"We must suppose," said he, "that Men-Ching has gone on to Hong-Kong with the letters. We may therefore presume that the letters have already reached their destination. The money may arrive at the Glade to-morrow. As for Yung How, I do not know the man. But if he contemplates treachery, it will go ill with him. And now, Ah Wu, my opium. I would smoke."
Ah Wu turned to the boy and ordered him to bring four bowls of Indian opium from the storeroom. Frank descended the stairs, passed down the length of the lower room, drew back the embroidered curtains and entered the storeroom, where he found Ling seated upon a stool. It was one of those high stools upon which Chinese of the merchant class are wont to do their accounts, similar to the old-fashioned clerks' stools sometimes seen in offices in England. When seated upon one of these, the average man rests his feet upon a cross-piece, several inches from the ground. Ling, however, sat with one foot upon the floor and the other leg crossed upon his knee.
When the boy entered, Ling was reading, but he at once looked up from his book.
"The writings of Confucius," said he, "assure me that the perfect life cannot be attained by any man. Troubles, disappointment, sorrows and failure are bound to accompany us wherever we go. Divine philosophy instructs us to accept our destiny with grace. The coat of every man is patched; there are cracks in the armour upon which he depends to defend himself from the arrows of adversity. He who thinks himself infallible falls the most heavily; the conceited man lays the trap by which he himself is caught; his own vanity trips him up. He who attempts much, hopes for much, but is prepared to go unrewarded, is he to whom success is doubly assured. I trust, my youthful friend, you follow me."
"Perfectly," said Frank.
"That is well," said Ling, laying down his book. "And now we will poison Cheong-Chau."
"Poison him!" exclaimed the boy.
"Fear not," said Ling. "Send him comfortably to sleep--a sleep that will last for some days. By then I shall have gathered the harvest at the Glade of Children's Tears, and you, my little one, will be free--your heart's sole desire."
He turned and picked up a large pale blue bowl in which he had stirred a quantity of opium, mixing it with a colourless fluid contained in a bottle.
"There are four of them, I understand?" said he.