“Wait a moment! Let it develop. We shall soon see.”
The medium writhed in agony. “Oh, my God! Why don’t you fetch a saw!” he cried. “It’s here across my breast-bone. It is cracking! I feel it! Hawkin! Hawkin! Pull me from under! Hawkin! Push up the beam! No, no, that’s worse! And it’s on fire! Oh, horrible! Horrible!”
His cries were blood-curdling. They were all chilled with horror. Then in an instant the Chinaman was blinking at them with his slanting eyes.
“What you think of that, Mister Mailey?”
“It was terrible, Chang. What was it?”
“It was for him,” nodding towards Malone. “He want newspaper story, I give him newspaper story. He will understand. No time ’splain now. Too many waiting. Sailor man come next. Here he comes!”
The Chinaman was gone, and a jovial, puzzled grin passed over the face of the medium. He scratched his head.
“Well, damn me,” said he. “I never thought I would take orders from a Chink, but he says ‘hist!’ and by crums you’ve got to hist and no back talk either. Well, here I am. What did you want?”
“We wanted nothing.”
“Well, the Chink seemed to think you did, for he slung me in here.”