Chapter II: Part 2

"You are Mr. Brown's son? How do you do?" said the general suavely. "I am sorry for you. It is a bad business altogether. I should be quite justified in refusing to give you information, but I am, of course, willing to stretch a point in a case like this--father and son, you know. Well, I regret to say that I had to arrest your father for giving military information to the Japanese."

"But, sir, that is ridiculous. My father never did such a thing. He has had no connection, not even a business one, with the Japanese; he doesn't like them. Besides, he would never think of doing anything underhand. No one who knows him could even imagine it."

If Bekovitch felt the personal application, he did not show it.

"Very creditable, very creditable indeed. A loyal son; excellent. I should be the last to undeceive you; therefore we will say no more about it. Let me offer you a cigarette."

"No, thank you, sir. Really the matter cannot end thus. What evidence have you against my father?"

The general shrugged.

"Well, if you will---- We had our suspicions; your father is an Englishman, you know; we examined his papers and found proof of our suspicions--full, conclusive. There is no doubt at all about it."

"But you will allow my father to clear himself. I am sure he can do so."

"We have no time for long-winded processes," replied the general, throwing away the end of his cigarette and lighting another. "Moukden, as you must be aware, young man, is under martial law."

"Then what has become of my father, sir? Where is he?"

"We might have shot him, you know." The general's manner was suaver than ever. "But we are a merciful people. Your father has merely been--deported."

At this Jack felt that either there was a hole in the net woven around his father, or the Russians had feared to proceed to extremities owing to his British nationality.

"Well, sir," he said, "I shall, of course, appeal to our government."

"Certainly, my young friend, certainly! But on what ground? See, I recognize your anxiety; it is perfectly natural; for that reason I am patient with you. But we must be the judges as to who shall stay in Manchuria, who shall leave. Your father is now on his way to--to the frontier. You will follow without loss of time. I give you twelve hours to quit the city. A pass shall be made out for you; you will go by to-night's train to Harbin."

General Bekovitch's manner was as urbane and polite as ever, but there was in his tone a something that warned the boy that further protest would be useless. Still, he must make one more effort to discover his father's whereabouts.

"Has my father gone to Harbin?" he asked.

"I have told you, my young friend, he has been deported. I can tell you no more."

"But why not tell me his route, General Bekovitch? He was in any case leaving for England in a few days. If I am to go to Harbin I should like to know whether there is any possibility of overtaking my father and proceeding to Europe with him."

For answer the general summoned an attendant.

"Michel Sergeitch, show this young man out."

Jack gave him one look, then turned in silence towards the door.

"One moment," called the general after him. "As I said, a pass shall be sent you. The train leaves at eight. If you are found here to-morrow, you will be arrested and escorted as a prisoner to the frontier. That, I may remark, is an unpleasant mode of travelling. Remember, eight o'clock."

*CHAPTER IV*

*The Great Siberian Railway*

Duty and Inclination--A Domiciliary Visit--Monsieur Brin Protests--A Reminder--The Ombeloke--Quandary--Salvage--A Fortune in Soles--Fellow Passengers--From a Carriage Window--A Further Search--At the Sungari Bridge--Off the Line--The Compradore's Brother--Consultation--A Bargain--The Terms--The Last Load--In a Horse-box

Jack had rage in his heart as he walked back to the city. He was angry and indignant, but even more alarmed. The general had told him little: was that little the truth? What did he mean by "deported"? If Mr. Brown had really been put across the frontier, why should the general have refused to say by what route he had travelled? Jack feared that there had been foul play, and his anxiety was none the less because he could not imagine what form the foul play had taken.

His own position was awkward. He was homeless; in a few hours he was to be packed like a bundle of goods into a train and carried away against his will. His father might have preceded him to Europe; on the other hand, he might not. Was he to leave Moukden thus, in uncertainty as to his father's fate?

Thus perplexed and troubled in mind, he walked back to his house. At the door he found Monsieur Brin in a state of desperation at his inability to make head or tail of the compradore's pidgin English.

"Ha, my friend!" he exclaimed, "I am glad to see you; I must know the worst; I come in haste, but the Chinese man speaks a language of monkeys; I understand it not. Tell me what is arrived."

"I have seen General Bekovitch," replied Jack. "He told me almost nothing. My father has been deported--for betraying secrets to the Japanese, if you please! Did you ever hear of anything so ridiculous, so preposterous!"

"But that is all right. O.K. Deported! Mr. Brown is the happy man. It would please me to be deported also. He goes back to Europe: that I could accompany him!"

"But that is the point. Has he gone back to Europe? The general would not tell me. And he is packing me off too! I have to leave by to-night's train for Harbin, or he will put me under arrest."

"He! That is a scandal. I will expose it. I will write it all to my redacteur. Ah! But I ask myself, will the redacteur publish my letter? France is allied to Russia. A French publicist has to consider not solely his own persuasions, but his duty to his country. I reflect: it will be best actually to write nothing. But if, my friend, there needs money, demand me; I can furnish hundred, hundred and fifty roubles: it will be to me a pleasure."

"Many thanks, Monsieur! I do not think I shall need your assistance. I told the general I shall appeal to our government. Unluckily we have no consul here; the nearest, I suppose, is at Shanghai; and being sent off to Harbin, I don't know when I shall have an opportunity of communicating with our authorities."

"Truly, it is a difficult situation. And your goods here: what will they become?"

"They'll be confiscated, I suppose. As you see, I am locked out. Luckily we have nothing of any great value. My father sent off in advance all that he wished to keep, and they can't touch his account at the Hong-Kong and Shanghai bank."

He said nothing about the securities in Hi Lo's possession, not from any want of faith in the Frenchman's good-will, but not entirely trusting his discretion.

"They have no right to lock me out," continued Jack. "And as General Bekovitch said he'd send me a pass for the train, he must suppose he'll find me here. So if Mr. Hi will put his shoulder to the door, I think we'll force the lock and see what they have been doing."

The stalwart compradore made short work of the fastenings. Accompanied by Monsieur Brin and the Chinaman, Jack entered his father's house. There were manifest signs of ransacking. The floor of the office was strewn with papers; in the dining-room the drawers had been emptied; and a large oaken press, a fine specimen of Chinese cabinet-making on which Mr. Brown set much store, had been forced open. They were contemplating the dismal scene when Hi Lo came running in.

"Masta," he said hurriedly, "thlee fo' piecee Lusski walkee chop-chop this-side."

A few moments later the house was entered by four Siberian infantrymen, headed by a lieutenant and accompanied by a tall, fair, hook-nosed man, at the sight of whom Jack started. A light flashed upon him. Anton Sowinski was the Russian Pole who had been doing his best to ruin Mr. Brown's business, and had so bitterly resented Mr. Brown's successes. It was he, too, who had instigated the charge trumped up against Wang Shih in revenge for a business defeat. Was it unlikely that Sowinski had been the agent in this other trumped-up charge of espionage? If not, what was his business now?

"I have come," said the lieutenant, "to bring you the pass promised by General Bekovitch. Here it is."

He drew a large unsealed envelope from his pocket, and took from it a paper which he proceeded to read. It stipulated that Mr. John Brown, junior, was to leave Moukden by the train for Harbin at 8 p.m., en route for Europe. Replacing it in the envelope, the officer laid this upon the table and said:

"I regret, Monsieur, that I have a disagreeable duty to perform. I am ordered to search the house and everybody in it. Mr. Brown is known to have been in possession of certain vouchers which are now forfeit to my government. They could not be found when he was arrested; the conclusion is that they are in your possession. I must ask you to turn out your pockets."

"I have no papers," said Jack, "and I protest."

"I am sorry. I have my orders to carry out. Resistance is useless."

"Oh! I shall not resist. Search away."

The lieutenant had already posted a soldier at the back entrance, and had sent another man to bring into the room anyone whom he might find on the premises. As Jack was being searched, Hi Lo was brought in; he had slipped away when the Russians entered. Jack hoped that the boy had had time to hide the papers, for though the amount they represented was small in comparison with his father's total fortune, it was yet considerable in itself, and he was anxious to save it, not merely for its own sake, but because without it he would have no means of carrying through a plan he had already dimly determined on. Hi Lo's face was void of all expression. There were now in the room, besides the Russians, Jack himself, Monsieur Brin, the compradore, and his son. The door was locked.

Jack was searched from top to toe. Nothing was found on him save letters of no importance. The compradore and Hi Lo were examined in turn; they submitted meekly, and Jack almost betrayed his relief when he saw that the papers had not been discovered on the boy. Then the officer turned to Monsieur Brin, glancing at the red band on his arm.

"But I am a Frenchman," exclaimed the angry correspondent. "Why do you search me? I have nothing. I know nothing."

"I find you in Mr. Brown's house. I have orders to search everybody. I hope you will make no difficulty, Monsieur."

"Difficulty! It is you that make difficulty. It is an insult, an indignity. I am an ally; peste! for what good to be an ally if I am thus treated as an enemy! But I do not resist; no, I resign myself. From no one but an ally would I endure such an indignity."

"I am exceedingly sorry, Monsieur. General Bekovitch, in giving orders, of course did not contemplate for a moment the case of a French correspondent being present; but my instructions are positive. I have no choice but to carry them out."

"Well, I protest still once more. I will make the French nation know the price they pay for this so agreeable alliance."

Monsieur Brin was searched. No papers were found on him except his pocket-book, a lady's photograph, and several letters, which the officer glanced through, the Frenchman fuming with impatience and indignation. At the conclusion of the search the lieutenant threw a meaning glance at Sowinski, whose attitude throughout had convinced Jack of the correctness of his surmise. The Pole's presence was in itself a sufficient proof of his personal interest in Mr. Brown's fate. An hour was spent in making a further examination of the scattered papers; nothing incriminating being found, the lieutenant gave his men the order to march. At the last moment he glanced at the envelope on the table.

"Take care of it, Monsieur," he said; "it would be awkward for you if it were lost."

When the party had gone, Monsieur Brin fairly exploded with wrath. English was too slow for him; a rapid torrent of French came from his quivering lips. But Jack's attention was diverted from the Frenchman by the strange antics of Hi Lo, who was dancing round his father, his face beaming with delight.

"You hid the papers?" said Jack. "You are a good boy. Where are they?"

The boy pointed to the envelope on the table.

"What do you mean?"

"Masta, look-see. Masta, look-see."

Jack lifted the envelope. The boy's glee puzzled him. Opening it, he took out the Russian pass, and with it half a dozen thin slips of paper written upon in Russian and French. He could hardly believe his eyes. They were the very papers for which the officer had sought so diligently but in vain.

"How is this? What does it mean?" he said in blank amazement.

"Hai-yah! Velly bad Lusski man look-see Masta; allo piecee bad man look-see all-same; no can tinkee Hi Lo plenty smart inside. Hai-yah! Allo piecee Lusski man look-see that-side; my belongey this-side, makee no bobbely; cleep-cleep 'long-side table; my hab papers allo lightee: ch'hoy! he belong-ey chop-chop inside ombeloke; Lusski no savvy nuffin 'bout nuffin, galaw!"

Jack burst into a roar of laughter, and translated the boy's pidgin to the bewildered Frenchman. While the Russians were intent on searching Jack, and their backs were towards Hi Lo, the boy, knowing that his turn must come, seized the opportunity to slip the precious papers into the unclosed envelope on the table. Monsieur Brin flung up his hands and began to pirouette, then stopped to laugh, and held his shaking sides.

"Hi! hi! admirable! Excellentissime! Bravo! bravo! Ma foi! Comme il est adroit! Comme il est spirituel! Ho! ho! Tiens! Le gars merite une forte recompense. Voila!"

In his excess of enthusiasm he took a silver dollar from his pocket, spun it, and handed it to Hi Lo. The boy was sober in an instant. He gravely handed the coin back.

"No wantchee Fa-lan-sai man he dollar," he said.

Brin looked to Jack for an explanation.

"He is much obliged, but would rather not. You made a little mistake, Monsieur. You can't offend a Chinaman of this sort more than by offering him money. He is, indeed, a clever little chap. I'll take care he doesn't go unrewarded."

"Ha! That is another point for my chapter on the characteristics of the Chinese. But now, my friend, what will you do?"

"Really, Monsieur, I don't know. I must talk it over with the compradore."

"Very well then, I leave you. I go to write notes of this most interesting episode. I begin to enjoy war correspondence. You go at eight? I will be at the station to say adieu."

Jack spent more than an hour in serious consultation with Hi An, the compradore, a man of forty, who had served his father for nearly twenty years, and was heart and soul devoted to his interests. There was no question but that Jack must leave Moukden that night, and Hi An advised him to go straight to Moscow and take the first opportunity of communicating with the British Foreign Office. Meanwhile the compradore himself would do what he could to trace the whereabouts of his master. But this course Jack was very unwilling to adopt. In the first place, he had his father's instructions to realize the securities, so cleverly saved by Hi Lo. Then there was the consignment of flour which he hoped might run the Japanese blockade and come safe to harbour at Vladivostok. If it should arrive it would be worth a large sum of money, and Jack was not disposed to yield that a spoil to the Russians. Last and most important consideration, he was oppressed by the mystery of his father's fate. With the likelihood of innumerable delays on the congested railway, he might be three weeks or a month reaching Moscow; he foresaw difficulties in inducing the Foreign Office to move in a case where there was so little to go upon; and, above all, it was unendurable to think that his father might, for all he knew, be still near at hand, in danger and distress.

He was already determined, then, that, leave Moukden if he must, he would not leave Manchuria. But what could he do to secure his objects and his own safety? He wondered whether the news of his father's arrest had been telegraphed to Harbin and Vladivostok. That was unlikely, he thought, for two reasons. It was well known that Mr. Brown had been winding up his business; the Russian authorities, unless specially informed, would not suppose that there was any plunder to be got apart from what was found at Moukden. And the telegraph had been for months past very much overworked, what with the heavy railway traffic and the constant messages flashing to and fro between the principal depots in Manchuria and between Manchuria and St. Petersburg. It was therefore unlikely that the enforced departure of a Moukden merchant would be considered of sufficient importance to communicate. If this reasoning was correct, and Jack could contrive to reach Vladivostok before the news filtered through, he might save the remnants of his father's property, and turn the vouchers into negotiable securities. He would then find himself in possession of considerable funds, which he might use if necessary in tracking his father.

The first thing was to get to Vladivostok. The pass stipulated that he should go through Harbin over the Siberian railway to Moscow. To reach Vladivostok he must change trains at Harbin, and by that very fact become a fugitive and an outlaw. Apparently General Bekovitch did not intend to send him north under an escort; it probably never occurred to him that with his father deported, his home broken up, Jack would make an effort, in face of the definite order to quit the country, to remain. But though no escort was provided, he would undoubtedly be watched; and to slip away at Harbin in a direction the opposite of that intended promised to be a matter of considerable difficulty and danger.

The compradore shook his head when Jack explained what he had in his mind. Then, finding that his young master was determined, he did not attempt to dissuade him, but set himself in earnest to talk over ways and means. He had a brother in Harbin, a grain merchant, who had dealings with the Russians. This man might be able to give Jack information and assistance, and to him the compradore wrote a short note of introduction. The next thing was to provide for the safety of the Russian vouchers. Jack might be searched again _en route_, and it was therefore inadvisable to carry them in his pocket. He pondered for a time without finding any solution of the difficulty. He was sitting with crossed legs, his hands clasping his knee, his eyes cast down. Studying the heavy thick-soled boot he wore in summer, under stress of Manchurian mud, he suddenly bethought himself.

"You can turn your hand to most things, Mr. Hi; do you think you could split the sole of one of my boots and put it together again?"

"Of course, sir."

"That's the very thing, then. No one would ever think of taking my boot to pieces."

Hi An very quickly and deftly performed the necessary operation. Between the two parts of the split sole Jack placed the vouchers and letter of introduction; then the compradore neatly stuck them together again. He produced a roll of rouble notes, enough to pay preliminary expenses and leave a margin for emergencies.

"There, Master," he said. "I have done all I can."

"You're a good fellow. I must trust to the chapter of accidents for the rest. I may never see you again, Mr. Hi. If I come to grief, you will do what you can to find my father?"

"I will, Master, if I have to trudge on foot all the way to Pekin to ask help of the Son of Heaven himself."

Some minutes before eight o'clock Jack, by virtue of his pass, was admitted without a ticket to the platform at which the train for Harbin was drawn up. He had been compelled to take his farewell of Monsieur Brin, the compradore, and Hi Lo outside, much to the Frenchman's indignation. The line was very badly managed; the officials were soldiers, with no technical acquaintance with railway management. Trains were despatched from Moukden to Harbin, and from Harbin to Moukden, at any time that suited the officials at either end, without prearrangement, sometimes even without communication between the stations. On this particular train there was no distinction of classes, and Jack found himself one of some forty passengers packed into a carriage built for thirty. The company was exceedingly mixed. Russian officers were cheek by jowl with Chinese merchants; a huge long-bearded Russian pope was wedged between a German commercial traveller and a Sister with the red cross on her arm; at one end was a group of chattering Greek camp-followers, who brought out a filthy pack of cards long before the train started, and began a game of makao, which continued, with intervals for squabbling and refreshment, all the way to Harbin. Jack made himself as comfortable as he could in a corner, and prepared to sleep if the close proximity of his fellow-passengers and the stuffiness of the air allowed.

It was past nine o'clock before the train steamed out. Punctuality is a virtue non-existent on the Siberian railway. The journey taxed Jack's patience to the utmost. The line is single, doubled at intervals of five versts to allow of the passage of trains in opposite directions. The train was constantly being shunted into sidings, remaining sometimes for hours, no one could tell why; and one of the most annoying features of the constant stoppages was that the train, after running through a station where the passengers would have been glad to obtain refreshments, would come to a stand several versts beyond, where they had nothing to do but kick their heels and look disconsolately out on the country. On one of the sidings stood a goods train, two trucks of which were loaded with a large gun; it had no doubt been injured by a Japanese shell, and was being returned to arsenal for repair. In another train Jack noticed a truck crowded with poor wretches who appeared to be chained together--misdemeanants from the army, he surmised, on their way to one of the penal settlements in Siberia. At short intervals appeared the little brick huts of the soldiers guarding the line, and occasionally a group of three or four of those green-coated guards might be seen riding along at the foot of the embankment on their stout Mongol ponies.

Jack had travelled many times along the line, but not recently, and he was greatly interested in the amazing developments which it had undergone. New buildings of brick seemed to have sprung up like mushrooms along its course. Where formerly had been spacious fields of kowliang--the long-stalked millet of the country--with Chinese fangtzes few and far between, there were now wide bare stretches upon which Russian industry was erecting storehouses, engine-sheds, tile-covered residences for the officials. Some thirty-five miles from Moukden is Tieling, which, when Jack's train passed through at three o'clock in the morning--having taken just six hours to run that distance--seemed to be nothing but a collection of scaffolding, with Chinese bricklayers already at work, trowel in hand. Between Tieling and Harbin stretches an immense plain, fertile for the most part, and hitherto left almost unspoiled. Nowhere does the line pass through a Chinese village; these were purposely avoided by the Russian engineers from motives of policy, and in deference to native susceptibilities. They are for the most part out of sight from the railway. All that can be seen is, on the right, the broad rutty mandarin highway; on the left, a narrower road edging interminable fields of kowliang. There are few stations between Moukden and Harbin: at two, Tieling and Kai-chuang, the Russians had established their base hospitals.

Hour after hour passed. Jack whiled away a good part of the time by whittling sticks with his penknife, somewhat to the amusement of the Russian army doctor who sat next to him, and who did not appear to notice that the sticks were shaped to a definite size, and that, after several had been thrown away, two or three were placed in Jack's pocket. Many times the train was halted at a doubling to allow a troop train to pass, filled with Russian soldiers on the way to the front, shouting, singing, in the highest spirits. At one point an empty Red Cross train stood on a siding, having emptied its freight of wounded men at one of the hospitals.

During one of the stoppages the belaced official who acted as guard politely requested Jack to step into the station-master's office, where he was searched by one of the soldiers. He was thus left in no doubt that he was under surveillance, and when he got back to his carriage he found that his bag had been opened. He congratulated himself on his forethought in concealing his papers so effectually in his boot.

At the moment of saying good-bye the compradore had given him a piece of news that made him anxious to complete his journey. A Chinese employed at the station had told him that Anton Sowinski had booked a seat by the next day's train. It was by no means impossible that this train, if it happened to carry any important passengers, would overtake and pass the first somewhere on the line. The Pole was likely to spread the news of Mr. Brown's arrest, and if he should succeed in getting to Vladivostok before Jack the game would certainly be up.

At length, about forty-five hours after leaving Moukden, someone said that Harbin was in sight, and there was instantly a movement and bustle among the passengers.

"Keep your seat," said the doctor to Jack with a smile.

"Thanks! I know," said Jack with an answering smile.

The train slowed down, then stopped at the southern end of the bridge over the Sungari river. It was as though the engine were parleying with the sentry. On the right rose the barracks of the frontier guards, surrounded by a loopholed wall. At the bridge end were two guns framed in sand-bags, and watched by two sentinels. Across the river, above and below the bridge, an immense boom prevented traffic either up or down. While the train halted, an official came along the carriages, fastened all the windows, locked all the doors; to open them before the bridge was crossed entailed a heavy penalty. When all the passengers were thus secured, and there was no chance of any Japanese spy throwing a bomb on to the bridge, the train moved slowly on, passed more guns at the farther end, and came to rest at the spacious station in the Russian quarter of the town.

A train from Vladivostok was expected during the afternoon, and the composite train would leave for the west at nine o'clock. Jack went out with the majority of the passengers into the buffet, which is one of the admirable features of the Russian railway system, and ordered a good meal. Then he looked over some illustrated papers, making no attempt to leave the station, having noticed that he was still watched by one of the train attendants. Time hung heavily; he took a nap on one of the seats, and when he awoke found that the Vladivostok train had arrived, and the night train for the west was being made up. Strolling out with his bag, he showed his pass to an official, and by means of a liberal tip secured a sleeping compartment to himself. He explained with many yawns that, being tired out, he intended to turn in as soon as the train started, and asked the man to arrange his bed and lock him in. The attendant complied, and a few minutes later Jack noticed him in conversation with the man under whose watchful eyes he had been all day. The latter appeared satisfied and went away.

The train was late in starting; a high personage, it seemed, was expected. Jack stood for some minutes at the door, watching the varied crowd on the platform Suddenly he heard cheers; the high personage had no doubt arrived. A warning bell rang; the officials called to the passengers to take their seats. Jack took off his coat in full view from the platform, then drew the curtain, opened his bag, and took from it, not a night costume, but a brush, a comb, and a collar. Then he turned off the light.

But instead of throwing himself on his bed, he went to the opposite door of the compartment and tried it; as he expected, it was locked. He put on his coat, crammed into the pockets the articles he had taken from his bag, and from his vest pocket took one of the sticks he had been whittling on the way from Moukden. Leaning out of the window, he inserted it in the lock. The train was just beginning to move. Would this extemporized key serve? He turned it; the lock clicked; and the next moment he was on the foot-board. Silently closing the door he dropped to the ground, and ran alongside the moving train, stumbling and tripping over the rugged ballast. The pace quickened and the train began to distance him; but he made all the speed he could, and by the time the last carriage had passed him he found, to his relief, that he was beyond the station and in darkness. Dodging behind an engine-shed he clambered over a fence, left the railway, and set off to find the house of the compradore's brother.

He had taken the precaution, before starting, to obtain very explicit directions, in order to save time, and to avoid the risk involved in asking questions. The Chinese part of the town is some three miles from the station, on lower ground near the river. The streets were abominably filthy; and by the time Jack reached the priestan or merchants' quarters he felt sadly in need of a bath. By following the compradore's instructions he found the grain store of which he was in search, though with some trouble. All the business premises in the neighbourhood were closed for the night; there were few people in the streets: the Chinaman as a rule barricades himself in his house at nightfall. Making sure by peering at the sign that he had come to the right house, Jack gently knocked at the door. It was opened by a Chinaman, whom Jack recognized by the light of the oil-lamp he carried as the compradore's brother.

"I am from Moukden, Mr. Hi," said Jack, "and have a note from your brother Mr. Hi An."

"Come in," said the Chinaman at once, without any indication of surprise. Jack pulled off his dirty boots and followed him to a little back shop, where he had evidently just been engaged in brewing tea. He asked Jack to sit down, poured him out a dish of tea, and then waited with oriental patience to hear what his visitor had to say. Prising open the sole of one of his boots, Jack drew out the compradore's note. It bore only three Chinese characters, and said merely that Hi An wished his brother to give all possible assistance to the bearer. The Chinaman looked up with an expression of grave polite curiosity and still waited.

The compradore having said that his brother could be thoroughly trusted, Jack explained to him, as simply and clearly as he could, the circumstances that had brought him to Harbin, and the object of his visit. When the Chinaman had heard the story, and learnt what was expected of him, he looked somewhat scared. He said that the Russians would inflict the most terrible punishments upon him if they discovered that he had sheltered and assisted a fugitive. He spoke of his terror of the Russian knout. But the Englishman might command him to do what he could. Had he not himself received benefits from Mr. Brown? Five years ago, he said, when he was on the verge of ruin, he had written to his brother the compradore for assistance. Hi An, a born gambler, like every Chinaman, had himself been speculating disastrously, and was unable to give any help. But he had appealed to Mr. Brown, who had at once advanced the sum required and set the grain merchant on his feet again. The loan had long since been repaid: in business transactions the Chinaman is the soul of honour: but he had never lost his feeling of gratitude; and his recollection of Mr. Brown's kindness, together with his brother's request, made him willing to run some risk on behalf of his benefactor's son.

Jack talked long over the situation with his host. His object was to get to Vladivostok as soon as possible. Having no pass he could not travel openly, and when breakfast-time came next morning his absence from the Moscow train would be discovered, even if it were not found out before; the news would be telegraphed to Harbin, and there would instantly be a hue and cry. The Chinaman doubted whether this would be the case; the train officials would be too anxious to screen their own negligence. Still, it would be unsafe for Jack to remain in Harbin; as for himself, he saw no way of helping him.

"I must go by train," said Jack, "and secretly. Could I go hidden in a goods wagon?"

"That might be possible," said the Chinaman; "but goods trains are not fast; they are often delayed for hours and even days. The journey would take a week, and though you might carry food with you, you would have to leave your hiding-place for water, and you could not escape discovery."

"Still, it may be that or nothing. Have you yourself any goods going in that direction?"

"No. My business is chiefly to supply fodder to the Russians, more especially for horses that are being sent south. I completed a large contract yesterday. One thing I can do. I can go to the station in the morning and learn what trains are expected to leave for Vladivostok. That is the first step. You will remain concealed in my house. You were not seen as you entered?"

"No. The street was clear."

"Then nobody but my wife and myself need know that you are here. I will do what I can for you."

"Thank you! And if it is a question of bribery, you need not be niggardly."

The Chinaman smiled. He had not had dealings with Russian officials for nothing.

Jack was provided with a couch for the night, and, being very tired after his long journey and the excitement of his escape, he soon fell asleep. About five o'clock he was awakened by the Chinaman's hurried entrance.

"It is all arranged, sir," he said, "but at a terrible price. A train conveying horses is to leave for Vladivostok at seven. The sergeant in charge is well known to me: I have had dealings with him. All Russians can be bribed; but this man--sir, he is an extortioner. Still, after what you said, I made the bargain with him. You give him at once twenty roubles; you arrive safely at Vladivostok and give him thirty roubles more. I tried to make him accept twenty-five for the second sum, but he refused."

Jack could not help smiling at this naive evidence of the oriental habit of bargaining. He felt that if he reached Vladivostok for fifty roubles he would have got off remarkably well.

"But how is it to be managed?" he asked.

"I gave him to understand, sir, that you are a foreign correspondent wishing to see Vladivostok, and that there is a delay in the forwarding of the necessary authorization. It was because you are a foreigner that the sergeant was so firm about the five roubles. He talked about the risk he ran, and said that you must leave the train some time before it arrives at Vladivostok and walk the rest of the way. He said, too, that if you should be discovered you were not to admit that he had any knowledge of your presence. I promised that you would do all this."

"Very well. I am exceedingly obliged to you. But how am I to go? What will the sergeant do for twenty roubles?"

"He will give you a corner in a horse-box."

"Does the train consist of nothing but horse-boxes?"

"Horse-boxes and the sergeant's van. You cannot go in that."

"No. And how am I to get into the horse-box without being seen? There are sure to be soldiers and officials about."

The Chinaman rubbed his hands slowly and pondered.

"If it had been yesterday," he said, "you might then have gone hidden in a hay-cart. But my last loads were delivered yesterday."

"Who knows that?"

"The inspector of forage; perhaps others."

"And is the inspector likely to be at the station this morning?"

"Not so early as seven; he is too fond of his bed for that."

"Where is the train standing?"

"On a siding at some little distance from the station. You can drive straight up to it from the road through the goods entrance. But there is a sentry at the gate."

"Well, Mr. Hi, I think I see a way to dodge the sentry, with your kind assistance. I suppose you have some hay or straw in your store?"

"Certainly."

"Then if you will load up a wagon with several large bundles, and leave a hole for me in the middle, I think I can get to my place in the horse-box."

"But you might be seen as you slip out."

"We can lessen the risk of that. You can drive the wagon up to the horse-box as though bringing a final load that had been overlooked. I am covered by the bundles. You move them in such a way that the sides of the cart are well screened, at the same time leaving a passage for me. I ought to be able to slip into the box without being observed. And if you are willing I will chance it."

The Chinaman agreed, and as the time was drawing near, and the earlier the plan was carried out the better, he went off to get his wagon loaded. Shortly after six the cumbrous vehicle was brought up as close as possible to a door giving into the yard of the store. Jack thanked Mr. Hi very warmly for his services, and begged him, if he should by any chance learn of Mr. Brown's whereabouts, to communicate with his brother in Moukden. Choosing a moment when nobody but the Chinaman and his wife was near, Jack slipped into the wagon, and was in a few moments effectually concealed by the bundles of hay. He found in the bottom of the cart a supply of food and a large water-bottle thoughtfully provided by his obliging host.

Mr. Hi himself mounted to the bare board behind his oxen, grasped the rope reins in one hand and the long-thonged whip in the other, and drove off. Jack did not enjoy the drive, jolted over the vile roads, and half-choked by the full-scented hay. The wagon came to the gate of the goods entrance, and the Chinaman was challenged by the sentry. He pulled up, and with much deference explained that he had brought a last load of hay for the horses about to leave for Vladivostok, pointing at the same time to the long line of horse-boxes standing on the siding, about three hundred yards away. The sentry jerked his rifle over his shoulder and said nothing. Taking his silence for consent, the Chinaman lashed his oxen, and the wagon rumbled over the bumpy ground and two or three lines of metals until it reached the last carriage but one, next to the brake-van. The Chinaman jumped to the ground, backed the wagon against the door, and began to arrange his bundles as Jack had suggested. He whispered to Jack that nobody was near; and next moment a form much the colour of hay crept on all-fours out of the wagon into the van. Then Mr. Hi built up the hay with what was already in the vehicle, so as to conceal him and yet allow a little air-space near one of the small windows. There were three horses in the van. Though early morning, it was already close and stuffy, and Jack looked forward with anything but pleasure to the heat of mid-day and the prospect of many hours in this equine society.

*CHAPTER V*

*A Deal in Flour*

Vladivostok--Orloff--Russian Resentment--Large Profits--Quick Returns--Overreached--A Droshky Race--The Waverley--Captain Fraser--Sowinski comes Aboard--Sea Law--Pourboire

It was two o'clock in the morning on the second day after Jack left Harbin. The train slowed down as it rounded a loop, and finally came to a stop. Jack was fast asleep in his corner of the horse-box. He was awakened by a touch on the shoulder.

"You get down here, sir."

"Ah! Where are we, sergeant?"

"Four versts from Vladivostok."

"That's well. And what sort of a night?"

"Fine, sir; but dark as pitch."

"Thanks! Let me see; is it twenty-five roubles I owe you?"

"Thirty, sir, no less; more if you like."

"Here you are. Have you got a match? Take care: a spark, you know! Count them; three ten-rouble notes. Now, how am I to get into the town?"

"The road's not far on the other side of the line.--Nobody is to know how you got here, sir."

"I understand that. Many thanks! It has been a pretty rapid journey for Manchuria, I think."

"Yes. Live stock comes next to the Viceroy. Horses are none the better for being jolted over three hundred miles of rail, so they've let us pass several goods trains on the way."

"Any passenger trains allowed to pass us?"

"Not one."

"Then I couldn't have got here sooner. Thanks again!"

Jack dropped from the foot-board, ran down the embankment, and in a few minutes struck the high-road. He had not thought it necessary to explain to the sergeant that he knew the district. It was, as the Russian had said, very dark, but Jack made his way to a plantation near the road, through which he knew that a little stream ran. There he had a thorough wash, changed his collar, brushed and shook his clothes, and felt a different creature. Then he sat down on the moss-grown roots of an oak, and ate the Chinese cakes and dried fruit that remained from the stock of food given him by Hi Feng, the compradore's brother, washing it down with water from the brook. Dawn was breaking by the time he had finished his frugal breakfast, but it was useless to go into the town until the business houses opened. He therefore determined to remain in the secluded nook he had chosen, and sat there thinking of what lay before him.

About eight o'clock he rose to continue his walk to the town. It was two years since he had last visited it, and he was struck by the progress it had made in the interval. Founded only forty years before, the city had grown very rapidly; but since the Russian occupation of Manchuria it had made giant strides. New hospitals and barracks had been erected; the surrounding hills, once decked with forest, but now treeless, were covered with immense forts and earthworks, at which vast gangs of coolies were still at work. The wooden shanties that formerly lined the shore had for the most part given place to more solid and imposing structures of brick and stone. Other signs of development caught Jack's eye as he walked towards the harbour; but he was too eager to complete his errand to dwell upon them, especially as he heard behind him in the distance the rumble of an approaching train. It overtook him just as he turned down one of the steep, narrow side streets leading to the office of his father's agent; and as he saw the long line of carriages, including several sleeping-cars, roll past, he could not but wonder whether Anton Sowinski was among the passengers, and hastened his steps.

The office had just been opened for the day when he arrived. Alexey Petrovitch Orloff was a big, jovial Russian of some forty years; honest, or Mr. Brown would have had no dealings with him; a little greedy; a good business man, and on excellent terms with his principal. But Jack knew little about him outside their business transactions, and had made up his mind not to trust him with his secret.

"Ah, Ivan Ivanovitch!" exclaimed Orloff as Jack entered. "I was expecting you or your father. You came by the night train?"

"Yes. You must have been asleep when it arrived."

"What sort of a journey had you?"

"It was very hot."

"Yes, we have been baked here. When did you leave?"

"On Thursday."

"A fairly quick journey, considering the state of the line. You left before my letter arrived?"

"Yes. Of course you guess the object of my visit?"

"The consignment of flour? You have had great luck, I must say; but Captain Fraser always is lucky. Of course his cargo was not contraband according to English ideas, but we Russians have been rather strict of late, and the Japanese will probably follow suit. However, Captain Fraser never saw a Japanese cruiser the whole voyage. It should be an excellent speculation for your father. Prices are naturally high just now."

"That is good news. We shouldn't like to wind up with a failure."

"Of course not. It is a pity your father is retiring; we are bound to win in the end; but I've no doubt he can well afford it. And I'm not the man to complain, if, as I hope, I can get hold of a part of his business. Perhaps he is wise after all. Manchuria is not the most comfortable country to live in--just now, at any rate; and I fancy an Englishman will have a poor time of it in Moukden, eh?" (He gave Jack a shrewd look.) "Your newspapers have so completely taken the side of the enemy."

"Yes, there is a strong feeling at home in favour of Japan, and your people resent it. That's natural enough."

"It's rather worse than that. People here are saying that Russia and England will be at war before a month's out."

"Nonsense!"

"They say so. Our cruisers have stopped a P. and O. liner, the _Malacca_, in the Mediterranean, and put a prize crew on board. She was carrying contraband, it appears; but your fire-eaters--jingoes, is that the name?--are thirsting for our blood."

"We don't all eat fire and drink blood, Alexey Petrovitch."

"True. And you English will find you have backed the wrong horse."

"You haven't been much troubled here, then?"

"No. The bombardment did us no harm. Our cruisers sank three Japanese transports the other day, and they captured another of your ships with contraband, the _Allanton_: you'll see her lying in the harbour now."

"Well, it appears to be lucky for us that the _Waverley_ was, in a sense, on your side. About this consignment of flour: do you think you can find an immediate purchaser? We want to realize and get away at once."

The Russian's eyes gleamed, but his reply was cautious.

"Well, Ivan Ivanovitch, it is always more difficult to sell in a hurry than if you can wait. A good profit can be made, but we must take our time. It is a matter of bargaining. The man in a hurry always suffers."

"Yes, I know. We must be prepared to sacrifice something. At the market rate the flour ought to fetch about 27,000 roubles; but look here, if you can find an immediate purchaser at 25,000 I'll let it go."

Orloff still hesitated, but Jack could see that he was making an effort to restrain his eagerness.

"In business," he said, "it is best to be frank. If you will give me my usual commission of two and a half per cent--what do you say to my taking over the stuff myself?"

Jack smiled.

"I say that it pays very well to be principal and agent at the same time. But we won't quarrel about the commission. If you'll write me a cheque for 24,375 roubles, we'll call the matter settled. I've full authority to act."

The Russian, looking as if he was sorry he had not improved the opportunity still further, sat down at once and made out the cheque, adding:

"There will be one or two papers to sign. I will get them from the dockyard people."

"Very well. In the meantime I'll pay this into the bank and call back as soon as I can."

"What is the hurry? Business is slack, and I suppose I shan't see you again for a long time."

"Probably not. But there's a ring at your telephone. Evidently someone wants to do business. I'll see you again shortly."

Orloff was disposed to be talkative, but Jack was on thorns lest the train he had seen come in should have brought Sowinski. He had the cheque; while in the train he had taken the vouchers from the sole of his boot; he wondered whether he could complete his business at the bank before Sowinski, supposing him to be in Vladivostok, should come upon the scene. He hurried to the branch of the Russo-Chinese bank, where he was well known to the officials. Business there also was slack; the manager said indeed that trade in Vladivostok would be ruined if the war continued much longer. Within half an hour, Jack left the building with bills on Baring Brothers for the amount of the cheque and the sum represented by the vouchers, less 2000 roubles in notes which he kept for his immediate and contingent expenses.

He hurried back to Orloff's office, keeping a wary eye on the people thronging the streets, among them many soldiers in the _pashalik_, their characteristic peaked cap. When he entered the room, Orloff flung down his pen and gave a shout of merriment.

"I must tell you the joke, Ivan Ivanovitch. Not five minutes after you left, who should come in but Sowinski!" Jack repressed a start. "He had happened to hear, he told me, that the _Waverley_ had arrived with a consignment of flour for your father. Was I empowered to sell? Ha! ha! It was not a matter of much consequence, he said. Ha! ha! I know Sowinski. But, having a small contract to fulfil in a month's time at Harbin, he could do with the flour, if it was to be had cheap. 'Mr. Brown is leaving the country, I understand,' says he. Ha! ha!"

Sowinski had evidently not told Orloff of the arrest. Jack wondered for a moment why. But the explanation at once suggested itself. If the fact were known, the consignment would no doubt be impounded by the Russian authorities in Vladivostok, and then the Pole would lose his chance of making a profitable deal.

"I assure you I was not eager," continued Orloff, still laughing. "Sowinski is no friend of mine. In the end he went down to the harbour, inspected the consignment, and bought it for 27,000 roubles, the market price, as you yourself mentioned."

"Quick returns and by no means small profits," said Jack.

"Yes. But--ha! ha!--what makes me laugh is something else. I was rung up at the telephone--just as you went, you remember; two vessels had been signalled from the mouth of the harbour carrying flour--not a moderate consignment like yours, but a whole cargo each. You see, Ivan Ivanovitch? The market price of Sowinski's lot will fall in an hour to 20,000 roubles, and it serves him right. How your father will laugh when he learns how his rival has overreached himself! By the way, the _Waverley_ is sailing this morning, in ballast of course."

"Indeed!" No information could have pleased Jack more. "Captain Fraser is an old friend of ours. I should like to see him."

"Then you haven't much time to lose. But you may as well sign these papers to complete our little transaction--the last, I am sorry to say. You will be back again?"

"I am not sure. I am not staying in Vladivostok long, and I'll say good-bye in case I don't get time to run in again."

"And when do you leave for home?"

"As soon as possible."

"By the Trans-Siberian, I suppose?"

"Probably; unless we can get through the lines to Newchang."