Neither of these was in an envelope, but both were sealed in the Chinese fashion. Without a moment's hesitation Ling broke the seals, and Sir Thomas's gold signet ring fell to the floor. He stooped and picked it up, and then read both letters to himself. And as he read his smile broadened, displaying his fang-like yellow teeth.
"It is fortunate," said he, "that I can read English. It is of advantage in this life to be a scholar. The ignorant man works in the paddy-field wading knee-deep in the mud, but the wise man eats the rice." Then he remained silent for some minutes, still reading to himself.
"I see," he remarked, "this matter has been well arranged. Cheong-Chau threatens to take the lives of the foreigners if he does not receive a ransom of twenty thousand dollars before the new moon. It interests me to learn that the money must be hidden before that date in the Glade of Children's Tears, upon the banks of the Sang River. I know the place well. I even remember the red stone--though I admit I did not know there was a vault beneath that stone. Certainly the matter has been well arranged."
During this soliloquy--for Ling had to all intents and purposes been speaking to himself--Frank could not help regarding the countenances of Ah Wu and Yung How. The expression upon the face of each was suggestive of the most complete disgust. Disappointment and infinite distress were conveyed in every feature. Ling looked at them and burst into laughter.
"Two fools!" he cried. "Had you been wise men you had taken me into your confidence and allowed me a share of the plunder. As it is, you may see not a cent of it. It will be very simple for me to deliver these letters and to keep watch upon the Glade of Children's Tears."
His laughter had disturbed the sleeper, for Men-Ching turned over upon his back and mumbled a few incoherent words in his sleep. Then, still sleeping, he moved a hand to the breast of his coat, to the place where he had carried the letters.
Almost at once he sat bolt upright--wide awake.
"Stolen!" he cried, his hands still clutching at his coat. "Stolen," he repeated.
Then he set eyes upon Ling.
Upon his face an expression of dismay turned, as in a flash, to one of uncontrollable anger. He sprang to his feet, at the same time drawing from his belt a long curved knife. Though he stood upon the couch itself, he was little taller than Ling. With a savage oath he raised the knife above his head. And then he struck downward, straight for the heart of the gigantic Honanese.