The Mandarin's Fan Part 12

said he in his slangy fas.h.i.+on.

"My name to you, is Major Tidman," said the old fellow coolly.

"I guess I know that much. Can't we go a stretch along the lower part of the town?"

"If there's any row to come off," said the Major, keeping a wary eye on the young man. "I prefer it to take place here. On guard sir--on guard."

Clarence shrugged his shoulders and produced a cigarette. "Oh that's all right," said he striking a match. "I guess my old aunt's been at you.

I'm not going in for any row--not me."

"Just as well for you," said the Major sharply, "how dare you threaten me, you--you--"

"Now I ask you," said Clarence, "if I have threatened you? Go slow. I guess the old girl's been piling on the agony. She's got old Forge to fight her battles. When I make trouble," added Clarence musingly, "it will be for a pretty girl like Olivia."

"You can have your desire for a row by telling that to young Ainsleigh."

"Huh," said Burgh with contempt, "I guess I'd lay him out pretty smart.

I tell you, Major, I'm dead gone on that girl: but she treats me like a lump of mud."

"And quite right too," said Tidman coolly, "you aren't worthy of her.

Now Ainsleigh is."

Clarence pitched away his cigarette with an irritable gesture. "Don't get me riz," said he darkly, "or I'll make the hair fly with Ainsleigh."

"Pooh. He's quite able to look after himself."

"Can he shoot?" demanded the buccaneer.

"Yes. And use his fists, and fence, and lay you out properly. Confound you, sir, don't you think I've travelled also. I've been in the Naked Lands in my time, and have seen your sort growing on the banana plants.

You're the sort to get lynched."

"Oh, tie it up," said Burgh with sudden anger, for these remarks were not to his mind. "I want to tell you about the fan."

"Why do you want to talk of that?" asked Tidman with suspicion, "I don't care a straw for the fan."

"Oh, I reckon you do, Major. But you're well out of it. If you'd kept that fan there would have been trouble--yes, you may look, but if you'd held on to that article you'd have been a corpse by now."

Tidman sneered, not at all terrified by these vague threats. "What do you mean by this drivel?"

"Let's come to anchor here," said Clarence pulling up beside a seat in a secluded part, near the old town beach. "I'll spin the yarn."

"About the fan," said the Major sitting promptly. "I confess I am curious to know how it came to England again, after Forge took it again to the Far East. Didn't he give it to Lo-Keong?"

"So he says," said Clarence with a side-long look at his companion. "I don't know myself. All I know is, that I got it from a pirate."

"From a pirate?"

"That's so. I was in Chinese waters a year or so ago, and I reckon pirates swarm in those parts--"

Tidman s.h.i.+vered. "Yes," he admitted, "I had an adventure myself in Canton with a pirate of sorts."

"Old Forge told me something about it," said Clarence lighting a fresh cigarette, "but my yarn's different. I was out with some of the boys in Chinese water, and a pirate tried to board us. We were down Borneo way, looking out for a ruby mine said to be in those parts. My pals--there were two of them, and myself engineering the job--hired a boat and cut across to Borneo. The pirates tried to slit our throats and our Chinese crew tried to help them. But we used our Winchesters and six shooters freely, and shot a heap. The pirates cleared off and we brought our barky into port safe enough."

"But about the fan?"

"I'm coming to that. The Boss pirate was shot by me--a big six foot Northern Chinee, got up, to kill, like a tin G.o.d. He had this jade fan, and directed operations with it. When his pals cleared I found him as dead as a coffin and nailed the fan. It was pretty enough, but didn't appeal to me much. I clapped it away in my box, and when I reached England I offered it to Aunt Lavinia. She wants me to marry Miss Rayner, and said I should offer it to her, and cut out that aristocratic Ainsleigh chap. Olivia--ripping name, ain't it--well, she didn't catch on, so I thought I'd gain the goodwill of old Miss Wharf, and pa.s.sed it along to her."

The Major listened in silence to this story, which seemed reasonable enough. "Strange it should have come back to England, and to a small place like this, where Forge had it," he mused. "A coincidence I suppose. By the way did you see the advertis.e.m.e.nt?" he asked.

"You bet I did, and it made me sick to think I'd parted with the fan.

Leastways, it made me sick till I saw Hwei!"

"You mean Tung-yu."

"No, I don't. I mean the Chinee as calls himself Hwei, who put that advertis.e.m.e.nt in every newspaper in London, and the United Kingdom."

"What, in everyone?" said the Major, "must have cost----"

"A heap you bet, Major. Well I struck Hwei--"

"That's the name of a river, man."

"Maybe: but it's what this celestial calls himself. I struck him near the Mansion House, and knew him of old in Pekin I reckon, where we chin-chined over some contraband biznai. I spoke to him in Chinese--I know enough to get along on--and he told me he had come to this country about Lo-Keong's fan. I never said I'd got it, though by that time I'd seen the advertis.e.m.e.nt. I know Chinamen too well, to give myself away in that fas.h.i.+on. I pumped him, and learned that Hwei intended to scrag the chap who held the fan, so I concluded to lie low."

"But he offered wealth to whomsoever gave it up."

"Maybe. I don't know exactly how the thing figures out. I guess Hwei does the killing, and Tung-yu the rewarding. But you can take it from me, Major, that unless Miss Wharf gets rid of that fan she'll have her throat cut. So I guess, you must be glad you didn't handle the biznai,"

and Clarence puffed a serene cloud of smoke.

"It's more of a mystery than ever," said the Major. And so it was.

CHAPTER VII

THE WARNING

The idea that the end of the year would see him ruined and homeless was terrible to Rupert. Even if his home had been an ordinary house, he would have been anxious; but when he thought of the venerable mansion, of the few acres remaining, of the once vast Ainsleigh estates, of the ruins of the Abbey which he loved, his heart was wrung with anguish. How could he let these things depart from him, for ever? Yet he saw no way out of the matter, although he had frequent consultations with his lawyers. One day, shortly before the ball at the Bristol, he returned from town with a melancholy face. Old Petley ventured to follow his young master into the library, and found him with his face covered with his hands, in deep despair.

"Don't take on so, Master Rupert," said the old butler, gently, "things have not yet come to the worst."

"They are about as bad as they can be, John," replied Ainsleigh. "I have seen Mr. Thorp. It will take thirty thousand pounds to put matters right. And where am I to get it? Oh," the young man started up and walked to and fro, "why didn't I go into the law, or take to some profession where I might make money? Forge was my guardian, he should have seen to it."

"Master Rupert," said the old butler, "do you think that gentleman is your friend?"

"What makes you think he isn't, John?"