Page:Mr. Wu (IA mrwumilnlouisejo00milniala).pdf/217

 *cumstances no mere European nerve could outfight, he had borne his opponent to the knees; slowly, deftly had worn him out. His method and his touch had been—almost consistently—velvet, but through the velvet of the fur that hid them, relentless claws had found and torn and jagged the English adversary.

Robert Gregory was down and out.

"Now," Wu said in a changed tone, speaking briskly and quick, as the door closed on Murray, "I will open the matter to Mrs. Gregory—if you please."

"What's your object in wanting to humiliate me before my wife?" Gregory asked dearily.

Wu smiled. "Merely a 'Chinaman's' idea of—humor, let us say." He slid the Webley lazily into his sleeve.

Florence Gregory came in eagerly. Knowing less than her husband did of the mandarin's important place in international finance, yet she had a far clearer estimate of Wu Li Chang's personal potency than Gregory had. Ah Wong had coached her—if only with a hint or two—and she had her own woman's instinct, fine and alert.

Wu had risen instantly, and taken a courteous step towards her. He paused as she did. For a moment she stood looking from one man to the other questioningly, and then she fixed her anxious eyes on Wu, and they stood measuring each other quietly.

For once the English eyes were the quicker. Perhaps sex and motherhood combined outweighed any and every superiority of race. Perhaps he gave her a much more careless gaze than she gave him. Perhaps her exquisite anxiety gave her sharper sight. At all events, as they looked, she almost recognized him, but he had no such experience concerning her. For a puzzled instant her mind trembled towards "When? Where?" and in a