Peter the Brazen: A Mystery Story of Modern China

by George F. Worts

  CHAPTER III

  At dinner Peter met the notables. It seemed the fat and handsomecaptain had taken a fancy to him. And it was as Peter had deducedearlier. These passengers were stodgy Dutchmen, each with a littleworld of his own, and forming the sole orbit of that little world. Forthe most part they were plantation owners escaping the seasonal heatfor the cool breezes of a vacation in Japan, boastful of theirpossessions, smug in their Dutch self-complacency, and somewhatgluttonous in their manner of eating.

  The fat captain beamed. The fat plantation owners gorged themselvesand jabbered. The three-piece orchestra played light opera that theworld had forgotten. The company became light-hearted as more frostybottles of that exotic drink, _arracka_, were disgorged by the _PersianGulf's_ excellent ice-box. And all the while, speaking in light,soothing tones, Romola Borria gazed alluringly into the watchful eyesof Peter Moore.

  At length the chairs were pushed back, and Peter, with this fairy-likecreature in a dinner-gown of most fetching pink gossamer clinging tohis arm, took to the deck for an after-dinner Abdullah.

  They chatted in low, confiding tones of the people in the dining-room.They whispered in awe of the Southern Cross, which sparkled like froston the low horizon. She confessed that at night the moon was her god,and Peter, feeling exalted under the influence of her exquisite charm,the touch of the light fingers upon his arm which tingled and burnedunder the subtle pressure, became bold and recited that verse of"Mandalay" wherein "I kissed her where she stood."

  It was quite thrilling, quite delicious, and altogether quite too fineto last.

  After a while, when they were passing the door of the wireless cabin,Romola squeezed his arm lightly and expressed a desire to have him senda message, a message she had quite forgotten. When Peter replied thatsuch a message would be costly, involving an expensive retransmissionby cable from Manila to Hong Kong, she only laughed.

  Peter snapped on the green-shaded light and handed her pad and pencil.Dropping lightly to the couch which ran the length of the oppositewall, she nibbled at the pencil's rubber, and her smooth brow wasdarkened by a frown of perplexity.

  Peter, lowering the aerial switch, sent out an inquiring call for theManila station. The air was still as death. A dreary hush filled theblack receivers, and then, through this gloomy silence trickled afar-away silver voice, the brisk, clear signals of Manila.

  He swiveled half around, and the girl nervously extended the pad ofradio blanks.

  The message was directed to Emiguel Borria, the Peak, Hong Kong, and itcontained the information that she would reach the Hong Kong anchorageon the following Tuesday morning. The last sentence; "Do not meet me."

  Peter inclined his eyebrows slightly, but not impertinently, countedthe words and flashed them to the operator at Manila.

  This one shot back the following greeting:

  "Who are you? Only one man on the whole Pacific has a fist like that."

  Peter changed the manner of his sending, resorting to a long andpainful "drawl."

  "I am a little Chinese waif," Peter spelled out slowly, and smiled,adding: "Good hunting to you, Smith!" He signed off.

  The silvery spark of Smith was quick in reply.

  "If you are Peter Moore, the Marconi people are scouring the earthtrying to find you. Are you Peter Moore?"

  "In China," replied Peter breezily, changing back to the inimitablycrisp sending for which he was famous, "we bite off people's noses whoare inquisitive. Good night, old-timer!"

  The voice of Manila screamed back in faint reprisal, but Peter droppedthe nickeled band to the ledge, and pivoted quickly, to face the girl.

  It was startling, the look she was giving him. Perhaps he hadcompleted the transmission before she was aware. At all events, whenPeter turned with a smile, her eyes bored straight into his with adistorted look, a look that seemed cruel, as if it might have sprungfrom a well of hate; and hard and glinting and black as polished jade.

  All of this vanished when she caught Peter's eyes, and it was as thepassage of a vision, unreal. In its place was an expression ofdemureness, of gentle, almost fondling meekness. Had she been staring,not at him, but beyond him, over the miles to a detestable scene, aview of horror? It seemed more than likely.

  Then he observed that the door of the wireless room was closed. Hemade as if to open it, but she interrupted him midway with a commandinggesture of her white, small hand.

  "Lock it, and sit down here beside me."

  Somewhat dazed and greatly flabbergasted, Peter obeyed.

  He locked the door, then sat down beside her. She moved closer, tookhis hand, wrapped both of hers tightly around it, and leaned toward himuntil the breath from her parted lips was upon his throat, moist andwarm, and her eyes were great shining balls of limpid mystery anddancing excitement, so close to his that he momentarily expected theireyelashes to mingle.

  She caught her breath, and then, for such dramatic circumstances, madea most ridiculous remark. She realized that herself, for she whippedout:

  "It is a foolish question. But, Mr. Moore, do you believe in love atfirst sight?"

  Peter's tense look dissolved into a smile of giddy relief. He wasexpecting something quite frightful, and the clear wit of him found aready answer.

  "Foolish?" he chuckled. "Why, I'm the most devout worshiper at theshrine! The shrine brags about me! It says to unbelievers: Now, ifyou don't believe in love at first sight, just cast your orbs uponPeter Moore, our most shining example. Allah, by Allah! The oldphilanderer is assuredly of the faith!"

  "I am quite serious, Mr. Moore."

  "As I was afraid, Miss Borria. Seriously, if you must know it, thenhere goes: As soon as I saw you I was mad about you! Call itinfatuation, call it a rush of blood to my foolish young head, call itanything you like----"

  "Why don't you stop all this?" she broke him off.

  "All what?" he inquired innocently.

  "This--this life you are leading. This indolence. This constanttoying with danger. This empty life. This sham of adventure-love thatyou affect. It will get you nothing. I know! I, too, thought it wasa great lark at first, and I played with fire; and you know just whathappens to the children who play with fire.

  "At first you skirt the surface, and then you go a little deeper, andfinally you can do nothing but struggle. It is a terrible feeling, tofind that your wonderful toy is killing you. Certain people in China,Mr. Moore, are conducting practises that you of the western world frownupon. And blundering upon these practices, as perhaps you have, youbelieve you are very bold and daring, and you are thrilled as you rubelbows with death, in tracing the dragons to their dens."

  "Dragons!" The syllables cracked from Peter's lips, and his wits,which were wandering in channels of their own while this lectureprogressed, suddenly were bundled together, and he was alert and keenlyattentive.

  "Or call them what you will," went on the girl in a low-pitchedmonotone. "I call them dragons, because the dragon is a filthy,wretched symbol."

  "You have some knowledge of my encounters with--dragons?" put in Peteras casually as he was able.

  "I profess to know nothing of your encounters with anybody," repliedthe girl quietly and patiently. "I base my conclusions only on what Ihave seen. This morning I saw you throw a Chinese coolie into theharbor at Batavia. It happens that I have seen that coolie before, andit also happens that I know a little--do not ask me what I know, for Iwill never tell you--a little about the company that coolie keeps."

  "I guess you are getting a little beyond my depth," stated Peteruncomfortably. "Would you mind sort of summing up what you've justsaid?"

  "I mean, I want to try to persuade you that the life you have beenliving is wrong. At the same time, I want you to help me, as only youcan help me, in putting a life of wretchedness behind me. It is askinga great deal, a very great deal, but in return I will give you morethan you will ever realize, more than you can realize, for you cannotrealize the danger that surrounds your
every movement, and willcontinue to surround you until they--_they_--are assured that you havedecided to forget them."

  Peter shook his head, forgetting to wonder what an officer might thinkupon finding the door locked. Would the jovial little captain be quiteso jovial viewing these incriminating circumstances? Not likely. ButPeter had dismissed the fat captain from his mind, together with allother alien thoughts, as he concentrated upon the amazing words of thisexceedingly amazing and beautiful girl. She was looking down at thechevron of gold sparks on his sleeve.

  "I can tell you but one more thing of consequence," she continued. "Itis this: Together we can stand; divided we will fall, just as surely asthe sun follows its track in the heavens. I have a plan that willoffend you--perhaps offend you terribly--but there is no other way.When _they_ know that we have decided to forget them, we can breatheeasily. Our secrets, grown stale, are not harmful to them."

  "I am always open to any reasonable inducement," Peter said dryly.

  The eyes meeting his were quite wild.

  "How would you like to go to some lovely little place to have money, tolive comfortably, even luxuriously, with a woman of whom you could bejustly proud, and who would bend every power with the sole view ofmaking you happy?"--she was blushing hotly--"and all this woman woulddemand in return would be your loyalty, your respect--and later yourlove, if that were possible."

  "But this--this is--astounding!" Peter exclaimed.

  "I expected you to say that. But let me assure you, I have thoughtthis over. I have given it every possible consideration, and now Iknow there is no other way. I want to leave China. I want to go awayforever and ever. I must leave."

  Her shoulders jerked nervously.

  "My life has been miserable--so miserable. And I am not brave enoughto go through with it alone. I am afraid, terribly afraid. And afraidof myself, and of my weakness. I must be encouraged, must have someone to make me strong and brave, and afterward to take the good in meand bring it out, and kill the bad."

  She relinquished Peter's hand and thumped her chest with small fists.

  "There is good in me; but it has never been given a chance! I want aman who will bring that good out, a man who will make me fine and trueand honorable. For such a man I would give everything--my life!" Shelowered her voice. "I would give my best--my love. When I saw youlift the coolie, after he showed you his knife, I thought you were sucha man; and when I looked into your face I believed I had found such aman. The rest--remains--for you to say."

  "Where do you want me to t-take you?" demanded Peter.

  "Ah! That is of so little importance! To Nara--Nagoya--toAustralia--America."

  She shrugged, as if to say, "and little I care."

  "Now I am offering you only two rewards for that sacrifice--your safetyagainst _them_--and money. You can name your price. I feel that youwill come to love me; but that can come, if it cares, any time. Whenyou want me--I will be waiting. I want you to consider this now. Now!Will you? Tell me that you will!"

  "I--I don't know what to say!" stammered Peter in a husky voice."Are--you are not joking, are you, Miss Borria? You can't be! Butthis is so serious! Shocking! Why, you never saw me before! Whyshould you pick me for such a thing when you never saw me? You don'tknow me. You don't know what a brute I might be. Why, I might bemarried for all you know----"

  "I am reasonably sure," said the girl with some of her former serenity.

  "But this--this is unbelievable!" cried Peter. "You never saw mebefore to-day. Why, you're a nice girl. You're not the kind of girlwho runs away with a man at first sight. You're not in love with me atall. Not at all. Miss Borria----"

  A flame of hot suspicion shot athwart Peter's mind. He seized herhands, glared into her eyes, dragged her to her feet.

  "See here!" he clamored. "Tell me what you really want. What's yourgame, eh? You're a wise little bird, you are. I may look stupid, Imay not see all the way through this talk you've been giving me.You're holding back. What is it? Come on! Out with it!"

  She was not disturbed in the least at his harshness, nor did sheseemingly disapprove of the rough way he handled her.

  "I am married," she said simply.