CHAPTER IIIDeportedMesalliance—An Outing—Bonbons—"Mr. Blown"—A Northern Frontier—Bandit and Patriot—Hi Lo—Arrested—Monsieur Brin offers Condolences—Old Scores—General Bekovitch—Short Notice—The General loses Patience"Ah! I disturb you, Mr. Brown. I always disturb somebody. I disturb myself! Therefore I go; another time, another time.""Not a bit of it, Monsieur. Sit down; I shall be through with these papers in five minutes. What will you drink? We have a fair selection.""Lemonade, my dear Mr. Brown, nothing but lemonade. It is the cool drink.""Hi Lo, wailo fetchee lemonade for Monsieur.""Allo lightee, sah," said a little fellow of some thirteen years, bright-eyed, rosy-cheeked, a smiling Chinese boy.Monsieur Anatole Brin, correspondent of theSoleil, sat down in a cane chair and wiped his perspiring bald pate with a yellow silk handkerchief. Mr. Brown continued to sort his papers. It was not possible for Monsieur Brin to sit speechless."Ah! Mr. Brown, you have things to do. You do not suffer, as we others, from nostalgia—the home-sickness, you understand? I sigh for Paris, for the boulevards, the cafés, the Opera, for anything, anything, but this Moukden. It is five weeks that I am here; I have my paper, my pencils, my authorization; I have presented to the Viceroy my letter of credit, my photograph, as it is ordained. I have the red band on my arm; you see it: the letters B.K., correspondent of war; also Chinese arabesques, one says they mean 'Him who spies out the military things!' and here I am still in Moukden. I spy out no military things; I broil myself with sun, choke myself with dust; it is not possible to go to the south, where the war is made; no, it is permitted to do anything but what I am sent for; I become meagre with disappointment.""Cheer up! Yours is a hard lot, no doubt. The modern general has no liking for you correspondents. But you will get your chance, no doubt, in time. The Japanese are coming north. There has been a fight at Wa-fang-ho, I hear.""What!" cried the Frenchman, starting up. "A battle and I not there! I hear of no battle. Colonel Pestitch hear of none. I ask him just now. Does he tell me lie—prevaricate?""He probably knows nothing about it. I knew it through a Chinaman yesterday. The natives outdo the telegraph, Monsieur, especially the telegraph with a censor at one end. But, in fact, I have more than once heard the result of an engagement before even the military authorities."Monsieur Brin walked up and down the little office impatiently twisting his moustache."Ah! It is abominable—but yes, abominable. Of what good that France is the ally of Russia? I might be Japanese, or Englishman, with no alliance at all. Why did I quit Paris? To put on this odious red badge, like a convict. For what? To promenade myself about Moukden, from day to day, from week to week, in prey to hundred Chinese diseases, subject to thousand Chinese odours! Ah, quelle malaise, quel désappointement, quel spleen!""You're in low spirits to-day, Monsieur. Why don't you go about the country and see the sights?""The sights! I have seen them. I have seen the tombs. They do not equal the Louvre, the Arc de Triomphe, Notre Dame. Pouah! My throat fills itself with dust, or my feet stick fast in the mud. For the rest, if I go farther I fall into the hands of the Koungouzes, the brigands; they have asperity; I have respect for my skin.""Look here, Monsieur, this won't do. You'll make yourself ill if you take things so hardly. What do you say to this, now? My boy is going some fifteen miles out to a farm, to see some friends of ours—Chinese, you understand. Why not go with him and see something of the Chinese at home? Our friend Mr. Wang has an interesting family; you'll enjoy it, and get material for one article at least for theSoleil.""Ah! it is an idea. We go—how?""On ponies. They will put you up for the night. You can return in the cool to-morrow morning.""It is an idea. It please me. There is no risk?""None, I should think. You can take a revolver, but Jack is pretty well known. Hi Lo, tell Mr. Jack I want him."In a few seconds Jack entered. He shook hands cordially with Monsieur Brin, whom he had seen once or twice since his arrival with a letter of introduction to Mr. Brown."Jack, Monsieur Brin is making himself ill for want of something to do. Take him with you and introduce him to Wang Shih's people. I think he'll like them.""I'll be glad, I'm sure. Will you come, Monsieur?""With pleasure, to pass the time.""I am starting immediately. Hi Lo, saddle a pony for Monsieur, quick."The little fellow, son of Mr. Brown's compradore, ran off, and returned in five minutes."Pony allo lightee, sah.""Good boy! Now, Monsieur, shall we start?""Hope you'll have a pleasant day, Monsieur," said Mr. Brown. "Look me up in the morning, and tell me how you got on.""Good-bye! Thanks! I have not disturb you—busy man like you?""Not a bit. Good-bye!"Mounted on neat little ponies, Monsieur Brin and Jack set off through the city. To the Frenchman's surprise, Jack did not choose the main thoroughfare direct to one of the eastern gates, but turned first into one side street, then into another. They were dusty, dirty, crowded with people, pigs, and poultry, and Monsieur Brin held his nose and began to expostulate."Wait a little, Monsieur," said Jack. "We are coming to my street. I never miss it when I come in this direction."They came by and by to a street differing in no wise from the rest, except that in one of the paper-windowed houses a school was held. No sooner had Jack appeared at the end of the street than the sing-song of children at lessons ceased as by magic, and out of the school flocked a score of little ones, who rushed towards him with loud and happy cries of greeting, scattering the fowls and pigs and kicking up clouds of dust as they ran."Mon Dieu!" exclaimed Monsieur Brin, reining up his pony to avoid trampling them."Don't be alarmed," said Jack, laughing. "They are my little pensioners."The biggest of the children were already swarming round the pony. Jack put his hand into his pocket. Instantly there was a yell of delight. Then suddenly a shower of sweetmeats fell on the outskirts of the crowd, among the smallest of the children. There was a merry scramble; before the first handful was picked up a second was scattered in the opposite direction, and soon every child was on all-fours, hunting for treasure in the thick brown dust. Meanwhile every door in the street had become blocked with smiling elders,—toothless old grandames, brawny workmen, women, girls, all enjoying the scene, chattering among themselves, some of them giving pleasant salutation to Jack. His pockets at last were empty; his pony was becoming impatient; and, laughingly threatening to run the youngsters down, he moved on amid high-pitched cries of "Come again soon, Mr. Blown!"Monsieur Brin was vastly entertained. The children's antics were very droll, and Monsieur was a man of sentiment."My word!" he said. "Here is something at last for the readers of theSoleil. I have no victories of war to write; I write of a victory of peace; how a young Englishman has won the hearts of all a street of Chinese; how to them he is no longer foreign devil but sweet-stuff saint. Eh? How became you so great a friend?""Oh, it is very simple. I took a fancy one day to a little toddler; picked him up out of the way of a boisterous pig, and gave him a sweet to comfort him. Other children were looking on; next time I came this way a group of them stood with their fingers in their mouths and their eyes on my pockets. I flung them a sweet or two; they picked them up and scampered away as though half-scared; but they were on the watch for me after that, and now, as you see, it has become an institution. They have very easy-going schoolmasters here; as soon as my nose is seen at the street end the word is given and out they troop, and the elders know the sounds and come to see the fun. They are all very good friends of mine."Leaving the narrow streets, they came at length to the outer gate, guarded jointly by several sleepy Chinese soldiers and a Russian sentry. Jack was well known, and the two riders passed through without difficulty.Having a little business to settle with Mr. Wang senior, Jack had offered, before Wang Shih left Mr. Brown's house in the small hours of that morning, to ride out and inform the family of his escape. A ride of some fifteen miles brought the two within sight of the farm. It was a brick building of one story, like all Manchurian houses, with cow-byres, pig-sties, and poultry-houses clinging to the wall. The farmstead was surrounded by lofty wooden palings, and Monsieur Brin's attention was attracted by two fantastic warlike figures roughly daubed in red and green on either side of the great gate."Oh!" said Jack, in reply to his question, "they're supposed to scare away evil spirits.""Hé! Are not the dogs enough?"The appearance of the two strangers was hailed by a rush of dogs, large and small, yelping and barking fiercely, but without malice. The noise brought the inmates to the door: an old Chinaman and his wife, and two girls of eighteen or thereabouts, whose regular features, soft brown eyes, and delicately ruddy complexion made an instant impression upon the Frenchman. He doffed his hat with the most elegant and graceful ease, and was not disconcerted when this unaccustomed mode of salutation set the girls giggling. The mistress led the visitors into the best room, lofty, airy, clean, with paper windows; along one side a broad platform some thirty inches from the floor. This was the k'ang, a hollow structure containing a flue warmed by the smoke and hot air from the kitchen-fire; it served as a table by day and a bed by night. A little graven image occupied a tinselled niche; and, the kitchen-fire not being required in hot weather, a kettle stood on a small brazier, boiling water for the indispensable tea.The old people were greatly distressed at the disgrace that had befallen their only son; still more at his approaching fate, for to die without a male child to honour one's ashes is the worst of ills to a Chinaman. They were not aware of his escape; but when Jack told them that he was now at large, and had gone to join the great Chunchuse chief Ah Lum, they all, parents and girls, clapped their hands, feeling now secure against ill-treatment by the Chinese officials. The chief would send word from his head-quarters to his agent in Moukden that Wang Shih was under his protection, and the terror in which the brigand was held was so great that the farmer's family would remain unmolested.Jack asked where was the encampment of the Chunchuse band. It varied, said the old man. To avoid capture by the Russians, the chief frequently shifted his quarters. His band was constantly on the move between Kirin and the Shan-yan-alin mountains, going so swiftly and secretly that no one knew where it would turn up next. One day it would be on the Hun-ho; a detachment of Cossacks would be sent to cut it off, only to find that it had disappeared. Two or three days later it might be heard of several hundred li away, on the Sungari."Yes," said the old man. "Ah Lum is a great leader, and a great hater of the Russians; but he hates the Japanese nearly as much. He would drive all foreigners out of the country. I am glad my son is with him, though I fear he will not be able to return home until the war is over."Jack and Monsieur Brin spent some time in rambling about the farm, the latter smoking innumerable cigarettes, making copious notes, and every now and then breaking forth into enthusiastic praise of the eldest daughter, who he declared reminded him of his fiancée in the boulevard Raspail. He watched with absorbed interest the Chinese way of making tea: the green leaves placed in a broad saucer and covered with boiling water; another saucer inverted over the first, and pushed back a little way after the tea had "drawn", the beverage being sipped through the interstice. The old farmer insisted on his guests going to see his coffin, a very handsome box thoughtfully provided by his son and kept in an outhouse, where Mr. Wang frequently spent an hour in meditation on mortality. Afterwards Brin was initiated into the complexities of fan-tan—a guessing game that was prolonged far into the night. They slept comfortably on the k'ang, and left about eight next morning very well pleased with their visit.The sun was already hot, and they rode at a walking pace, partly to avoid the clouds of choking dust which trotting would have raised. They were still several miles from the city when Jack saw a small Chinese boy hastening in their direction."That's young Hi Lo," he said, as the figure came more clearly into view. "I wonder what he is coming this way for! Surely Wang Shih has not been caught after all?"The boy had broken into a run, and when he met them Jack saw at once by his face that he bore grave news. But he was not prepared for what the little fellow told him in breathless gasps. Soon after daybreak a squad of Siberian infantry had appeared at Mr. Brown's house, put the merchant under arrest, ransacked his papers, and carried him off a prisoner. Hi Lo's father, the compradore, happened to be at a window of the front room as the soldiers came up; and suspecting, with Chinese shrewdness and dislike of the soldiers, that something was amiss, he had run to the inner sanctum and removed the most valuable papers from the safe before the Russians entered. But knowing that he was likely to be searched, he had handed the papers to Hi Lo, hoping that the boy would escape the visitors' attentions. Mr. Brown made a vigorous protest against the Russians' action, and demanded by what authority they arrested him and the crime with which he was charged; but the officer in command refused to give him any information. Before he was marched off, he was allowed a few words with his compradore, a servant of many years' standing. Learning that the papers were for the present secure, he had managed, without making his meaning clear to the Russian officer, to direct that they should be handed to Jack. They were for the most part vouchers from the Russian authorities for goods supplied; if not concealed, they would certainly be seized, and Mr. Brown knew how impossible it was to make a Russian official disgorge plunder. The whole thing was probably a mistake, at the worst a plot which could no doubt be shown up. The first necessity was to put the securities out of harm's way; then Jack could take whatever steps might be called for to obtain his father's release, if he were still detained after he had met the charge against him.The boy told his story rapidly in pidgin English; not that Jack did not understand Chinese, but because, like all Chinese servants, Hi Lo made it a point of pride to use his master's language. Monsieur Brin could make nothing of the narrative."What is the matter with you, my friend?" he asked, seeing the look of concern on Jack's face."An annoying mistake, Monsieur. My father has been arrested by the Russians.""Oho! What has he been doing?""Nothing, of course. Some official has been too zealous, I suppose. I must ride on, Monsieur.""But may not you be arrested, too?""I don't think so. If they intended it, they would already have sent a detachment after me. You may be sure their spies know very well where I have been. No, I'm in no danger; but anyhow I must find out what it all means, so if you don't mind, Monsieur, we'll hurry on and chance the dust.""Certainly, my friend. My word! this is an unfortunate end to our pleasant little picnic.""You have the papers, Hi Lo?"The boy produced them from some pouch in his wadded cotton garments. Jack looked them over. They represented a considerable sum of money. He did not care to have them about him, in case he should be searched. What could he do with them? For a moment he thought of giving them into the care of Monsieur Brin, but on reflection he hesitated to involve the correspondent in his difficulties. Hi Lo was a clever little fellow, devoted to him; probably he would be the best custodian for the present. He gave the papers back to the boy."Keep them carefully, Hi Lo. Don't come near our house till I send for you."Then he put his pony to a canter, and with Brin by his side hastened on to the city. At the moment, as Jack knew, there were few Russian soldiers in Moukden. General Kuropatkin was at the front, somewhere south of Liao-yang; Admiral Alexeieff was at Harbin. The arrest must have been made in their absence, and probably unknown to them, by the local military authorities. But, knowing his father's innocence, Jack expected to find that he had already been released.On entering the city he said good-bye to Monsieur Brin, who was full of condolence."If I can do anything, tell me," he said. "Unhappily I cannot telegraph; the soldiers have monopoly of the wires; and, besides, there is the terrible censor. But if I can do anything——""Don't worry, Monsieur. It will be all right. My father is a British subject; and though the Russians don't love us just now, they won't do anything very dreadful, I imagine. Many thanks! I will let you know how things stand."He rode straight home, and, finding that the house was shut and locked, sought the compradore at his cottage at the rear of the compound behind. Learning from him further details of the arrest, he at once set off for the military head-quarters near the railway-station. He knew several of the Russian officers, but those to whom he spoke had heard nothing of the singular occurrence. One of them offered to make enquiries. He returned by and by with the information that the order for Mr. Brown's arrest had been given by General Bekovitch. This was not cheering, for General Bekovitch, as Jack knew, was an officer who under a surface polish and refinement was thoroughly unscrupulous, and one indeed whose enmity Mr. Brown had incurred by his uncompromising attitude towards the official methods of corruption. Some time before this, when Bekovitch was a colonel, he had transferred to the Pole, Sowinski, a contract which had been placed in Mr. Brown's hands. The latter protested, and Bekovitch's superior disallowed his action and gave him metaphorically a rap on the knuckles. The colonel was deeply chagrined, both at the reprimand and at the loss of the secret commission arranged with Sowinski. He was now promoted major-general; his superior was gone; and Jack could hardly doubt that he had seized the opportunity to pay off his grudge against the English merchant. Jack shrank somewhat from a meeting with the general, but his indignation outweighed every other feeling, and, plucking up his courage, he made his way to the luxurious railway-carriage which served Bekovitch for quarters.He had to wait some time before he gained admittance to the general's presence. When at last he was invited to enter, he found Bekovitch lolling on a divan smoking a cigarette, a champagne bottle at his elbow. He was a tall fair man, inclining to stoutness, with a long moustache and carefully-trimmed beard, and looked in his white uniform a very dignified representative of the military bureaucracy.Jack's residence as a boy in Vladivostok had given him a good colloquial knowledge of Russian, so that he had no difficulty in addressing the general in his own language."I have recently heard, sir, of my father's arrest," he said, "and I have come to ask if you will be good enough to tell me where he is and what he is charged with.""You are Mr. Brown's son? How do you do?" said the general suavely. "I am sorry for you. It is a bad business altogether. I should be quite justified in refusing to give you information, but I am, of course, willing to stretch a point in a case like this—father and son, you know. Well, I regret to say that I had to arrest your father for giving military information to the Japanese.""But, sir, that is ridiculous. My father never did such a thing. He has had no connection, not even a business one, with the Japanese; he doesn't like them. Besides, he would never think of doing anything underhand. No one who knows him could even imagine it."If Bekovitch felt the personal application, he did not show it."Very creditable, very creditable indeed. A loyal son; excellent. I should be the last to undeceive you; therefore we will say no more about it. Let me offer you a cigarette.""No, thank you, sir. Really the matter cannot end thus. What evidence have you against my father?"The general shrugged."Well, if you will—— We had our suspicions; your father is an Englishman, you know; we examined his papers and found proof of our suspicions—full, conclusive. There is no doubt at all about it.""But you will allow my father to clear himself. I am sure he can do so.""We have no time for long-winded processes," replied the general, throwing away the end of his cigarette and lighting another. "Moukden, as you must be aware, young man, is under martial law.""Then what has become of my father, sir? Where is he?""We might have shot him, you know." The general's manner was suaver than ever. "But we are a merciful people. Your father has merely been—deported."At this Jack felt that either there was a hole in the net woven around his father, or the Russians had feared to proceed to extremities owing to his British nationality."Well, sir," he said, "I shall, of course, appeal to our government.""Certainly, my young friend, certainly! But on what ground? See, I recognize your anxiety; it is perfectly natural; for that reason I am patient with you. But we must be the judges as to who shall stay in Manchuria, who shall leave. Your father is now on his way to—to the frontier. You will follow without loss of time. I give you twelve hours to quit the city. A pass shall be made out for you; you will go by to-night's train to Harbin."General Bekovitch's manner was as urbane and polite as ever, but there was in his tone a something that warned the boy that further protest would be useless. Still, he must make one more effort to discover his father's whereabouts."Has my father gone to Harbin?" he asked."I have told you, my young friend, he has been deported. I can tell you no more.""But why not tell me his route, General Bekovitch? He was in any case leaving for England in a few days. If I am to go to Harbin I should like to know whether there is any possibility of overtaking my father and proceeding to Europe with him."For answer the general summoned an attendant."Michel Sergeitch, show this young man out."Jack gave him one look, then turned in silence towards the door."One moment," called the general after him. "As I said, a pass shall be sent you. The train leaves at eight. If you are found here to-morrow, you will be arrested and escorted as a prisoner to the frontier. That, I may remark, is an unpleasant mode of travelling. Remember, eight o'clock."CHAPTER IVThe Great Siberian RailwayDuty and Inclination—A Domiciliary Visit—Monsieur Brin Protests—A Reminder—The Ombeloke—Quandary—Salvage—A Fortune in Soles—Fellow Passengers—From a Carriage Window—A Further Search—At the Sungari Bridge—Off the Line—The Compradore's Brother—Consultation—A Bargain—The Terms—The Last Load—In a Horse-boxJack had rage in his heart as he walked back to the city. He was angry and indignant, but even more alarmed. The general had told him little: was that little the truth? What did he mean by "deported"? If Mr. Brown had really been put across the frontier, why should the general have refused to say by what route he had travelled? Jack feared that there had been foul play, and his anxiety was none the less because he could not imagine what form the foul play had taken.His own position was awkward. He was homeless; in a few hours he was to be packed like a bundle of goods into a train and carried away against his will. His father might have preceded him to Europe; on the other hand, he might not. Was he to leave Moukden thus, in uncertainty as to his father's fate?Thus perplexed and troubled in mind, he walked back to his house. At the door he found Monsieur Brin in a state of desperation at his inability to make head or tail of the compradore's pidgin English."Ha, my friend!" he exclaimed, "I am glad to see you; I must know the worst; I come in haste, but the Chinese man speaks a language of monkeys; I understand it not. Tell me what is arrived.""I have seen General Bekovitch," replied Jack. "He told me almost nothing. My father has been deported—for betraying secrets to the Japanese, if you please! Did you ever hear of anything so ridiculous, so preposterous!""But that is all right. O.K. Deported! Mr. Brown is the happy man. It would please me to be deported also. He goes back to Europe: that I could accompany him!""But that is the point. Has he gone back to Europe? The general would not tell me. And he is packing me off too! I have to leave by to-night's train for Harbin, or he will put me under arrest.""Hé! That is a scandal. I will expose it. I will write it all to my redacteur. Ah! But I ask myself, will the redacteur publish my letter? France is allied to Russia. A French publicist has to consider not solely his own persuasions, but his duty to his country. I reflect: it will be best actually to write nothing. But if, my friend, there needs money, demand me; I can furnish hundred, hundred and fifty roubles: it will be to me a pleasure.""Many thanks, Monsieur! I do not think I shall need your assistance. I told the general I shall appeal to our government. Unluckily we have no consul here; the nearest, I suppose, is at Shanghai; and being sent off to Harbin, I don't know when I shall have an opportunity of communicating with our authorities.""Truly, it is a difficult situation. And your goods here: what will they become?""They'll be confiscated, I suppose. As you see, I am locked out. Luckily we have nothing of any great value. My father sent off in advance all that he wished to keep, and they can't touch his account at the Hong-Kong and Shanghai bank."He said nothing about the securities in Hi Lo's possession, not from any want of faith in the Frenchman's good-will, but not entirely trusting his discretion."They have no right to lock me out," continued Jack. "And as General Bekovitch said he'd send me a pass for the train, he must suppose he'll find me here. So if Mr. Hi will put his shoulder to the door, I think we'll force the lock and see what they have been doing."The stalwart compradore made short work of the fastenings. Accompanied by Monsieur Brin and the Chinaman, Jack entered his father's house. There were manifest signs of ransacking. The floor of the office was strewn with papers; in the dining-room the drawers had been emptied; and a large oaken press, a fine specimen of Chinese cabinet-making on which Mr. Brown set much store, had been forced open. They were contemplating the dismal scene when Hi Lo came running in."Masta," he said hurriedly, "thlee fo' piecee Lusski walkee chop-chop this-side."[image]A Search PartyA few moments later the house was entered by four Siberian infantrymen, headed by a lieutenant and accompanied by a tall, fair, hook-nosed man, at the sight of whom Jack started. A light flashed upon him. Anton Sowinski was the Russian Pole who had been doing his best to ruin Mr. Brown's business, and had so bitterly resented Mr. Brown's successes. It was he, too, who had instigated the charge trumped up against Wang Shih in revenge for a business defeat. Was it unlikely that Sowinski had been the agent in this other trumped-up charge of espionage? If not, what was his business now?"I have come," said the lieutenant, "to bring you the pass promised by General Bekovitch. Here it is."He drew a large unsealed envelope from his pocket, and took from it a paper which he proceeded to read. It stipulated that Mr. John Brown, junior, was to leave Moukden by the train for Harbin at 8 p.m., en route for Europe. Replacing it in the envelope, the officer laid this upon the table and said:"I regret, Monsieur, that I have a disagreeable duty to perform. I am ordered to search the house and everybody in it. Mr. Brown is known to have been in possession of certain vouchers which are now forfeit to my government. They could not be found when he was arrested; the conclusion is that they are in your possession. I must ask you to turn out your pockets.""I have no papers," said Jack, "and I protest.""I am sorry. I have my orders to carry out. Resistance is useless.""Oh! I shall not resist. Search away."The lieutenant had already posted a soldier at the back entrance, and had sent another man to bring into the room anyone whom he might find on the premises. As Jack was being searched, Hi Lo was brought in; he had slipped away when the Russians entered. Jack hoped that the boy had had time to hide the papers, for though the amount they represented was small in comparison with his father's total fortune, it was yet considerable in itself, and he was anxious to save it, not merely for its own sake, but because without it he would have no means of carrying through a plan he had already dimly determined on. Hi Lo's face was void of all expression. There were now in the room, besides the Russians, Jack himself, Monsieur Brin, the compradore, and his son. The door was locked.Jack was searched from top to toe. Nothing was found on him save letters of no importance. The compradore and Hi Lo were examined in turn; they submitted meekly, and Jack almost betrayed his relief when he saw that the papers had not been discovered on the boy. Then the officer turned to Monsieur Brin, glancing at the red band on his arm."But I am a Frenchman," exclaimed the angry correspondent. "Why do you search me? I have nothing. I know nothing.""I find you in Mr. Brown's house. I have orders to search everybody. I hope you will make no difficulty, Monsieur.""Difficulty! It is you that make difficulty. It is an insult, an indignity. I am an ally; peste! for what good to be an ally if I am thus treated as an enemy! But I do not resist; no, I resign myself. From no one but an ally would I endure such an indignity.""I am exceedingly sorry, Monsieur. General Bekovitch, in giving orders, of course did not contemplate for a moment the case of a French correspondent being present; but my instructions are positive. I have no choice but to carry them out.""Well, I protest still once more. I will make the French nation know the price they pay for this so agreeable alliance."Monsieur Brin was searched. No papers were found on him except his pocket-book, a lady's photograph, and several letters, which the officer glanced through, the Frenchman fuming with impatience and indignation. At the conclusion of the search the lieutenant threw a meaning glance at Sowinski, whose attitude throughout had convinced Jack of the correctness of his surmise. The Pole's presence was in itself a sufficient proof of his personal interest in Mr. Brown's fate. An hour was spent in making a further examination of the scattered papers; nothing incriminating being found, the lieutenant gave his men the order to march. At the last moment he glanced at the envelope on the table."Take care of it, Monsieur," he said; "it would be awkward for you if it were lost."When the party had gone, Monsieur Brin fairly exploded with wrath. English was too slow for him; a rapid torrent of French came from his quivering lips. But Jack's attention was diverted from the Frenchman by the strange antics of Hi Lo, who was dancing round his father, his face beaming with delight."You hid the papers?" said Jack. "You are a good boy. Where are they?"The boy pointed to the envelope on the table."What do you mean?""Masta, look-see. Masta, look-see."Jack lifted the envelope. The boy's glee puzzled him. Opening it, he took out the Russian pass, and with it half a dozen thin slips of paper written upon in Russian and French. He could hardly believe his eyes. They were the very papers for which the officer had sought so diligently but in vain."How is this? What does it mean?" he said in blank amazement."Hai-yah! Velly bad Lusski man look-see Masta; allo piecee bad man look-see all-same; no can tinkee Hi Lo plenty smart inside. Hai-yah! Allo piecee Lusski man look-see that-side; my belongey this-side, makee no bobbely; cleep-cleep 'long-side table; my hab papers allo lightee: ch'hoy! he belong-ey chop-chop inside ombeloke; Lusski no savvy nuffin 'bout nuffin, galaw!"Jack burst into a roar of laughter, and translated the boy's pidgin to the bewildered Frenchman. While the Russians were intent on searching Jack, and their backs were towards Hi Lo, the boy, knowing that his turn must come, seized the opportunity to slip the precious papers into the unclosed envelope on the table. Monsieur Brin flung up his hands and began to pirouette, then stopped to laugh, and held his shaking sides."Hi! hi! admirable! Excellentissime! Bravo! bravo! Ma foi! Comme il est adroit! Comme il est spirituel! Ho! ho! Tiens! Le gars mérite une forte récompense. Voilà!"In his excess of enthusiasm he took a silver dollar from his pocket, spun it, and handed it to Hi Lo. The boy was sober in an instant. He gravely handed the coin back."No wantchee Fa-lan-sai man he dollar," he said.Brin looked to Jack for an explanation."He is much obliged, but would rather not. You made a little mistake, Monsieur. You can't offend a Chinaman of this sort more than by offering him money. He is, indeed, a clever little chap. I'll take care he doesn't go unrewarded.""Ha! That is another point for my chapter on the characteristics of the Chinese. But now, my friend, what will you do?""Really, Monsieur, I don't know. I must talk it over with the compradore.""Very well then, I leave you. I go to write notes of this most interesting episode. I begin to enjoy war correspondence. You go at eight? I will be at the station to say adieu."Jack spent more than an hour in serious consultation with Hi An, the compradore, a man of forty, who had served his father for nearly twenty years, and was heart and soul devoted to his interests. There was no question but that Jack must leave Moukden that night, and Hi An advised him to go straight to Moscow and take the first opportunity of communicating with the British Foreign Office. Meanwhile the compradore himself would do what he could to trace the whereabouts of his master. But this course Jack was very unwilling to adopt. In the first place, he had his father's instructions to realize the securities, so cleverly saved by Hi Lo. Then there was the consignment of flour which he hoped might run the Japanese blockade and come safe to harbour at Vladivostok. If it should arrive it would be worth a large sum of money, and Jack was not disposed to yield that a spoil to the Russians. Last and most important consideration, he was oppressed by the mystery of his father's fate. With the likelihood of innumerable delays on the congested railway, he might be three weeks or a month reaching Moscow; he foresaw difficulties in inducing the Foreign Office to move in a case where there was so little to go upon; and, above all, it was unendurable to think that his father might, for all he knew, be still near at hand, in danger and distress.He was already determined, then, that, leave Moukden if he must, he would not leave Manchuria. But what could he do to secure his objects and his own safety? He wondered whether the news of his father's arrest had been telegraphed to Harbin and Vladivostok. That was unlikely, he thought, for two reasons. It was well known that Mr. Brown had been winding up his business; the Russian authorities, unless specially informed, would not suppose that there was any plunder to be got apart from what was found at Moukden. And the telegraph had been for months past very much overworked, what with the heavy railway traffic and the constant messages flashing to and fro between the principal depots in Manchuria and between Manchuria and St. Petersburg. It was therefore unlikely that the enforced departure of a Moukden merchant would be considered of sufficient importance to communicate. If this reasoning was correct, and Jack could contrive to reach Vladivostok before the news filtered through, he might save the remnants of his father's property, and turn the vouchers into negotiable securities. He would then find himself in possession of considerable funds, which he might use if necessary in tracking his father.The first thing was to get to Vladivostok. The pass stipulated that he should go through Harbin over the Siberian railway to Moscow. To reach Vladivostok he must change trains at Harbin, and by that very fact become a fugitive and an outlaw. Apparently General Bekovitch did not intend to send him north under an escort; it probably never occurred to him that with his father deported, his home broken up, Jack would make an effort, in face of the definite order to quit the country, to remain. But though no escort was provided, he would undoubtedly be watched; and to slip away at Harbin in a direction the opposite of that intended promised to be a matter of considerable difficulty and danger.The compradore shook his head when Jack explained what he had in his mind. Then, finding that his young master was determined, he did not attempt to dissuade him, but set himself in earnest to talk over ways and means. He had a brother in Harbin, a grain merchant, who had dealings with the Russians. This man might be able to give Jack information and assistance, and to him the compradore wrote a short note of introduction. The next thing was to provide for the safety of the Russian vouchers. Jack might be searched againen route, and it was therefore inadvisable to carry them in his pocket. He pondered for a time without finding any solution of the difficulty. He was sitting with crossed legs, his hands clasping his knee, his eyes cast down. Studying the heavy thick-soled boot he wore in summer, under stress of Manchurian mud, he suddenly bethought himself."You can turn your hand to most things, Mr. Hi; do you think you could split the sole of one of my boots and put it together again?""Of course, sir.""That's the very thing, then. No one would ever think of taking my boot to pieces."Hi An very quickly and deftly performed the necessary operation. Between the two parts of the split sole Jack placed the vouchers and letter of introduction; then the compradore neatly stuck them together again. He produced a roll of rouble notes, enough to pay preliminary expenses and leave a margin for emergencies."There, Master," he said. "I have done all I can.""You're a good fellow. I must trust to the chapter of accidents for the rest. I may never see you again, Mr. Hi. If I come to grief, you will do what you can to find my father?""I will, Master, if I have to trudge on foot all the way to Pekin to ask help of the Son of Heaven himself."Some minutes before eight o'clock Jack, by virtue of his pass, was admitted without a ticket to the platform at which the train for Harbin was drawn up. He had been compelled to take his farewell of Monsieur Brin, the compradore, and Hi Lo outside, much to the Frenchman's indignation. The line was very badly managed; the officials were soldiers, with no technical acquaintance with railway management. Trains were despatched from Moukden to Harbin, and from Harbin to Moukden, at any time that suited the officials at either end, without prearrangement, sometimes even without communication between the stations. On this particular train there was no distinction of classes, and Jack found himself one of some forty passengers packed into a carriage built for thirty. The company was exceedingly mixed. Russian officers were cheek by jowl with Chinese merchants; a huge long-bearded Russian pope was wedged between a German commercial traveller and a Sister with the red cross on her arm; at one end was a group of chattering Greek camp-followers, who brought out a filthy pack of cards long before the train started, and began a game of makao, which continued, with intervals for squabbling and refreshment, all the way to Harbin. Jack made himself as comfortable as he could in a corner, and prepared to sleep if the close proximity of his fellow-passengers and the stuffiness of the air allowed.It was past nine o'clock before the train steamed out. Punctuality is a virtue non-existent on the Siberian railway. The journey taxed Jack's patience to the utmost. The line is single, doubled at intervals of five versts to allow of the passage of trains in opposite directions. The train was constantly being shunted into sidings, remaining sometimes for hours, no one could tell why; and one of the most annoying features of the constant stoppages was that the train, after running through a station where the passengers would have been glad to obtain refreshments, would come to a stand several versts beyond, where they had nothing to do but kick their heels and look disconsolately out on the country. On one of the sidings stood a goods train, two trucks of which were loaded with a large gun; it had no doubt been injured by a Japanese shell, and was being returned to arsenal for repair. In another train Jack noticed a truck crowded with poor wretches who appeared to be chained together—misdemeanants from the army, he surmised, on their way to one of the penal settlements in Siberia. At short intervals appeared the little brick huts of the soldiers guarding the line, and occasionally a group of three or four of those green-coated guards might be seen riding along at the foot of the embankment on their stout Mongol ponies.Jack had travelled many times along the line, but not recently, and he was greatly interested in the amazing developments which it had undergone. New buildings of brick seemed to have sprung up like mushrooms along its course. Where formerly had been spacious fields of kowliang—the long-stalked millet of the country—with Chinese fangtzes few and far between, there were now wide bare stretches upon which Russian industry was erecting storehouses, engine-sheds, tile-covered residences for the officials. Some thirty-five miles from Moukden is Tieling, which, when Jack's train passed through at three o'clock in the morning—having taken just six hours to run that distance—seemed to be nothing but a collection of scaffolding, with Chinese bricklayers already at work, trowel in hand. Between Tieling and Harbin stretches an immense plain, fertile for the most part, and hitherto left almost unspoiled. Nowhere does the line pass through a Chinese village; these were purposely avoided by the Russian engineers from motives of policy, and in deference to native susceptibilities. They are for the most part out of sight from the railway. All that can be seen is, on the right, the broad rutty mandarin highway; on the left, a narrower road edging interminable fields of kowliang. There are few stations between Moukden and Harbin: at two, Tieling and Kai-chuang, the Russians had established their base hospitals.Hour after hour passed. Jack whiled away a good part of the time by whittling sticks with his penknife, somewhat to the amusement of the Russian army doctor who sat next to him, and who did not appear to notice that the sticks were shaped to a definite size, and that, after several had been thrown away, two or three were placed in Jack's pocket. Many times the train was halted at a doubling to allow a troop train to pass, filled with Russian soldiers on the way to the front, shouting, singing, in the highest spirits. At one point an empty Red Cross train stood on a siding, having emptied its freight of wounded men at one of the hospitals.During one of the stoppages the belaced official who acted as guard politely requested Jack to step into the station-master's office, where he was searched by one of the soldiers. He was thus left in no doubt that he was under surveillance, and when he got back to his carriage he found that his bag had been opened. He congratulated himself on his forethought in concealing his papers so effectually in his boot.At the moment of saying good-bye the compradore had given him a piece of news that made him anxious to complete his journey. A Chinese employed at the station had told him that Anton Sowinski had booked a seat by the next day's train. It was by no means impossible that this train, if it happened to carry any important passengers, would overtake and pass the first somewhere on the line. The Pole was likely to spread the news of Mr. Brown's arrest, and if he should succeed in getting to Vladivostok before Jack the game would certainly be up.At length, about forty-five hours after leaving Moukden, someone said that Harbin was in sight, and there was instantly a movement and bustle among the passengers."Keep your seat," said the doctor to Jack with a smile."Thanks! I know," said Jack with an answering smile.The train slowed down, then stopped at the southern end of the bridge over the Sungari river. It was as though the engine were parleying with the sentry. On the right rose the barracks of the frontier guards, surrounded by a loopholed wall. At the bridge end were two guns framed in sand-bags, and watched by two sentinels. Across the river, above and below the bridge, an immense boom prevented traffic either up or down. While the train halted, an official came along the carriages, fastened all the windows, locked all the doors; to open them before the bridge was crossed entailed a heavy penalty. When all the passengers were thus secured, and there was no chance of any Japanese spy throwing a bomb on to the bridge, the train moved slowly on, passed more guns at the farther end, and came to rest at the spacious station in the Russian quarter of the town.
CHAPTER III
Deported
Mesalliance—An Outing—Bonbons—"Mr. Blown"—A Northern Frontier—Bandit and Patriot—Hi Lo—Arrested—Monsieur Brin offers Condolences—Old Scores—General Bekovitch—Short Notice—The General loses Patience
"Ah! I disturb you, Mr. Brown. I always disturb somebody. I disturb myself! Therefore I go; another time, another time."
"Not a bit of it, Monsieur. Sit down; I shall be through with these papers in five minutes. What will you drink? We have a fair selection."
"Lemonade, my dear Mr. Brown, nothing but lemonade. It is the cool drink."
"Hi Lo, wailo fetchee lemonade for Monsieur."
"Allo lightee, sah," said a little fellow of some thirteen years, bright-eyed, rosy-cheeked, a smiling Chinese boy.
Monsieur Anatole Brin, correspondent of theSoleil, sat down in a cane chair and wiped his perspiring bald pate with a yellow silk handkerchief. Mr. Brown continued to sort his papers. It was not possible for Monsieur Brin to sit speechless.
"Ah! Mr. Brown, you have things to do. You do not suffer, as we others, from nostalgia—the home-sickness, you understand? I sigh for Paris, for the boulevards, the cafés, the Opera, for anything, anything, but this Moukden. It is five weeks that I am here; I have my paper, my pencils, my authorization; I have presented to the Viceroy my letter of credit, my photograph, as it is ordained. I have the red band on my arm; you see it: the letters B.K., correspondent of war; also Chinese arabesques, one says they mean 'Him who spies out the military things!' and here I am still in Moukden. I spy out no military things; I broil myself with sun, choke myself with dust; it is not possible to go to the south, where the war is made; no, it is permitted to do anything but what I am sent for; I become meagre with disappointment."
"Cheer up! Yours is a hard lot, no doubt. The modern general has no liking for you correspondents. But you will get your chance, no doubt, in time. The Japanese are coming north. There has been a fight at Wa-fang-ho, I hear."
"What!" cried the Frenchman, starting up. "A battle and I not there! I hear of no battle. Colonel Pestitch hear of none. I ask him just now. Does he tell me lie—prevaricate?"
"He probably knows nothing about it. I knew it through a Chinaman yesterday. The natives outdo the telegraph, Monsieur, especially the telegraph with a censor at one end. But, in fact, I have more than once heard the result of an engagement before even the military authorities."
Monsieur Brin walked up and down the little office impatiently twisting his moustache.
"Ah! It is abominable—but yes, abominable. Of what good that France is the ally of Russia? I might be Japanese, or Englishman, with no alliance at all. Why did I quit Paris? To put on this odious red badge, like a convict. For what? To promenade myself about Moukden, from day to day, from week to week, in prey to hundred Chinese diseases, subject to thousand Chinese odours! Ah, quelle malaise, quel désappointement, quel spleen!"
"You're in low spirits to-day, Monsieur. Why don't you go about the country and see the sights?"
"The sights! I have seen them. I have seen the tombs. They do not equal the Louvre, the Arc de Triomphe, Notre Dame. Pouah! My throat fills itself with dust, or my feet stick fast in the mud. For the rest, if I go farther I fall into the hands of the Koungouzes, the brigands; they have asperity; I have respect for my skin."
"Look here, Monsieur, this won't do. You'll make yourself ill if you take things so hardly. What do you say to this, now? My boy is going some fifteen miles out to a farm, to see some friends of ours—Chinese, you understand. Why not go with him and see something of the Chinese at home? Our friend Mr. Wang has an interesting family; you'll enjoy it, and get material for one article at least for theSoleil."
"Ah! it is an idea. We go—how?"
"On ponies. They will put you up for the night. You can return in the cool to-morrow morning."
"It is an idea. It please me. There is no risk?"
"None, I should think. You can take a revolver, but Jack is pretty well known. Hi Lo, tell Mr. Jack I want him."
In a few seconds Jack entered. He shook hands cordially with Monsieur Brin, whom he had seen once or twice since his arrival with a letter of introduction to Mr. Brown.
"Jack, Monsieur Brin is making himself ill for want of something to do. Take him with you and introduce him to Wang Shih's people. I think he'll like them."
"I'll be glad, I'm sure. Will you come, Monsieur?"
"With pleasure, to pass the time."
"I am starting immediately. Hi Lo, saddle a pony for Monsieur, quick."
The little fellow, son of Mr. Brown's compradore, ran off, and returned in five minutes.
"Pony allo lightee, sah."
"Good boy! Now, Monsieur, shall we start?"
"Hope you'll have a pleasant day, Monsieur," said Mr. Brown. "Look me up in the morning, and tell me how you got on."
"Good-bye! Thanks! I have not disturb you—busy man like you?"
"Not a bit. Good-bye!"
Mounted on neat little ponies, Monsieur Brin and Jack set off through the city. To the Frenchman's surprise, Jack did not choose the main thoroughfare direct to one of the eastern gates, but turned first into one side street, then into another. They were dusty, dirty, crowded with people, pigs, and poultry, and Monsieur Brin held his nose and began to expostulate.
"Wait a little, Monsieur," said Jack. "We are coming to my street. I never miss it when I come in this direction."
They came by and by to a street differing in no wise from the rest, except that in one of the paper-windowed houses a school was held. No sooner had Jack appeared at the end of the street than the sing-song of children at lessons ceased as by magic, and out of the school flocked a score of little ones, who rushed towards him with loud and happy cries of greeting, scattering the fowls and pigs and kicking up clouds of dust as they ran.
"Mon Dieu!" exclaimed Monsieur Brin, reining up his pony to avoid trampling them.
"Don't be alarmed," said Jack, laughing. "They are my little pensioners."
The biggest of the children were already swarming round the pony. Jack put his hand into his pocket. Instantly there was a yell of delight. Then suddenly a shower of sweetmeats fell on the outskirts of the crowd, among the smallest of the children. There was a merry scramble; before the first handful was picked up a second was scattered in the opposite direction, and soon every child was on all-fours, hunting for treasure in the thick brown dust. Meanwhile every door in the street had become blocked with smiling elders,—toothless old grandames, brawny workmen, women, girls, all enjoying the scene, chattering among themselves, some of them giving pleasant salutation to Jack. His pockets at last were empty; his pony was becoming impatient; and, laughingly threatening to run the youngsters down, he moved on amid high-pitched cries of "Come again soon, Mr. Blown!"
Monsieur Brin was vastly entertained. The children's antics were very droll, and Monsieur was a man of sentiment.
"My word!" he said. "Here is something at last for the readers of theSoleil. I have no victories of war to write; I write of a victory of peace; how a young Englishman has won the hearts of all a street of Chinese; how to them he is no longer foreign devil but sweet-stuff saint. Eh? How became you so great a friend?"
"Oh, it is very simple. I took a fancy one day to a little toddler; picked him up out of the way of a boisterous pig, and gave him a sweet to comfort him. Other children were looking on; next time I came this way a group of them stood with their fingers in their mouths and their eyes on my pockets. I flung them a sweet or two; they picked them up and scampered away as though half-scared; but they were on the watch for me after that, and now, as you see, it has become an institution. They have very easy-going schoolmasters here; as soon as my nose is seen at the street end the word is given and out they troop, and the elders know the sounds and come to see the fun. They are all very good friends of mine."
Leaving the narrow streets, they came at length to the outer gate, guarded jointly by several sleepy Chinese soldiers and a Russian sentry. Jack was well known, and the two riders passed through without difficulty.
Having a little business to settle with Mr. Wang senior, Jack had offered, before Wang Shih left Mr. Brown's house in the small hours of that morning, to ride out and inform the family of his escape. A ride of some fifteen miles brought the two within sight of the farm. It was a brick building of one story, like all Manchurian houses, with cow-byres, pig-sties, and poultry-houses clinging to the wall. The farmstead was surrounded by lofty wooden palings, and Monsieur Brin's attention was attracted by two fantastic warlike figures roughly daubed in red and green on either side of the great gate.
"Oh!" said Jack, in reply to his question, "they're supposed to scare away evil spirits."
"Hé! Are not the dogs enough?"
The appearance of the two strangers was hailed by a rush of dogs, large and small, yelping and barking fiercely, but without malice. The noise brought the inmates to the door: an old Chinaman and his wife, and two girls of eighteen or thereabouts, whose regular features, soft brown eyes, and delicately ruddy complexion made an instant impression upon the Frenchman. He doffed his hat with the most elegant and graceful ease, and was not disconcerted when this unaccustomed mode of salutation set the girls giggling. The mistress led the visitors into the best room, lofty, airy, clean, with paper windows; along one side a broad platform some thirty inches from the floor. This was the k'ang, a hollow structure containing a flue warmed by the smoke and hot air from the kitchen-fire; it served as a table by day and a bed by night. A little graven image occupied a tinselled niche; and, the kitchen-fire not being required in hot weather, a kettle stood on a small brazier, boiling water for the indispensable tea.
The old people were greatly distressed at the disgrace that had befallen their only son; still more at his approaching fate, for to die without a male child to honour one's ashes is the worst of ills to a Chinaman. They were not aware of his escape; but when Jack told them that he was now at large, and had gone to join the great Chunchuse chief Ah Lum, they all, parents and girls, clapped their hands, feeling now secure against ill-treatment by the Chinese officials. The chief would send word from his head-quarters to his agent in Moukden that Wang Shih was under his protection, and the terror in which the brigand was held was so great that the farmer's family would remain unmolested.
Jack asked where was the encampment of the Chunchuse band. It varied, said the old man. To avoid capture by the Russians, the chief frequently shifted his quarters. His band was constantly on the move between Kirin and the Shan-yan-alin mountains, going so swiftly and secretly that no one knew where it would turn up next. One day it would be on the Hun-ho; a detachment of Cossacks would be sent to cut it off, only to find that it had disappeared. Two or three days later it might be heard of several hundred li away, on the Sungari.
"Yes," said the old man. "Ah Lum is a great leader, and a great hater of the Russians; but he hates the Japanese nearly as much. He would drive all foreigners out of the country. I am glad my son is with him, though I fear he will not be able to return home until the war is over."
Jack and Monsieur Brin spent some time in rambling about the farm, the latter smoking innumerable cigarettes, making copious notes, and every now and then breaking forth into enthusiastic praise of the eldest daughter, who he declared reminded him of his fiancée in the boulevard Raspail. He watched with absorbed interest the Chinese way of making tea: the green leaves placed in a broad saucer and covered with boiling water; another saucer inverted over the first, and pushed back a little way after the tea had "drawn", the beverage being sipped through the interstice. The old farmer insisted on his guests going to see his coffin, a very handsome box thoughtfully provided by his son and kept in an outhouse, where Mr. Wang frequently spent an hour in meditation on mortality. Afterwards Brin was initiated into the complexities of fan-tan—a guessing game that was prolonged far into the night. They slept comfortably on the k'ang, and left about eight next morning very well pleased with their visit.
The sun was already hot, and they rode at a walking pace, partly to avoid the clouds of choking dust which trotting would have raised. They were still several miles from the city when Jack saw a small Chinese boy hastening in their direction.
"That's young Hi Lo," he said, as the figure came more clearly into view. "I wonder what he is coming this way for! Surely Wang Shih has not been caught after all?"
The boy had broken into a run, and when he met them Jack saw at once by his face that he bore grave news. But he was not prepared for what the little fellow told him in breathless gasps. Soon after daybreak a squad of Siberian infantry had appeared at Mr. Brown's house, put the merchant under arrest, ransacked his papers, and carried him off a prisoner. Hi Lo's father, the compradore, happened to be at a window of the front room as the soldiers came up; and suspecting, with Chinese shrewdness and dislike of the soldiers, that something was amiss, he had run to the inner sanctum and removed the most valuable papers from the safe before the Russians entered. But knowing that he was likely to be searched, he had handed the papers to Hi Lo, hoping that the boy would escape the visitors' attentions. Mr. Brown made a vigorous protest against the Russians' action, and demanded by what authority they arrested him and the crime with which he was charged; but the officer in command refused to give him any information. Before he was marched off, he was allowed a few words with his compradore, a servant of many years' standing. Learning that the papers were for the present secure, he had managed, without making his meaning clear to the Russian officer, to direct that they should be handed to Jack. They were for the most part vouchers from the Russian authorities for goods supplied; if not concealed, they would certainly be seized, and Mr. Brown knew how impossible it was to make a Russian official disgorge plunder. The whole thing was probably a mistake, at the worst a plot which could no doubt be shown up. The first necessity was to put the securities out of harm's way; then Jack could take whatever steps might be called for to obtain his father's release, if he were still detained after he had met the charge against him.
The boy told his story rapidly in pidgin English; not that Jack did not understand Chinese, but because, like all Chinese servants, Hi Lo made it a point of pride to use his master's language. Monsieur Brin could make nothing of the narrative.
"What is the matter with you, my friend?" he asked, seeing the look of concern on Jack's face.
"An annoying mistake, Monsieur. My father has been arrested by the Russians."
"Oho! What has he been doing?"
"Nothing, of course. Some official has been too zealous, I suppose. I must ride on, Monsieur."
"But may not you be arrested, too?"
"I don't think so. If they intended it, they would already have sent a detachment after me. You may be sure their spies know very well where I have been. No, I'm in no danger; but anyhow I must find out what it all means, so if you don't mind, Monsieur, we'll hurry on and chance the dust."
"Certainly, my friend. My word! this is an unfortunate end to our pleasant little picnic."
"You have the papers, Hi Lo?"
The boy produced them from some pouch in his wadded cotton garments. Jack looked them over. They represented a considerable sum of money. He did not care to have them about him, in case he should be searched. What could he do with them? For a moment he thought of giving them into the care of Monsieur Brin, but on reflection he hesitated to involve the correspondent in his difficulties. Hi Lo was a clever little fellow, devoted to him; probably he would be the best custodian for the present. He gave the papers back to the boy.
"Keep them carefully, Hi Lo. Don't come near our house till I send for you."
Then he put his pony to a canter, and with Brin by his side hastened on to the city. At the moment, as Jack knew, there were few Russian soldiers in Moukden. General Kuropatkin was at the front, somewhere south of Liao-yang; Admiral Alexeieff was at Harbin. The arrest must have been made in their absence, and probably unknown to them, by the local military authorities. But, knowing his father's innocence, Jack expected to find that he had already been released.
On entering the city he said good-bye to Monsieur Brin, who was full of condolence.
"If I can do anything, tell me," he said. "Unhappily I cannot telegraph; the soldiers have monopoly of the wires; and, besides, there is the terrible censor. But if I can do anything——"
"Don't worry, Monsieur. It will be all right. My father is a British subject; and though the Russians don't love us just now, they won't do anything very dreadful, I imagine. Many thanks! I will let you know how things stand."
He rode straight home, and, finding that the house was shut and locked, sought the compradore at his cottage at the rear of the compound behind. Learning from him further details of the arrest, he at once set off for the military head-quarters near the railway-station. He knew several of the Russian officers, but those to whom he spoke had heard nothing of the singular occurrence. One of them offered to make enquiries. He returned by and by with the information that the order for Mr. Brown's arrest had been given by General Bekovitch. This was not cheering, for General Bekovitch, as Jack knew, was an officer who under a surface polish and refinement was thoroughly unscrupulous, and one indeed whose enmity Mr. Brown had incurred by his uncompromising attitude towards the official methods of corruption. Some time before this, when Bekovitch was a colonel, he had transferred to the Pole, Sowinski, a contract which had been placed in Mr. Brown's hands. The latter protested, and Bekovitch's superior disallowed his action and gave him metaphorically a rap on the knuckles. The colonel was deeply chagrined, both at the reprimand and at the loss of the secret commission arranged with Sowinski. He was now promoted major-general; his superior was gone; and Jack could hardly doubt that he had seized the opportunity to pay off his grudge against the English merchant. Jack shrank somewhat from a meeting with the general, but his indignation outweighed every other feeling, and, plucking up his courage, he made his way to the luxurious railway-carriage which served Bekovitch for quarters.
He had to wait some time before he gained admittance to the general's presence. When at last he was invited to enter, he found Bekovitch lolling on a divan smoking a cigarette, a champagne bottle at his elbow. He was a tall fair man, inclining to stoutness, with a long moustache and carefully-trimmed beard, and looked in his white uniform a very dignified representative of the military bureaucracy.
Jack's residence as a boy in Vladivostok had given him a good colloquial knowledge of Russian, so that he had no difficulty in addressing the general in his own language.
"I have recently heard, sir, of my father's arrest," he said, "and I have come to ask if you will be good enough to tell me where he is and what he is charged with."
"You are Mr. Brown's son? How do you do?" said the general suavely. "I am sorry for you. It is a bad business altogether. I should be quite justified in refusing to give you information, but I am, of course, willing to stretch a point in a case like this—father and son, you know. Well, I regret to say that I had to arrest your father for giving military information to the Japanese."
"But, sir, that is ridiculous. My father never did such a thing. He has had no connection, not even a business one, with the Japanese; he doesn't like them. Besides, he would never think of doing anything underhand. No one who knows him could even imagine it."
If Bekovitch felt the personal application, he did not show it.
"Very creditable, very creditable indeed. A loyal son; excellent. I should be the last to undeceive you; therefore we will say no more about it. Let me offer you a cigarette."
"No, thank you, sir. Really the matter cannot end thus. What evidence have you against my father?"
The general shrugged.
"Well, if you will—— We had our suspicions; your father is an Englishman, you know; we examined his papers and found proof of our suspicions—full, conclusive. There is no doubt at all about it."
"But you will allow my father to clear himself. I am sure he can do so."
"We have no time for long-winded processes," replied the general, throwing away the end of his cigarette and lighting another. "Moukden, as you must be aware, young man, is under martial law."
"Then what has become of my father, sir? Where is he?"
"We might have shot him, you know." The general's manner was suaver than ever. "But we are a merciful people. Your father has merely been—deported."
At this Jack felt that either there was a hole in the net woven around his father, or the Russians had feared to proceed to extremities owing to his British nationality.
"Well, sir," he said, "I shall, of course, appeal to our government."
"Certainly, my young friend, certainly! But on what ground? See, I recognize your anxiety; it is perfectly natural; for that reason I am patient with you. But we must be the judges as to who shall stay in Manchuria, who shall leave. Your father is now on his way to—to the frontier. You will follow without loss of time. I give you twelve hours to quit the city. A pass shall be made out for you; you will go by to-night's train to Harbin."
General Bekovitch's manner was as urbane and polite as ever, but there was in his tone a something that warned the boy that further protest would be useless. Still, he must make one more effort to discover his father's whereabouts.
"Has my father gone to Harbin?" he asked.
"I have told you, my young friend, he has been deported. I can tell you no more."
"But why not tell me his route, General Bekovitch? He was in any case leaving for England in a few days. If I am to go to Harbin I should like to know whether there is any possibility of overtaking my father and proceeding to Europe with him."
For answer the general summoned an attendant.
"Michel Sergeitch, show this young man out."
Jack gave him one look, then turned in silence towards the door.
"One moment," called the general after him. "As I said, a pass shall be sent you. The train leaves at eight. If you are found here to-morrow, you will be arrested and escorted as a prisoner to the frontier. That, I may remark, is an unpleasant mode of travelling. Remember, eight o'clock."
CHAPTER IV
The Great Siberian Railway
Duty and Inclination—A Domiciliary Visit—Monsieur Brin Protests—A Reminder—The Ombeloke—Quandary—Salvage—A Fortune in Soles—Fellow Passengers—From a Carriage Window—A Further Search—At the Sungari Bridge—Off the Line—The Compradore's Brother—Consultation—A Bargain—The Terms—The Last Load—In a Horse-box
Jack had rage in his heart as he walked back to the city. He was angry and indignant, but even more alarmed. The general had told him little: was that little the truth? What did he mean by "deported"? If Mr. Brown had really been put across the frontier, why should the general have refused to say by what route he had travelled? Jack feared that there had been foul play, and his anxiety was none the less because he could not imagine what form the foul play had taken.
His own position was awkward. He was homeless; in a few hours he was to be packed like a bundle of goods into a train and carried away against his will. His father might have preceded him to Europe; on the other hand, he might not. Was he to leave Moukden thus, in uncertainty as to his father's fate?
Thus perplexed and troubled in mind, he walked back to his house. At the door he found Monsieur Brin in a state of desperation at his inability to make head or tail of the compradore's pidgin English.
"Ha, my friend!" he exclaimed, "I am glad to see you; I must know the worst; I come in haste, but the Chinese man speaks a language of monkeys; I understand it not. Tell me what is arrived."
"I have seen General Bekovitch," replied Jack. "He told me almost nothing. My father has been deported—for betraying secrets to the Japanese, if you please! Did you ever hear of anything so ridiculous, so preposterous!"
"But that is all right. O.K. Deported! Mr. Brown is the happy man. It would please me to be deported also. He goes back to Europe: that I could accompany him!"
"But that is the point. Has he gone back to Europe? The general would not tell me. And he is packing me off too! I have to leave by to-night's train for Harbin, or he will put me under arrest."
"Hé! That is a scandal. I will expose it. I will write it all to my redacteur. Ah! But I ask myself, will the redacteur publish my letter? France is allied to Russia. A French publicist has to consider not solely his own persuasions, but his duty to his country. I reflect: it will be best actually to write nothing. But if, my friend, there needs money, demand me; I can furnish hundred, hundred and fifty roubles: it will be to me a pleasure."
"Many thanks, Monsieur! I do not think I shall need your assistance. I told the general I shall appeal to our government. Unluckily we have no consul here; the nearest, I suppose, is at Shanghai; and being sent off to Harbin, I don't know when I shall have an opportunity of communicating with our authorities."
"Truly, it is a difficult situation. And your goods here: what will they become?"
"They'll be confiscated, I suppose. As you see, I am locked out. Luckily we have nothing of any great value. My father sent off in advance all that he wished to keep, and they can't touch his account at the Hong-Kong and Shanghai bank."
He said nothing about the securities in Hi Lo's possession, not from any want of faith in the Frenchman's good-will, but not entirely trusting his discretion.
"They have no right to lock me out," continued Jack. "And as General Bekovitch said he'd send me a pass for the train, he must suppose he'll find me here. So if Mr. Hi will put his shoulder to the door, I think we'll force the lock and see what they have been doing."
The stalwart compradore made short work of the fastenings. Accompanied by Monsieur Brin and the Chinaman, Jack entered his father's house. There were manifest signs of ransacking. The floor of the office was strewn with papers; in the dining-room the drawers had been emptied; and a large oaken press, a fine specimen of Chinese cabinet-making on which Mr. Brown set much store, had been forced open. They were contemplating the dismal scene when Hi Lo came running in.
"Masta," he said hurriedly, "thlee fo' piecee Lusski walkee chop-chop this-side."
[image]A Search Party
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[image]
A Search Party
A few moments later the house was entered by four Siberian infantrymen, headed by a lieutenant and accompanied by a tall, fair, hook-nosed man, at the sight of whom Jack started. A light flashed upon him. Anton Sowinski was the Russian Pole who had been doing his best to ruin Mr. Brown's business, and had so bitterly resented Mr. Brown's successes. It was he, too, who had instigated the charge trumped up against Wang Shih in revenge for a business defeat. Was it unlikely that Sowinski had been the agent in this other trumped-up charge of espionage? If not, what was his business now?
"I have come," said the lieutenant, "to bring you the pass promised by General Bekovitch. Here it is."
He drew a large unsealed envelope from his pocket, and took from it a paper which he proceeded to read. It stipulated that Mr. John Brown, junior, was to leave Moukden by the train for Harbin at 8 p.m., en route for Europe. Replacing it in the envelope, the officer laid this upon the table and said:
"I regret, Monsieur, that I have a disagreeable duty to perform. I am ordered to search the house and everybody in it. Mr. Brown is known to have been in possession of certain vouchers which are now forfeit to my government. They could not be found when he was arrested; the conclusion is that they are in your possession. I must ask you to turn out your pockets."
"I have no papers," said Jack, "and I protest."
"I am sorry. I have my orders to carry out. Resistance is useless."
"Oh! I shall not resist. Search away."
The lieutenant had already posted a soldier at the back entrance, and had sent another man to bring into the room anyone whom he might find on the premises. As Jack was being searched, Hi Lo was brought in; he had slipped away when the Russians entered. Jack hoped that the boy had had time to hide the papers, for though the amount they represented was small in comparison with his father's total fortune, it was yet considerable in itself, and he was anxious to save it, not merely for its own sake, but because without it he would have no means of carrying through a plan he had already dimly determined on. Hi Lo's face was void of all expression. There were now in the room, besides the Russians, Jack himself, Monsieur Brin, the compradore, and his son. The door was locked.
Jack was searched from top to toe. Nothing was found on him save letters of no importance. The compradore and Hi Lo were examined in turn; they submitted meekly, and Jack almost betrayed his relief when he saw that the papers had not been discovered on the boy. Then the officer turned to Monsieur Brin, glancing at the red band on his arm.
"But I am a Frenchman," exclaimed the angry correspondent. "Why do you search me? I have nothing. I know nothing."
"I find you in Mr. Brown's house. I have orders to search everybody. I hope you will make no difficulty, Monsieur."
"Difficulty! It is you that make difficulty. It is an insult, an indignity. I am an ally; peste! for what good to be an ally if I am thus treated as an enemy! But I do not resist; no, I resign myself. From no one but an ally would I endure such an indignity."
"I am exceedingly sorry, Monsieur. General Bekovitch, in giving orders, of course did not contemplate for a moment the case of a French correspondent being present; but my instructions are positive. I have no choice but to carry them out."
"Well, I protest still once more. I will make the French nation know the price they pay for this so agreeable alliance."
Monsieur Brin was searched. No papers were found on him except his pocket-book, a lady's photograph, and several letters, which the officer glanced through, the Frenchman fuming with impatience and indignation. At the conclusion of the search the lieutenant threw a meaning glance at Sowinski, whose attitude throughout had convinced Jack of the correctness of his surmise. The Pole's presence was in itself a sufficient proof of his personal interest in Mr. Brown's fate. An hour was spent in making a further examination of the scattered papers; nothing incriminating being found, the lieutenant gave his men the order to march. At the last moment he glanced at the envelope on the table.
"Take care of it, Monsieur," he said; "it would be awkward for you if it were lost."
When the party had gone, Monsieur Brin fairly exploded with wrath. English was too slow for him; a rapid torrent of French came from his quivering lips. But Jack's attention was diverted from the Frenchman by the strange antics of Hi Lo, who was dancing round his father, his face beaming with delight.
"You hid the papers?" said Jack. "You are a good boy. Where are they?"
The boy pointed to the envelope on the table.
"What do you mean?"
"Masta, look-see. Masta, look-see."
Jack lifted the envelope. The boy's glee puzzled him. Opening it, he took out the Russian pass, and with it half a dozen thin slips of paper written upon in Russian and French. He could hardly believe his eyes. They were the very papers for which the officer had sought so diligently but in vain.
"How is this? What does it mean?" he said in blank amazement.
"Hai-yah! Velly bad Lusski man look-see Masta; allo piecee bad man look-see all-same; no can tinkee Hi Lo plenty smart inside. Hai-yah! Allo piecee Lusski man look-see that-side; my belongey this-side, makee no bobbely; cleep-cleep 'long-side table; my hab papers allo lightee: ch'hoy! he belong-ey chop-chop inside ombeloke; Lusski no savvy nuffin 'bout nuffin, galaw!"
Jack burst into a roar of laughter, and translated the boy's pidgin to the bewildered Frenchman. While the Russians were intent on searching Jack, and their backs were towards Hi Lo, the boy, knowing that his turn must come, seized the opportunity to slip the precious papers into the unclosed envelope on the table. Monsieur Brin flung up his hands and began to pirouette, then stopped to laugh, and held his shaking sides.
"Hi! hi! admirable! Excellentissime! Bravo! bravo! Ma foi! Comme il est adroit! Comme il est spirituel! Ho! ho! Tiens! Le gars mérite une forte récompense. Voilà!"
In his excess of enthusiasm he took a silver dollar from his pocket, spun it, and handed it to Hi Lo. The boy was sober in an instant. He gravely handed the coin back.
"No wantchee Fa-lan-sai man he dollar," he said.
Brin looked to Jack for an explanation.
"He is much obliged, but would rather not. You made a little mistake, Monsieur. You can't offend a Chinaman of this sort more than by offering him money. He is, indeed, a clever little chap. I'll take care he doesn't go unrewarded."
"Ha! That is another point for my chapter on the characteristics of the Chinese. But now, my friend, what will you do?"
"Really, Monsieur, I don't know. I must talk it over with the compradore."
"Very well then, I leave you. I go to write notes of this most interesting episode. I begin to enjoy war correspondence. You go at eight? I will be at the station to say adieu."
Jack spent more than an hour in serious consultation with Hi An, the compradore, a man of forty, who had served his father for nearly twenty years, and was heart and soul devoted to his interests. There was no question but that Jack must leave Moukden that night, and Hi An advised him to go straight to Moscow and take the first opportunity of communicating with the British Foreign Office. Meanwhile the compradore himself would do what he could to trace the whereabouts of his master. But this course Jack was very unwilling to adopt. In the first place, he had his father's instructions to realize the securities, so cleverly saved by Hi Lo. Then there was the consignment of flour which he hoped might run the Japanese blockade and come safe to harbour at Vladivostok. If it should arrive it would be worth a large sum of money, and Jack was not disposed to yield that a spoil to the Russians. Last and most important consideration, he was oppressed by the mystery of his father's fate. With the likelihood of innumerable delays on the congested railway, he might be three weeks or a month reaching Moscow; he foresaw difficulties in inducing the Foreign Office to move in a case where there was so little to go upon; and, above all, it was unendurable to think that his father might, for all he knew, be still near at hand, in danger and distress.
He was already determined, then, that, leave Moukden if he must, he would not leave Manchuria. But what could he do to secure his objects and his own safety? He wondered whether the news of his father's arrest had been telegraphed to Harbin and Vladivostok. That was unlikely, he thought, for two reasons. It was well known that Mr. Brown had been winding up his business; the Russian authorities, unless specially informed, would not suppose that there was any plunder to be got apart from what was found at Moukden. And the telegraph had been for months past very much overworked, what with the heavy railway traffic and the constant messages flashing to and fro between the principal depots in Manchuria and between Manchuria and St. Petersburg. It was therefore unlikely that the enforced departure of a Moukden merchant would be considered of sufficient importance to communicate. If this reasoning was correct, and Jack could contrive to reach Vladivostok before the news filtered through, he might save the remnants of his father's property, and turn the vouchers into negotiable securities. He would then find himself in possession of considerable funds, which he might use if necessary in tracking his father.
The first thing was to get to Vladivostok. The pass stipulated that he should go through Harbin over the Siberian railway to Moscow. To reach Vladivostok he must change trains at Harbin, and by that very fact become a fugitive and an outlaw. Apparently General Bekovitch did not intend to send him north under an escort; it probably never occurred to him that with his father deported, his home broken up, Jack would make an effort, in face of the definite order to quit the country, to remain. But though no escort was provided, he would undoubtedly be watched; and to slip away at Harbin in a direction the opposite of that intended promised to be a matter of considerable difficulty and danger.
The compradore shook his head when Jack explained what he had in his mind. Then, finding that his young master was determined, he did not attempt to dissuade him, but set himself in earnest to talk over ways and means. He had a brother in Harbin, a grain merchant, who had dealings with the Russians. This man might be able to give Jack information and assistance, and to him the compradore wrote a short note of introduction. The next thing was to provide for the safety of the Russian vouchers. Jack might be searched againen route, and it was therefore inadvisable to carry them in his pocket. He pondered for a time without finding any solution of the difficulty. He was sitting with crossed legs, his hands clasping his knee, his eyes cast down. Studying the heavy thick-soled boot he wore in summer, under stress of Manchurian mud, he suddenly bethought himself.
"You can turn your hand to most things, Mr. Hi; do you think you could split the sole of one of my boots and put it together again?"
"Of course, sir."
"That's the very thing, then. No one would ever think of taking my boot to pieces."
Hi An very quickly and deftly performed the necessary operation. Between the two parts of the split sole Jack placed the vouchers and letter of introduction; then the compradore neatly stuck them together again. He produced a roll of rouble notes, enough to pay preliminary expenses and leave a margin for emergencies.
"There, Master," he said. "I have done all I can."
"You're a good fellow. I must trust to the chapter of accidents for the rest. I may never see you again, Mr. Hi. If I come to grief, you will do what you can to find my father?"
"I will, Master, if I have to trudge on foot all the way to Pekin to ask help of the Son of Heaven himself."
Some minutes before eight o'clock Jack, by virtue of his pass, was admitted without a ticket to the platform at which the train for Harbin was drawn up. He had been compelled to take his farewell of Monsieur Brin, the compradore, and Hi Lo outside, much to the Frenchman's indignation. The line was very badly managed; the officials were soldiers, with no technical acquaintance with railway management. Trains were despatched from Moukden to Harbin, and from Harbin to Moukden, at any time that suited the officials at either end, without prearrangement, sometimes even without communication between the stations. On this particular train there was no distinction of classes, and Jack found himself one of some forty passengers packed into a carriage built for thirty. The company was exceedingly mixed. Russian officers were cheek by jowl with Chinese merchants; a huge long-bearded Russian pope was wedged between a German commercial traveller and a Sister with the red cross on her arm; at one end was a group of chattering Greek camp-followers, who brought out a filthy pack of cards long before the train started, and began a game of makao, which continued, with intervals for squabbling and refreshment, all the way to Harbin. Jack made himself as comfortable as he could in a corner, and prepared to sleep if the close proximity of his fellow-passengers and the stuffiness of the air allowed.
It was past nine o'clock before the train steamed out. Punctuality is a virtue non-existent on the Siberian railway. The journey taxed Jack's patience to the utmost. The line is single, doubled at intervals of five versts to allow of the passage of trains in opposite directions. The train was constantly being shunted into sidings, remaining sometimes for hours, no one could tell why; and one of the most annoying features of the constant stoppages was that the train, after running through a station where the passengers would have been glad to obtain refreshments, would come to a stand several versts beyond, where they had nothing to do but kick their heels and look disconsolately out on the country. On one of the sidings stood a goods train, two trucks of which were loaded with a large gun; it had no doubt been injured by a Japanese shell, and was being returned to arsenal for repair. In another train Jack noticed a truck crowded with poor wretches who appeared to be chained together—misdemeanants from the army, he surmised, on their way to one of the penal settlements in Siberia. At short intervals appeared the little brick huts of the soldiers guarding the line, and occasionally a group of three or four of those green-coated guards might be seen riding along at the foot of the embankment on their stout Mongol ponies.
Jack had travelled many times along the line, but not recently, and he was greatly interested in the amazing developments which it had undergone. New buildings of brick seemed to have sprung up like mushrooms along its course. Where formerly had been spacious fields of kowliang—the long-stalked millet of the country—with Chinese fangtzes few and far between, there were now wide bare stretches upon which Russian industry was erecting storehouses, engine-sheds, tile-covered residences for the officials. Some thirty-five miles from Moukden is Tieling, which, when Jack's train passed through at three o'clock in the morning—having taken just six hours to run that distance—seemed to be nothing but a collection of scaffolding, with Chinese bricklayers already at work, trowel in hand. Between Tieling and Harbin stretches an immense plain, fertile for the most part, and hitherto left almost unspoiled. Nowhere does the line pass through a Chinese village; these were purposely avoided by the Russian engineers from motives of policy, and in deference to native susceptibilities. They are for the most part out of sight from the railway. All that can be seen is, on the right, the broad rutty mandarin highway; on the left, a narrower road edging interminable fields of kowliang. There are few stations between Moukden and Harbin: at two, Tieling and Kai-chuang, the Russians had established their base hospitals.
Hour after hour passed. Jack whiled away a good part of the time by whittling sticks with his penknife, somewhat to the amusement of the Russian army doctor who sat next to him, and who did not appear to notice that the sticks were shaped to a definite size, and that, after several had been thrown away, two or three were placed in Jack's pocket. Many times the train was halted at a doubling to allow a troop train to pass, filled with Russian soldiers on the way to the front, shouting, singing, in the highest spirits. At one point an empty Red Cross train stood on a siding, having emptied its freight of wounded men at one of the hospitals.
During one of the stoppages the belaced official who acted as guard politely requested Jack to step into the station-master's office, where he was searched by one of the soldiers. He was thus left in no doubt that he was under surveillance, and when he got back to his carriage he found that his bag had been opened. He congratulated himself on his forethought in concealing his papers so effectually in his boot.
At the moment of saying good-bye the compradore had given him a piece of news that made him anxious to complete his journey. A Chinese employed at the station had told him that Anton Sowinski had booked a seat by the next day's train. It was by no means impossible that this train, if it happened to carry any important passengers, would overtake and pass the first somewhere on the line. The Pole was likely to spread the news of Mr. Brown's arrest, and if he should succeed in getting to Vladivostok before Jack the game would certainly be up.
At length, about forty-five hours after leaving Moukden, someone said that Harbin was in sight, and there was instantly a movement and bustle among the passengers.
"Keep your seat," said the doctor to Jack with a smile.
"Thanks! I know," said Jack with an answering smile.
The train slowed down, then stopped at the southern end of the bridge over the Sungari river. It was as though the engine were parleying with the sentry. On the right rose the barracks of the frontier guards, surrounded by a loopholed wall. At the bridge end were two guns framed in sand-bags, and watched by two sentinels. Across the river, above and below the bridge, an immense boom prevented traffic either up or down. While the train halted, an official came along the carriages, fastened all the windows, locked all the doors; to open them before the bridge was crossed entailed a heavy penalty. When all the passengers were thus secured, and there was no chance of any Japanese spy throwing a bomb on to the bridge, the train moved slowly on, passed more guns at the farther end, and came to rest at the spacious station in the Russian quarter of the town.