by Anthology
At last the car drew up at the entrance of a massive stone and steel building in the Strand and the two officers alighted and hurried into the lofty waiting-room. The Major purchased tickets, for from the moment of their setting out, the very fact that they belonged to the Police had to be kept concealed and they were travelling as ordinary gentlemen of leisure, bent upon seeing the world, without the credentials which, under usual circumstances, would have secured them transportation to wherever they wished to go.
The station was alive with people. Bearded Russians jostled yellow-haired Englishmen; giant Scandinavians conversed with stocky Frenchmen; a swarthy Brazilian, gesticulating vehemently, followed the stolid porter who bore his belongings; two fresh-cheeked girls from the Bavarian Republic scanned the anxious crowd with amused eyes while their escorts struggled with a mountainous pile of hand baggage, and Leslie noticed, with a certain tugging at his heart, a fair-faced American bride, bewildered, but clinging with happy confidence to her husband as his broad shoulders opened a path to the gate which led to the platform.
As they neared the gate, the crush increased and a babel of farewells deafened them. Friend embraced friend and then broke away to join the thin stream which trickled through the barrier. There were good wishes and boisterous laughter and there were tears, too, for Leslie saw a woman clasp her wondering child to her and suddenly put her handkerchief to her eyes. But the Major, unmoved, forced his way through the throng, drawing the Captain after him, and presently they emerged upon the platform, beside which rose the high, white hull of the big dirigible. It was but a few minutes to the hour of departure and already the white-clad crew were taking their stations preparatory to casting off the moorings that held the long ship prisoner. The hands of the illuminated clock touched at the summit of the dial. A deep-toned bell boomed through the station and the white hull trembled and soared upward as if rejoicing to be free from the earth at last. The lights of London dropped below them and were blotted quickly from sight as the giant ship rose into a dense cloud.
Leslie stood at the rail and stared blankly into the clammy mist that hung around them. As its heavy folds blotted out the calm light of the myriads of stars and supplanted the free air of heaven with impenetrable heaviness, so his unexpected mission with its unknown dangers, all the more fearful because concealed, dimmed the serene and shining future that had lain before him and replaced his hope of happiness with a choking atmosphere of doubt and dread. He had never flinched from duty before, but before he had never looked forward to greater happiness than the commendation of his superiors and the consciousness of work well and faithfully done. Then, sacrifice had meant the glory of a martyr's death; now it meant that he would never see Evelyn again. He started as he felt a touch on his shoulder and heard the Major's even voice in his ear.
"I think we'd better turn in, Captain. We've a hard task ahead of us, and to do our best we must keep fresh and fit."
That same night, Lieutenant Tommy Hooker of the first-class dirigible Ariadne, unworried by his vigil of the previous, thirty hours or more, was smoking a contemplative pipe in his cabin while awaiting the order that would start him back to his home station. A knock came on his door and at his brief summons to enter, a corporal of the International Police presented himself and, saluting, held out to the Lieutenant a small packet and a letter. The officer acknowledged the offering with a nod and, when the soldier had withdrawn, transferred his feet from his desk to the floor and, opening the missive, considered the contents with close attention. It was a short letter, but the Lieutenant read it three times and then with a troubled countenance broke the strings of the thin package that accompanied it. For a short space he gazed at the contents, unmindful that his pipe was fast growing cold. Finally he arose with a sigh at the sound of a hurried footstep in the corridor outside his cabin.
"Thank God," he muttered to himself, "my heart is still free."
And when his cadet entered an instant later with the yellow tissue of a wireless order, the Lieutenant took the thin sheet without noticing that the boy was staring curiously at the half of a woman's golden bracelet which the officer still held in his left hand.
Chapter VI
Major Wilkie Disposes Of A Throne
IF the phantom of one of those European soldiers who tramped through the heat and dust to the relief of the besieged legations in the summer of 1900 could revisit the one-time Imperial city of Peking, he could be readily pardoned for at first mistrusting the evidence offered by his ghostly eyes. In place of the dirt and filth which he knew, he would find clean, well-paved streets and perfect sanitation; in place of the blackness which descended on the city as night closed in, he would see the brilliant glare of thousands of electric lights; in place of the bumping Peking cart in which he rode, he would be startled by the swift, smooth-gliding yellow street cars operated by the municipality. Much of the glory of old Peking has departed in these materialistic days, passing with the destruction of the picturesque old landmarks in the great fire which purged the city in the winter of 1937. The gaping tourist no longer gazes round-eyed at the splendours of the Lama Temple or wonders at the quaint old astronomical instruments in the Observatory. Instead he is led by obsequious guides through the rich beauties of the palace gardens, now a public park, and borne off to inspect the new water-works and the hideous, though imposing, government arsenal.
If the tourist is one of those unfortunate beings to whom a foreign city means simply so many buildings to behold (and carefully check off afterwards in his red-bound guide-book), so many streets to traverse (and mention casually with a frightful mangling of native names when once more among his own people), and so many curios to collect (to the despair of long-suffering customs officials), he will find little to interest him in the new Peking of the Republic of China. But if he be one of those rare souls for whom an unexplored metropolis holds but one thing — the life and manners of the people — he will leave the great northern capital with the firm conviction that his stay has not been in vain. For, although the external, material city has evolved into a thing blatantly and prosaically European, the immutable spirit of the East remains, inextricably and dominantly woven into the life of the inhabitants, and while, with the exception of the poorer classes, one finds the garb of western civilisation well-nigh universal, the soul of the Oriental still dwells within the outer shell, remote and inexplicable as in the days of Kublai Khan.
Possibly some such reflections as the foregoing occupied the mind of Captain Leslie Gardiner as he lounged along Legation street at the side of the taciturn Major Wilkie, for in the hour of their morning's ramble he had scarcely spoken three words. Speech of any kind was hardly to be expected from the silent Major and the casual conversation of companionship was practically unknown to him, so it was with some surprise that Leslie presently heard his brother officer enquire in a somewhat uninterested tone, "Did you ever make a study of Chinese history, Gardiner?"
"Why, yes," answered the Captain, hastily rounding up his wandering faculties. "I don't pretend to be a savant, of course, but I got the main events pretty well fixed in mind when I was out here before. In fact, I had to for some of the work I was doing."
"Then," continued the Major, in a still more uninterested manner, "perhaps you can run over some of the principal incidents in the life of Kuang Hsu for me — if you'd care to."
"Well," replied Leslie reflectively. "To begin with, the Emperor Kuang Hsu was the nephew of the famous Dowager Empress Tsze Hsi An, whose own and only son died when he was about twenty years old without leaving an heir to the throne. He apparently meant well, did Kuang Hsu, but he wasn't any match for his aunt the Empress Dowager, who practically kept him a prisoner in his own palace, because she didn't like his ideas of reform, through the last years of his reign. Rather mean of the old lady, I call it, but she was a strong-minded individual and liked to use her power. Kuang Hsu died in the fall of 1908 and the Empress Dowager died the next day. That practically ended the Manchu dynasty, for t
he revolution broke out about three years later and —"
"Yes, yes," broke in the Major rather impatiently, "that's far enough. Kuang Hsu was married, wasn't he?"
"Why, yes. Didn't I mention it? He married Yehonala, the daughter of Duke Kei, brother of the Empress Dowager, but there wasn't any offspring."
"Did you happen to know that the marriage was in deference to the wishes of the Empress Dowager and that Kuang Hsu really wanted another woman?"
"Can't say I did," replied the Captain, becoming interested. "Is that so?"
"Yes, and it's one of those little sidelights that make history interesting. To make up to Kuang Hsu for forcing a wife upon him whom he didn't want, the Empress Dowager permitted him to take the woman he loved for his chief concubine. This woman apparently had aspirations and, in addition, a brother who was one of the disciples of Kang Yu Wei, leader of the reform party which came into temporary power in 1898. Influenced by her brother, she brought Kang to the notice of the Emperor and when the reform movement fell with a crash shortly afterwards, this was remembered against her and she was degraded and imprisoned until the Boxer uprising in 1900. You may recall that the court fled from Peking when the allied troops marched to the relief of the besieged legations, and in the hurry of departure, the former chief concubine was overlooked and left behind in the palace. The story goes that she drowned herself in one of the palace wells to escape falling into the hands of the foreign soldiers." The Major paused significantly.
"And it wasn't true?" asked the Captain quickly.
"As a matter of fact, it wasn't," said the Major, "and I happen to be one of the very few who know about it. She escaped to the seacoast and a little later gave birth to a son, whose descendants are still living. It's a rather interesting story and one worth remembering by men in our line."
They had arrived in front of the lofty white stone front of the new Chih-li University, and here the Major came to a halt and glanced at his watch. At the same moment a young Chinaman emerged from the shadows of the pillared portico and came rapidly down the marble steps. He was redolent of the modern age of the Republic and his garments were of the most fashionable of western fashions. He greeted the Major with outstretched hand after the European manner and glanced significantly at Leslie. Wilkie made a reassuring gesture which the other apparently understood, for he at once said rapidly and in a low tone: "It is all arranged. My master will see you in half an hour."
"He is willing, then, to dispose of his merchandise?" enquired the Major in his ordinary manner.
The Oriental made a movement of assent.
"And the price?" queried the Major. "Has anything been arranged concerning the price?"
The other shook his head. "That must be decided between you," he replied. "But my master gave me to understand that he would consider no offer that was not worthy of the value of the commodity which he had for sale."
"I believe I am prepared to make him one which he will not refuse," said the Major with a grim smile. "And as it is so near the appointed time, I think we had better start along. Oh, by the way," he added, turning to Leslie, "allow me to present to you Mr. Li, one of our Peking agents."
The Captain acknowledged the young Chinaman's greeting without betraying any surprise. Since the beginning of his journey with the Major, the intricate and marvellously complete spy system which the Secret Service department maintained in all countries outside of the Federation had gradually unfolded before him until he had ceased to be astonished at meeting its ramifications in all places and at all times. He had known that such a system existed while doing his work as an Intelligence officer and had even been permitted to make use of it on one or two occasions, notably when on his former mission to the China frontier; but he had never before suspected its extent, for the activities of the Secret Service were jealously guarded and probably no one except Colonel Villon himself knew of all the resources which it had at its command.
Turning southward when they reached the western end of Legation street, the three men passed under the arch of the Chien-men gate and penetrated for some distance into the Chinese city, where the guide suddenly swung into a side street and pulled up before a rather dilapidated structure, half European and half Chinese, whose green-tiled roof and walls and red-lacquered woodwork bore witness to either the poverty or extreme indifference of the present owner. Without giving his companions any opportunity for conjecture, however, Mr. Li led the way swiftly through the entrance pavilion and across a courtyard paved with grey stone to the low one-story building wherein dwelt his master.
The latter proved to be a youngish Oriental, not quite tall enough to be called of average height nor quite short enough to be called undersized. He was slim and his slimness was accentuated by his close-fitting western garments, but withal there was a wiry alertness about his movements that bespoke strength and gave ample proof likewise that his student days had been spent among the descendants of the Anglo-Saxons. He shook hands with the Major in the manner of one thoroughly accustomed to the operation — another proof of his western training — and then turned enquiringly to the Captain.
"This is Captain Gardiner, Mr. Wu," said the Major, introducing him, and Leslie could not repress a start of astonishment at hearing his proper name and rank pronounced in public for the first time since they had set out upon their quest. "The Captain is with me in this business. Gardiner, I have the honour of making known to you Mr. Wu, as he prefers to be called in public, but who among friends" — and the Major shot a significant glance at the young Oriental —"is addressed as Tsai Chih, only grandson of Kuang Hsu, the last real Emperor of China."
In a flash Leslie's mind reverted to the short exercise in Chinese history through which his superior had put him only half an hour previously, and he understood and paid mental tribute to the clever brain of his taciturn companion. But Mr. Wu had invited them to be seated and now a servant entered bearing the inevitable tea.
"It is one of the few customs of my countrymen to which I still cling," observed their host with a quick smile when the servant had withdrawn. "And now, gentlemen, let us, if you please, talk of more important affairs."
He paused courteously to permit any one who so desired to initiate the discussion and Major Wilkie with characteristic directness plunged at once into the breach.
"I am taking it for granted, sir, that you realise the necessity for keeping our conversation absolutely from any outside ears and have taken the requisite precautions." His listener assented by a motion of his hand. "So I will say without hesitation that, as Mr. Li has in all probability already informed you, I have arrived at the knowledge — never mind how — that you are one of the leaders in the conspiracy, now fully matured, to invade the countries of the International Federation as soon as a favourable opportunity shall present itself. I know that this conspiracy has progressed to such a point that complete plans for the rapid mobilisation and organisation of three large armies — one in China, one in the Ottoman Empire, and one in India — have been drawn up and accepted by the nations engaged in this movement and now lie in a secret repository in this city along with the treaties in which the allied powers have bound themselves to stick together until the International Federation is destroyed. I know that even now the leaders in the plot are trying to induce Japan to join with them and have practically succeeded, and that the savage tribes in the outlying dependencies of the Federation have been urged to rise against their rulers when the blow falls."
If the Major expected any signs of amazement from his auditor at this unexpected disclosure by a foreigner of secrets so terrible that for one of those involved in the conspiracy to utter them even among sympathising compatriots meant instant death to the rash speaker, he was disappointed, for the impassive countenance of the Oriental remained placid and undisturbed.
"It is perfectly obvious to you," pursued the Major, "that it is of great importance that the Federation secure these plans of campaign, or at least accurate copies of them, in order to meet
the assault intelligently."
"Not only is it of the utmost importance, Major Wilkie," remarked Mr. Wu unexpectedly, "but it is necessary to the very life of your Federation that these papers pass into your hands. I have lived in the West for some years, Major, and I know that there this talk of a conspiracy to overwhelm the so-called civilised nations is not credited — no, nor will be until you can present to the people better proof than you have been able to do so far. I know the western peoples, Major Wilkie. A danger which they cannot understand does not exist for them and they are very far from understanding this danger in the East. Even those who think about the matter at all have no conception of the numbers we can bring against them or," — he added impressively — "of the thoroughness of our preparation. And I know another thing. In less than a month the force to which you belong — the only shield which the Federation possesses — will number less than half its present strength. That is the opportunity for which we have been waiting — and it will not be wasted."
