A dark head, adorned with a pigtail, appeared for a moment above ground.
"Quick! quick!" the man said, in Chinese, "I fear we are followed."
Mr. Crawford had hardly time to think, though, like lightning, the thought did cross his mind that Wang might have betrayed him; but even a moment's hesitation might have been fatal, and he sprang down into the darkness. Not a minute too soon—as the trap door closed above him, he distinctly heard voices and footsteps overhead. His fears of an ambush, however, and treachery in one direction were soon dispelled, for his hand was seized in an honest British clasp, and an English voice exclaimed:—
"Mr. Crawford, I believe?"
"Yes; and you are—?"
"Paul St. John. You may have heard of me."
"Often," replied the younger man. "I am so glad to meet you."
"And I to meet you." And the two men grasped each other's hands.
"How is Miss Leicester?" asked Mr. Crawford, eagerly.
"Better," replied Mr. St. John, "but she is still very weak. Her nervous system has undergone a great shock, and it will be some time before she is quite herself again. In addition to the blow which she received, and the fright, there was a good deal of fever, and in this climate fever seems to have a tremendous grip on the constitution, and it is a long time before one recovers, even when one is young and strong. She needs rest, but that, unfortunately, she cannot have, poor child, as I gather that it would not be safe to remain here another night. I am thankful to say the fever has now gone; I must give her a strong cordial, and we must make the journey as easy as we can for her."