Part 38 (2/2)
The consul rose, with a bland smile, and extended his hand.
”It has been gratifying to know one who has become such a singular, and, permit me to add, such a trying figure, in diplomatic circles, during the past week. Good-day, sir!”
Peter walked down Desvoeux road in a state of mental detachment. A week! Only a week had pa.s.sed since he had sailed from Batavia, a week since he had thrown overboard the emissary of the Gray Dragon. He concluded that in more than one way could his presence be dismissed from the land of darkness and distrust.
How had the Gray Dragon brought pressure upon the American amba.s.sador, a man of the highest repute, of sterling and patriotic qualities? The answer seemed to be, that the coils of the Gray Dragon extended everywhere, like an inky fluid which had leaked into every crevice and crack of all Asia.
He was still under orders to pay a visit to J. B. Whalen, the Marconi supervisor. That cross-examination he was glad to postpone.
He called at the office of the Pacific Mail, and found that the _King of Asia_ was due to leave for the United States the following morning at dawn. He made a deposit on a reservation.
CHAPTER XIII
The hour lacked a few minutes of seven when Peter ascended in the lift to the second floor of the Hong-Kong Hotel and made his way between the closely packed tables to the Desvoeux Road balcony.
Romola Borria was not yet in evidence.
He selected a table which commanded a view of the entrance, toyed with the menu card, absent-mindedly ordered a Scotch highball, and slowly scrutinized the occupants of the tables in his neighborhood. He felt vaguely annoyed, slightly uneasy, without being able to sift out the cause.
For a moment he regretted his audacity in encountering the curious eyes of Hong Kong society, a society in which there would inevitably be present a number of his enemies. It cannot be denied that a number of eyes studied him leisurely and at some pains, over teacups, wine-gla.s.ses, and fans.
But these were for the larger part women, and Peter was more or less immune to the curious, bright-eyed glances of this s.e.x.
His attire was somewhat rakish for the occasion; and it appeared that sarongs were not being sported by the more refined cla.s.s of male diners, who affected as a ma.s.s the sombre black of dinner jackets. At all Hong Kong hotels the custom is evening dress for dinner, and Peter felt shabby and shoddy in his silk suit, his low shoes, his soft collar.
An orchestra of n.o.ble proportions struggled effectively in the moist, warm atmosphere somewhere in its concealment behind a distant palm arbor with ”Un Peu d'Amour,” and also out of Peter's sight, an impa.s.sioned and metallic tenor was sobbing:
”Jaw-s-s-st a lee-e-e-edle lof-f-ff-- A le-e-e-edle ke-e-e-e-e-e-s--”
And Peter in his perturbation wished that both blatant orchestra and impa.s.sioned tenor were concealed behind a sound-proof stone wall.
He was tossing off the dregs of the highball when there occurred a low-voiced murmur at his side, and he arose to confront the pale, worn face of Romola. She gave him her hand limply, and settled down across from him, her eyes darting from table to table, and occasionally nodding rather stiffly and impersonally as she recognized some one.
”You see”--he smiled at her, as she settled back and fostered upon him a look of brooding tenderness--”you see, my dear, I am here, untagged.
Nearly twelve hours have pa.s.sed since you sounded that note of ominous warning. I have yet to feel the thrill, just before I die, of that dagger sliding between my ribs.”
She accepted this with a nod almost indifferent.
”Simply because I have persuaded them to extend your parole to one o'clock. If you linger in China, you have--and need I say that the same applies to me--six more hours in which to jest, to laugh, to love--to live!”
”For which I am, as always in the face of favors, duly grateful,” said Peter in high humor. ”None the less I have this day, since we parted this morning, indulged in one pistol duel between sampans, with one of your admirable confreres----”
”Yes, I heard of that. But it stopped there. You winged his sampan coolie.”
”And at the Canton station, if I may be pardoned for contradicting, I encountered the red-faced one. To tell you what you may already know, I punched him in the jaw, dog-gone him!”
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