The Red Rat's Daughter Part 23

"Herr Sauber?" inquired the German. "I cannot d.i.n.k that I am mit him acquainted."

Browne's disappointment was plainly discernible on his face. He had fully expected that, immediately he presented the letter Sauber had given him, this mysterious Johann Schmidt would understand and arrange everything. This, however, did not appear to be the case. The man before him sucked stolidly at his pipe, and watched him with eyes that had no expression in them. The position was embarra.s.sing, to say the least of it. Was it possible that his mission was going to prove futile after all, and that, for the good he was to get out of it, he might just as well not have wasted his time by calling at Hong-kong at all? For upwards of thirty most uncomfortable seconds the two men stood watching each other. Then Browne spoke.

"You are quite sure, I suppose," he asked, "that you do not know the gentleman in question? I certainly understood from him that you had been acquainted with each other for many years."

The German shook his head. Then he said slowly, "Perhaps, mein frien, if you would mit me come, I will talk mit you ubon the madder. So many men do say dot they know Johann Schmidt. But Johann do not know dem.

If you to mine office would come, we will talk mit each other dere."

Browne accordingly followed him behind the curtain to which I have alluded. There he found, to his surprise, a most comfortable and, I might almost add, luxurious apartment. The walls were hung with pictures of considerable merit, interspersed with innumerable curios, collected from almost every country in the Farther East. In any other place the room might have ranked as a fairly noteworthy apartment; but here, surrounded by so much that was sordid--nay, almost barbaric--it was little short of unique. Pointing to a long bamboo chair which fitted a corner beneath an enormous Cantonese dragon, used for burning pastilles, the German bade Browne seat himself. Before the latter did so, however, he handed the German the letter with which Herr Sauber had furnished him. The other took it, cut the flap of the envelope with a jade paper-knife, and, drawing forth the contents, placed an enormous pair of spectacles upon his nose, and read them thoroughly. Upwards of five minutes had elapsed between the time Browne had given him the letter until he spoke again. These long delays were having a bad effect upon the young man's temper; they strained his nerves to breaking-pitch. He felt that this phlegmatic individual would not hurry himself, even if another's existence depended upon it. To all intents and purposes he had united in his person the apathy of the Asiatic with the stolidity of the Teuton.

"Now dat I look ubon it, I do remember Herr Sauber," the other replied.

"It was once dat we very good friends were, but it is many years dat I heard of him." The old fellow wagged his head solemnly until his gla.s.ses shook upon his nose. The recollection of the incident, whatever it was, seemed to afford him considerable satisfaction, though why it should have done so was by no means apparent to Browne.

"But with regard to what he says in the letter?" the young man at last exclaimed in desperation. "Will you be able to help me, do you think?"

"Ah! I know noddings about dat," answered Schmidt. "I do not understand what dis business is. If it is Chinese silk, or curios, or gondiments of any kind, den I know what you want. Dere is no one on dis island can subbly you so goot as Johann Schmidt."

Browne did not know what to say. For his own sake he knew that it would not be safe to broach such a delicate subject to a man, like the one seated before him, whose only idea in life seemed to be to cross one fat leg over the other and to fill and smoke his pipe until the room was one large tobacco-cloud, unless he was quite certain of that person's ident.i.ty with the individual, to whom he had been directed to apply.

"To put the matter in a nutsh.e.l.l," said Browne, lowering his voice a little in order that it should not carry farther than the man seated before him, "I understood from Herr Sauber that if any one happened to have a friend, who had the misfortune to be compelled to stay rather longer in a certain place, than was quite conducive to his health or peace of mind, by applying to you an arrangement might possibly be made, whereby his release might be effected."

Herr Schmidt for the first time took the pipe out of his mouth and looked at him. "Bardon, mein frien, but I do not understand what is meant by dat speech," he replied. "If de place, where dat frien of yours is living, is not to his health suited, why does not he elsewhere go?"

Though Browne felt morally certain that the man understood what he meant, he did not feel justified in speaking more plainly at the moment. He had to feel his way before he definitely committed himself.

However, a little reflection was sufficient to show him, that it would be impossible to make any progress at all unless he spoke out, and that even in the event of his doing so, he would not be placing himself in any way in the other's power. He accordingly resolved upon a line of action.

"The truth of the matter is, Herr Schmidt," he began, leaning a little forward, and speaking with all the emphasis of which he was master, "I happen to have a friend who is at the present time confined on a certain island. He is in delicate health, and his friends are anxious to get him away. Now, I have been informed that, if suitable terms can be arranged, it would be possible for you to effect this escape. Is this so?"

"Mine goot frien," returned the German, "let me tell you dat you speak too plain. The words dat you talk mit me would make trouble mit my friens de police. Besides, dere is no esgaping from der jail ubon dis island."

"I did not say anything about the jail upon this island," retorted Browne; "the place I mean is a very long way from here."

"Well then, Noumea, perhaps?"

"No, not Noumea," answered Browne. "If I am to enter into more explanations, I might say that my friend is a Russian, and that he is also a political prisoner." He stopped and watched Herr Schmidt's face anxiously. The latter was sitting bolt upright in his chair, with a fat hand resting on either knee; his spectacles were pushed on to the top of his head, and his long pipe was still in his mouth. Not a sign escaped him to show that he understood.

"I d.i.n.k dat mein old comrade, Herr Sauber, must have been drunken mit too much schnapps when he talk mit you. What should Johann Schmidt have to do mit Russian bolitical brisoners? His piziness is mit de curios of China, mit silk, rice, ginger, but not mit de tings you do speak to him about."

"Then I am to understand that you can do nothing to help me?" said Browne, rising from his chair as if to take leave.

"For mineself it is not possible," returned the other, with great deliberation. "But since you are a frien of mein old comrade Sauber, den I tink over tings and gause inquiries to be made. Dis a very strange work is, and dere are many men in it. I do not tell you dat it gannot be done, but it will be difficult. Perhaps dere may be a man to be found who will gommunicate mit your friend."

The meaning of this speech was perfectly clear to him. In plain English, it, of course, meant that, while Herr Schmidt was not going to commit himself, he would find some one else who would.

"I should be under a life-long obligation if you would do so," answered Browne. "And what is more, I may as well say now I am not afraid to pay handsomely for the service rendered."

This time there was a twinkle to be seen in the German's eye. "I know noddings at all about what you speak; you will remember dot," continued he. "But I will do de best I can. If you write me now on a paper de name of your frien, and de place where he is--what shall we say?--now staying, I will let you know what de price would be, and when der work can be done. It will be--how you call it?--a ready-money transaction."

"I desire it to be so," replied Browne a little shortly.

There was silence between them for a few moments. Then Schmidt inquired where Browne's yacht was anch.o.r.ed. Browne informed him; and as he did so, it struck him that this was a rather curious remark upon his companion's part, if, as he had led him to believe at the beginning of the interview, he knew nothing whatever about his coming to Hong-kong. However, he did not comment upon it.

"Dat is goot, den," said Schmidt. "If I find a man who will run de risk, den I will gommunicate mit you before den o'clock to-night."

Browne thanked him; and, feeling that they had reached the end of the interview, bade him good-bye and pa.s.sed through the shop out into the street once more. His coolie was still seated on the shafts of his _ricksha_; and, when Browne had mounted, they returned at a smart trot, by the way they had come, to the Club. Here he found his friends awaiting him. They had done the sights of the city, and were now eager to get back to the yacht once more.

CHAPTER XXII

"Did you find your friend Schmidt?" inquired their host of Browne as he seated himself in a chair and lit a cigar.

"Yes," the latter answered, "I found him, and a curious character he is. He has some wonderful curios in his shop, and I could have spent a day there overhauling them."

"I should be very careful, if I were you, what sort of dealings you have with him," said the other, with what struck Browne as a peculiar meaning. "He does not bear any too good a reputation in these parts.

I have heard some funny stories about him at one time and another."

"Oh, you need not be afraid on my account," replied Browne. "As I told you in your office, my dealings with him are of a purely commercial character, and I don't think he has robbed me of very much so far.

Now, what would you say if we were to make our way to the yacht?"

They accordingly adjourned to the boat. Perhaps, as the result of his interview that afternoon, Browne was in the highest of spirits. He did the honours of his table royally, and the new-comer, ever since that day, has been wont to declare that it was the jolliest dinner of which he has ever partaken in his life. How little he guessed the tragedy that was overhanging it all! Of the quartette, Maas was the only one in any way silent. For some reason or another _he_ seemed strangely preoccupied. It was not until some months later that Browne heard from Jimmy Foote that that afternoon, during their perambulations of the city, he had excused himself, and having discovered the direction of the telegraph station, had left them for upwards of three-quarters of an hour.

"I am not quite myself to-night," he remarked, in reply to a remark from Browne. "But I have no doubt I shall be all right again to-morrow."

Dinner being at an end, they adjourned to the deck, where they settled down to coffee and cigars. The myriad lights of the city ash.o.r.e flashed out, and were reflected like countless diamonds in the still waters of the bay. Browne was irresistibly reminded of another harbour-scene. At another momentous epoch of his life, he had sat on this self-same deck, and looked across the water at the lights ash.o.r.e.

And what a different man he had been then to the man he was now! So much had happened that it seemed scarcely possible it could be the same.

Their friend of the afternoon proved a most interesting companion. He had spent the greater portion of his life in the Farthest East, and was full of anecdotes of strange men he had met, and still stranger things he had seen. They reclined in their deck-chairs and smoked until close upon ten o'clock. Then the new-comer thought it was time for him to see about getting ash.o.r.e. He accordingly rose from his chair, and was commencing the usual preparatory speeches, when a hail from alongside reached their ears. A quartermaster went to the bulwark and inquired who was calling, and what he wanted. A voice answered him in educated English:--

"Can you tell me if this is the _Lotus Blossom_?" it said.

"Yes," answered the quartermaster. "What do you want?"

"I want to see Mr. Browne, if he is aboard," the other answered.

"He is aboard," returned the quartermaster. "But I don't know whether he can see you. I will inquire."

"Who is he?" asked Browne. "Tell him to give you his name."

The quartermaster hailed the sampan again. "He says his name is MacAndrew, sir," he replied after a short pause, "and if you will see him, he says he will not detain you many minutes."

"Let him come aboard, then," said Browne. "Just tell him to look sharp." Then, turning to his guests, he continued, "I wonder who the fellow is, and what he wants with me at this hour of the night." In his own heart he thought he knew pretty well.

"By the way," remarked his guest, "I should advise you to keep your eyes open while you are in this port. You can have no idea what queer sort of people you will have to do with; but when I tell you that it is the favourite meeting-place for half the villains of the East, you will have some very good notion."

"Thanks for the warning," returned Browne. "I'll bear it in mind."

He had scarcely finished speaking, before the figure of a man appeared at the top of the gangway and came towards them. He was tall and slimly built, was dressed entirely in white, and wore a helmet of the same colour upon his head. From an indescribable something about him--it may possibly have been his graceful carriage or the drawl in his voice when he spoke--he might very well have pa.s.sed for a gentleman.