leaks out, then we shall have to fight a society which is ten times as powerful as any government or priesthood in the world.”

“You have Nikola's instructions I suppose?”

“Yes, and I confess I would rather deal with the Government of China and the millions of the society than disobey him in one single particular. But let me tell you this, Mr. Bruce, if Nikola is pig-headed enough to continue his quest in the face of this awful uncertainty I would not give a penny piece for either his life or that of the man who accompanies him. Consider for one moment what I mean. This society, into whose secrets he is so anxious to penetrate—and how much better he will be when he has done so he alone knows—is without doubt the most powerful in the whole wide world. If rumour is to be believed its list of members exceeds twenty millions. It has representatives in almost every town and village in the length and breadth of this great land, to say nothing of Malaysia, Australia and America; its rules are most exacting, and when you reflect for one moment that our friend is going to impersonate one of the three leaders of this gigantic force, with chances of detection menacing him at every turn, you will see for yourself what a foolhardy undertaking it is.”

“I must own I agree with you, but still he is Nikola.”

“Yes. In that you sum up everything. He is NIKOLA|”

“Then what answer am I to take back to him?”

“That I will proceed with the work at once. Stay, I will write it down, that there may be no possible mistake.”

So saying he wrote for a moment, and when his letter was completed handed it to me.

I rose to go.

“And with regard to those telegrams?” I said.

“I will despatch them myself the very moment the office is open,” he answered. “I have given Nikola an assurance to that effect in my letter.”

“We leave at daybreak for Pekin, so I will wish you good-bye now.”

“You have no thought of turning back, I suppose?”

“Not the very slightest.”

“You're a plucky man.”

“I suppose I must be. But there is an old saying that just meets my case.”

“And that is?”

“'Needs must when'”

“Well, shall we say when Nikola?”

“Yes. 'Needs must when Nikola drives.' Good-bye.”

“Good-bye, and may good luck go with you.”

I shook hands with him at the front door and then descended the steps and set off on my return to the native city. As I left the street in which the bungalow stood a clock struck twelve. The clouds, which had been so heavy when I set out, had now drawn off the sky, and it was bright starlight.

As I entered the town proper my first impression was in confirmation of my original feeling that something out of the common was about to happen. Nor was I deceived. Hardly had I gone a hundred yards before a tumult of angry voices broke upon my ear. The sound increased in volume, and presently an excited mob poured into the street along which I was making my way. Had it been possible I would have turned down a bypath and so escaped them, but now this was quite impossible. They had hemmed me in on every side, and, willy-nilly, I was compelled to go with them.

For nearly half a mile they carried me on in this fashion, then, leaving the thoroughfare along which they had hitherto passed, they turned sharply to the right hand and brought up before a moderate-sized house having a double frontage and standing at a corner. Wondering what it all might mean, I accosted a youth standing by my side and questioned him. His answer was brief, but to the point—

“Kueidzu!” (devil) he cried, and picking up a stone hurled it through the nearest window.

The house, I soon discovered, was the residence of a missionary, who, I was relieved to hear, was absent from home. As I could see the mob was bent on wrecking his dwelling I left them to their work and proceeded on my way again. But though I did not know it yet another adventure was in store for me.

As I turned from the street into which I had passed from that in which the mob was destroying the residence of the missionary, I heard a shrill cry for help. I immediately came to a standstill in order to discover whence it had proceeded. I had not long to wait, however, before I found it, for almost as I stopped it rang out again. This time it undoubtedly came from a dark lane on my right. Without a second's thought I picked up my heels and ran across to it. At first it was so dark I could see nothing; then at the further end I made out three figures, and towards them I hastened. When I got there I found that one was a girl, the second an old man, who was stretched upon the ground; both were English, but their assailant was an active young fellow of the coolie class. He was standing over the man's body menacing the girl with a knife. My sandals made no noise upon the road, and as I came up on the dark side of the street neither of the trio noticed my presence until I was close upon them. But swift as I was I was hardly quick enough, for just as I arrived the girl threw herself upon the man, who at the same instant raised his arm and plunged his knife into her shoulder. It could not have penetrated very deep however before my fist was in his face. He rolled over like a ninepin, and for a moment lay on the ground without moving. But he did not remain there very long. Recovering his senses he sprang to his feet and bolted down the street, yelling “''Kueidzu! kueidzu!”'' at the top of his voice, in the hope of bringing the mob to his assistance.

Before he was out of sight I was kneeling by the side of the girl upon the ground. She was unconscious. Her face was deadly pale, and I saw that her left shoulder was soaked in blood. From her I turned to the old man. He was a fine-looking old fellow, fairly well dressed and boasting a venerable white beard. He lay stretched out at full length, and one glance at his face was sufficient to tell me his fate. How it had been caused I could not tell, but there was no doubt about the fact that he was dead. When I had convinced myself of this I went back to the girl. Her eyes were open, and as I knelt beside her she said—

“What has happened?”

“You have been wounded,” I answered.

“And my father?”

“I am sorry to have to say that he is dead.”

With that she uttered a little cry and for a moment lost consciousness again. I did not however wait to question her any further but went across to where her father lay and picking the body up in my arms carried it across the street to a dark corner. Having placed it there I returned to the girl and lifting her on to my shoulder ran down the street in the direction I had come as fast as I could go. In the distance I could hear the noise of the mob, who were still engaged wrecking the unfortunate missionary's dwelling.

Arriving at the spot where I had stood when I first heard the cry for help, I picked up my old course and proceeded along it to my destination. In something less than ten minutes I had reached the house and knocked, in the same peculiar manner, upon the door, which was immediately opened. As soon as I had given the password I was admitted with my burden. If the custodian of the door thought anything he did not give utterance to it but permitted me to reach the second door unmolested.

Again I knocked, and once more the door was opened. But this time I was not to pass unchallenged. Though I had given the password correctly the giant bade me wait while he scrutinised the burden in my arms.

“What have you there?” he asked.

“Have you the right to ask?” I said. “Stand aside or there are those who will make you pay for stopping me.”

He looked a trifle disconcerted, and after a moment's hesitation signed to me to pass. I took him at his word and proceeded into the room where I had left my chief. That Nikola was eagerly expecting me I gathered from the pleasure my appearance gave him.

“You are late,” he cried, coming quickly across to me, and at the same instant closing the door behind me. “I have been expecting you this hour past. But what have you got there?”

“A girl,” I answered, “the daughter of a missionary I believe. She has been wounded, and even now is unconscious. If I had not discovered her she would have been killed by the man who murdered her father.”

“But what on earth made you bring her here?”

“What else could I do? Her father is dead, and I believe the mob has wrecked her house?”

“Put her down,” said Nikola, “and let me look at her.”

I did as he bade me, and thereupon he set to work to examine her wound. With a deftness extraordinary, and a tenderness of which one would hardly have believed him capable, he bathed the wound with water, which I procured from the adjoining room, then having anointed it with some stuff from a small medicine chest he always carried about with him, he bound it up with a piece of Chinese cloth. When his work was finished he said—

“Lift her up while I try the effect of this upon her.”

From a pocket he took a small cut-glass bottle, shaped something like that which European ladies use for carrying smelling-salts, and having opened her mouth poured a few drops of what it contained upon her tongue. Almost instantly she opened her eyes, looked about her, and seeing, as she supposed, two Chinamen bending over her, fell back with an expression of abject terror on her face. But Nikola, who was still kneeling beside her, reassured her, saying in English—

“You need have no fear. You are in safe hands. We will protect you, come what may.”

His speech seemed to recall her to a remembrance of what had happened.

“Oh, my poor father!” she cried. “What have you done with him?”

“To save your life,” I answered, “I was compelled to leave his body in the street where I had found it, but it is quite safe.”

“I must go and get it,” she said. And as she spoke she tried to rise, but Nikola put out his hand and stayed her.

“You must not move,” he said. “Leave everything to me. I will take care that your father's body is found and protected.”

“But I must go home.”

“My poor girl,” said Nikola tenderly, “you do not know everything. You have no home to go to. It was wrecked by the mob this evening.”

“Oh dear! oh dear! Then what is to become of me? They have killed my father, and wrecked our house! And we trusted them so.”

Without further discussion Nikola rose and left the room. Presently he returned and again approached the girl.

“I have sent men to find your father's body,” he said. “It will be conveyed to a safe place, and within half an hour the English consul will be on the trail of his murderer. Now tell me how it all occurred.”

“I will tell you what I can,” she answered. “But it seems so little to have brought about so terrible a result. My father and I left our home this evening at half-past seven to hold a service in the little church our few converts had built for us. During the course of the service it repeatedly struck me that there was something wrong, and when we came out and saw the crowd that had collected at the door of the little building this impression was confirmed. Whether they intended to attack us or not I cannot say, but just as we were leaving a shout was raised, and instantly off the mob set, I suppose in the direction of our house. I can see that now, though we did not suspect it then. Fearing to follow in the same direction we passed down a side street, intending to proceed home by another route. But as we left the main thoroughfare and turned into the dark lane where you found us, a man rushed out upon my father and with a thick stick or a bar of iron felled him to the ground. I endeavoured to protect him and to divert his attention to myself, whereupon he drew a knife and stabbed me in the shoulder. Then you came up and drove him off.”

As she said this she raised my hand and kissed it.

“I cannot tell you how grateful I am to you,” she said.

“It was a very small service,” I answered, feeling a little confused by her action. “I only wished I had arrived upon the scene earlier.”

“Now whatever am I to do?”

“Have you any friends in Tientsin,” inquired Nikola. “Anyone to whom you can go?”

“No, we know no one at all,” the girl replied. “But I have a sister in Pekin, the wife of a missionary there. Could you help me to get so far?”

“Though I cannot take you myself,” said Nikola, “if you like I will put you in the way of getting there. In the meantime you must not remain in my house. Do not be afraid however, I will see that you are properly taken care of.”

Again he left the room, and while he was gone I looked more closely at the girl whom I had rescued. Her age might have been anything from twenty to twenty-three, her face was a perfect oval in shape, her skin was the most delicate I had ever seen, her mouth was small, and her eyes and hair were a beautiful shade of brown. But it was her sweet expression which was the chief charm of her face, and this was destined to haunt me for many a long day to come.

I don't think I can be accused of being a ladies' man (somehow or another I have never been thrown much into woman's society), but I must confess when I looked into this girl's face a thrill, such as I had never experienced before, passed over me.

“How can I ever thank you for your goodness?” she asked simply.

“By bearing your trouble bravely,” I answered. “And now may I ask your name?”

“Why not? My name is Medwin, Gladys Mary Medwin. And yours?”

“It ought to be Mah Poo in this dress, oughtn't it? In reality it is Wilfred Bruce.”

“But why are you disguised in this fashion?”

“That I am sorry to say I cannot tell you,” I answered. “Do you know, Miss Medwin, it is just possible that you may be the last Englishwoman I shall ever speak to in my life?”

“What do you mean?” she asked.

“Again I can only say that I cannot tell you. But I may tell you this much, that I am going away in a few hours' time to undertake something which more probably than not will mean that I shall lose my life. I don't know why I should say this to you, but one cannot be prosaic at such moments as these. Besides I seem to have known you for years. You say I have done you a service, will you do one for me?”

“What can I do?” she asked, placing her little hand upon my arm.

“This ring,” I said, at the same time drawing a plain gold circlet from my finger, “was my poor mother's last gift to me. I dare not take it with me where I am going. Would it be too much to ask you to keep it for me? In the event of my not returning, you might promise me to wear it as a little memento of the service you say I have done you to-night. It would be pleasant to think that I have one woman friend in the world.”

As I spoke I raised the hand that lay upon my arm, and holding it in mine placed the ring upon her finger.

“I will keep it for you with pleasure,” she said. “But is this work upon which you are embarking really so dangerous?”

“More so than you can imagine,” I replied. “But be sure of this, Miss Medwin, if I do come out of it alive I will find you out and claim that ring.”

“I will remember,” she answered, and just as she had finished speaking Nikola re-entered the room.

“My dear young lady,” he said hurriedly, “I have made arrangements for your safe conduct to the house of a personal friend, who will do all he can for you while you remain in Tientsin. Then as soon as you can leave this place he will have you escorted carefully to your sister in Pekin. Now I think you had better be going. A conveyance is at the door, and my friend will be waiting to receive you. Mr. Bruce will you conduct Miss Medwin to the chair.”

“You are too good to me.”

“Not at all. You will amply compensate me if you will grant me one favour in return.”

“How can I serve you?”

“By never referring in any way to the fact of your having met us. When I tell you that our lives will in a great measure depend upon your reticence I feel sure you will comply with my request.”

“Not a word shall escape my lips.”

Nikola bowed and then almost abruptly turned on his heel and walked away. Seeing that it was meant as a signal that she should depart, I led the way out of the room down the passage and through the front door into the street, where a chair was in waiting. Having placed her in it I bade her good-bye in a whisper.

“Good-bye,” I said. “If ever I return alive I will inquire for you at the house to which you are now going.”

“Good-bye, and may God protect you!”

She took my hand in hers and next moment I felt something placed in the palm. Then I withdrew it; the coolies took up the poles, and presently the equipage was moving down the street.

I turned and went back into the house to find Nikola pacing up and down the room where I had left him, his hands behind his back and his head bowed he looked up at me and, without referring to what had happened, said quickly—

“The ponies will be at the door in an hour's time. If you want rest you had better take it now.”

“What do you intend doing?” I asked.

“I am going to have an interview with the old man we saw to-night. I want to try and worm some more information for our guidance out of him. Don't leave this room until my return, and above all remember in your future dealings with me that I am a chief priest and as such am entitled to the deepest reverence. Always bear in mind the fact that one little mistake may upset all our plans and may land both our heads on the top of the nearest city gate.”

“I will remember,” I said. And he thereupon left the room.

When he had gone I put my hand into my pocket and drew out the little keepsake Miss Medwin had given me. It proved to be a small but curiously chased locket, and to my sorrow contained no photograph. She had evidently worn it round her neck for a small piece of faded ribbon was still attached to it. I looked at it for a moment and then slipped the ribbon round my own neck, for so only could I hope to prevent its being stolen from me. Then I laid myself down upon a mat in a corner and in less time than it takes to tell fell fast asleep. It must have been nearly an hour later when I woke to find Nikola shaking me by the shoulder.

“Time's up,” he said. “The ponies are at the door, and we must embark on the next stage of our adventure.”

I had hardly collected my faculties and scrambled to my feet before the old man whom I had seen on the previous evening entered the room, bringing with him a meal which consisted principally of rice and small coarse cakes made of maize. We fell to work upon them and soon had them finished, washing them down with repeated cups of excellent tea.

When our meal was ended Nikola led the old man aside and said something to him in an undertone, emphasising his remarks with solemn gestures. Then with the whole retinue of the house at our heels to do us honour, we proceeded into the courtyard to find Laohwan in waiting with five ponies. Two were laden with baggage, upon one of the others Nikola seated himself, I appropriated the second, Laohwan contenting himself with the third. Then amid the respectful greeting of the household the gates were opened and we rode into the street. As Nikola said, we had embarked upon another stage of our adventures.