“I don’t see that it matters a toss,” cried the exuberant Ainslie. “Mr. Mauser and Mr. Maxim are the two men who will see us through, and with them on our side no leader can go wrong. I tell you they will just brush them aside and walk through them. So now, Professor, come on with that pot of caviare!”
But the old scientist was unconvinced.
“We shall reserve it for supper,” said he.
“After all,” said Mr. Patterson, in his slow, precise Scottish intonation, “it will be a courtesy to our guests—the officers of the relief—if we have some palatable food to lay before them. I’m in agreement with the Professor that we reserve the caviare for supper.”
The argument appealed to their sense of hospitality. There was something pleasantly chivalrous, too, in the idea of keeping their one little delicacy to give a savour to the meal of their preservers. There was no more talk of the caviare.
“By the way, Professor,” said Mr. Patterson, “I’ve only heard to-day that this is the second time that you have been besieged in this way. I’m sure we should all be very interested to hear some details of your previous experience.”
The old man’s face set very grimly.
“I was in Sung-tong, in South China, in ’eighty-nine,” said he.
“It’s a very extraordinary coincidence that you should twice have been in such a perilous situation,” said the missionary. “Tell us how you were relieved at Sung-tong.”
The shadow deepened upon the weary face.