CHAPTER XVI
Somewhere in the distance a sweet-voiced temple bell resoundeddreamily. Vague odors of sandalwood and wistaria swam in the soft,cool air. A ray of warm sunlight fell upon Peter's inert hand, and heopened his eyes.
Memory came slowly back to him. He remembered that he had killed. Thelast thing he distinctly recalled from that moment of ungovernable furywhich had taken hold of him was that Kahn Meng, the traitor, had drawna pistol. As a natural consequence he should be dead. Perhaps he was.
Slowly his brain became clear, although queer vapors arose in it.
Soft footsteps crossed the stone flagging with a clicking of daintyheels. Small fingers, exquisite to the touch, brushed the tousled hairfrom his forehead. These were cool and pleasant.
"Old Sweetheart!" said a happy voice.
The cool fingers crept underneath his chin and lingered there. Otherscrept under his neck. A warm, satiny cheek floated down to rest uponhis forehead.
Dozens of questions swarmed out of the wreckage of his wakingconsciousness.
"You are safe? Where are we? What happened to that scoundrel, KahnMeng? Why did they bring you here? Did they harm you? Who hit----"
A silvery laugh interrupted him. "Yes, yes--yes!" said the voice thatwas sweeter to him than all of the music in Christendom with heathendomthrown in for good measure.
"I am safe. I was kidnapped and treated with all respect due a famousdoctor--because a dead monster was suffering from neuritis. We arealone, in a tiny glass house on the roof of the ivory palace, and dawnhas this very moment come. Such a glorious dawn, Peter!
"Are you rested? I never saw any one so completely burned out. Suchfury! Gracious, what a man! But why, Peter, did you attack poor KahnMeng? He's the best friend you have in the world!"
"The Gray Dragon!" muttered Peter, clenching his fists.
"Peter, Kahn Meng would lay down his life for you. Of course, he isthe Gray Dragon; but that is only a name now. He is the Gray Dragon,and he has you, and you only, to thank for it.
"The title is hereditary, and he is the last of his line. He knew whatthat monstrous father of his was doing, and he has been helpless--untilyou freed him. And the dreadful secret, Peter, is that that beast wasnot Kahn Meng's father. A Singhalese trader, murdered years ago, washis father, and his mother, a beautiful woman of the Punjab, was for atime the wife of the beast!
"The entire organization has now come under Kahn Meng's control. He isthe Gray Dragon of Len Yang, and it is a title that from now on will bea power for good, for construction!
"You can't imagine what wonderful plans he has. He's a genius--thatyoung man is, Peter! And you--you--are to be his chief executive, theviceroy of Len Yang! The chief of mines, of transportation, of labor!He told me that millions of dollars of capital are at your disposal.
"Last night we planned a great railroad line, running from the mines toChosen and Peking and Tientsin! Think of it, Peter! What opportunity!
"While I," Eileen went on blithely, "am to start a hospital. No moreblindness, no more sickness, in Len Yang. And shorter working hours.And an age limit. And schools. And good food, and lots of it!
"From now on our work is to assume a world-wide importance. Word cameover the wireless late last night that Germany has finally started thelong-expected European war. Kahn Meng believes every nation will bedrawn into it. So there is another menace for you to help stampout--the Dragon of Europe. Kahn Meng says these mines, and the copperand iron mines, nearer the coast, can help--wonderfully!"
Peter felt vastly happy, too enthralled to believe that the state couldendure. He stood up from the cot and looked down into the bright faceof the one woman in the world. It was radiant, very pink, now, and herround eyes were tender and meek. Perhaps she was a little frightenedby the fierceness which had developed in his expression.
She opened her arms with a little laugh. He crushed her close. Theirlips met and clung.
He pushed her away, and his blue eyes were impassioned.
Eileen smiled. "Look!"
The white snow on the high peaks across the valley glowed with theheavy gold of sunrise. Far below them, midway to the green wall, hesaw a great mass of people. There were hundreds packed about the mouthof the shaft. He wondered why they were waiting; then the shrill voiceof a crier penetrated the cool morning air. The thousands waited insilence.
Peter wondered at their dumbness in the face of the news that the manwho had ridden them into blindness, into starvation and death, was nolonger to tyrannize over them.
The crier continued to shout his singsong.
How would the spirit of that mob react to the announcement?
The singsong halted, and for a breathless moment the miners, too, weresilent.
Then a great volume of sound disturbed the morning hush. It swelled involume, rose in key--a great thunder, the thunder of laughing voices,the hysterical joy of a people made free! It filled the valley andoverflowed into the hills, a prolonged wave of happy tumult.
Peter the Brazen: A Mystery Story of Modern China Page 52
