the outbreak of war, and viewed with amazement the careless assurance of the Russian attitude towards the "yellow monkeys", deemed so insignificant. Making many friends among the Russians, he saw much to admire in them: their kindliness and abounding hospitality, their perseverance in face of obstacles, their vital faith in their country's destiny. With the Japanese his personal relations had not been so intimate; but he had watched their progress from afar with the keenness of a clear-eyed observer, and he knew that when the trial came, the Russians would find the little men of Nippon no mean foes.

Events proved the accuracy of his forecast. The Russian fleet was bottled up, the Yalu crossed, Port Arthur was already beleaguered, and Stackelberg's attempt to relieve it had failed. Mr. Brown talked with some of the wounded who had been sent back from the Yalu to Moukden, and were now in hospital in a Buddhist monastery near the outer wall. They were not downcast: they spoke of being outnumbered and unprepared; when General Kuropatkin's army was complete the tide would turn, and then—— But he got them to talk of their actual experiences in battle. Some of them had been within arm's-length of their enemies in a bayonet charge; and what he learnt of the eager joy, the buoyant audacity, displayed by the Japanese, strengthened his belief that, given equal generalship, equal numbers, equal equipment, such a spirit could scarcely be matched, and was bound to lead them to victory.

Prudent but not alarmist, Mr. Brown considered how the war would affect him. The Japanese were pressing northward; should Port Arthur fall, the besieging army would be able to strengthen Marshal Oyama's forces in the field. If the Russians were compelled to withdraw from Manchuria, Mr. Brown could hardly hope to save his business, and it behoved him to set his house in order. Another consideration weighed with him. The development of the railway and the imminence of war had brought new men on the scene. The Russian officers whom he knew so well were withdrawn, and replaced by men of another stamp—men who were not all so clean-handed as their predecessors. He soon became aware that he was expected to grease their palms, and his uncompromising resistance to corruption in every shape and form made him disliked. Several contracts were given over his head; he found that in many cases the new-comer, Sowinski, of whose antecedents nothing was known, was favoured at his expense; and it was clear that these circumstances, together with the general Russian distrust of England and all things English, boded ill for his business. He was turned fifty years of age, and had amassed a comfortable fortune. It appeared the part of discretion to wind up his affairs before it was too late, and return to England, where a man of his wealth and energy might find occupation for his maturer years. When he had once made up his mind, Mr. Brown wasted no time. He proceeded to put his design into effect, and now expected in a few days to leave Moukden for home.

It was past midnight before he had finished sorting his papers. That done, he smoked a final cigarette at the door, then shot the bolt, turned out the lamp, and went to bed in the room next to Jack's.

Jack had found it somewhat difficult to get to sleep. He could not put Wang Shih's plight from his thoughts. He had seen something of Chinese methods; there came before his mind the vision of a poor wretch he had once met on his way to execution, emaciated to a skeleton, one of his legs blackened and withered, almost fleshless, and wanting its foot, which had dropped off as the result of his being chained by the ankle to a ring in his prison wall. Such evidence of inhumanity was horrible; it made him shudder to think of Wang Shih, so good a fellow, so fine a specimen of manhood, suffering and dying thus. And he admired the Chinaman's fortitude, his loyalty to his family, his refusal to avail himself of means of escape lest his people should suffer. Could not something even yet be done for him? Jack did not wish to complicate matters; but, after all, they were on the eve of departure, and he knew his father well enough to be sure that he would not refuse to lend a helping hand if required. But puzzle as he might, he could see no way of saving both Wang Shih and his family, and the problem was still unsolved when he at length fell into a troubled sleep.

Suddenly he awoke. The night was very close, and at the first moment he thought his waking was due to the heat. But then he heard a slight scratching at his left. He raised himself on his elbow to listen; he had never seen or heard mice in the house. The scratching continued; it was very close at hand. Surely at that time of night it could not be anyone scratching at the paper window? He got out of bed; it was too dark to see anything; he put his ear against the thin paper. The noise was certainly caused by the moving of a finger-nail.

"Who is there?" he asked softly in Chinese.

"Wang Shih, sir."

"Mr. Wang! You've escaped, then. All right! I'll come to the door."

On the way he went into his father's room, and touched him on the elbow.

"Hey! Who's that? What's the matter, Jack?"

"Wang Shih is outside, Father."

"By Jove! What does he want?"

"I don't know. He has evidently escaped."

"Send him about his business. I can't be mixed up in this sort of thing."

"You might see him, Father. He wouldn't have come unless he saw some way of getting off without harming anyone."

"Well, well! Light the lamp, and let him in. I'll slip on my dressing-gown and follow you."

Jack went to the door, opened it, and was confronted, not by one big form, as he expected, but by two.

"Who is with you, Mr. Wang?"

"Mr. Hu."

"Who is Mr. Hu? Come inside both of you, and let me lock the door."

The two Chinamen entered, blinking in the light of the little oil lamp Jack had lit.

"Now, Mr. Wang, explain. Who is Mr. Hu?"

"He is Hu Hang, the constable, sir."

"The constable!" exclaimed Jack, now recognizing the low brow and shifty eyes.

"Yes; I had to bring him."

"What's this, what's this?" said Mr. Brown, coming from his bedroom. "What you two piecee man makee this-side?"

Like almost all English merchants, he had found Chinese too much for him, and in his intercourse with the natives made use of pidgin English, the lingua franca of the Chinese coast.

There was a world of humility and apology in Wang Shih's kowtow.

"My lun wailo," he said. "My no wantchee catchee killum. Muchee bobbely yamen-side. Allo piecee fightey-man bimeby look-see Wang Shih; no can wailo outside that-time."

His exceptional size was certainly against him. It was clear that without some disguise the man could not hope to escape from the city.

"Yes, that's all very well," said Mr. Brown reflectively. Then turning suddenly to the second man: "But what this piecee man makee this-side?"

"He Hu Hang; muchee bad policeyman, galaw!"

"Policeyman! Yes, but what-for policeyman he come this-side too?"