"And leave you to die, my brother," said Mr. St. John gently; "that cannot be God's will, surely."
"I may not die," replied the young subaltern brightly. "I do not feel at all like death yet, I shall give them a lot of trouble, but it would hamper me to have Mrs. Ross and Miss Leicester here; how will they stand the sight of blood? They might even be wounded in the scuffle, and if the worst comes it would increase the bitterness of Death to know they were in danger, to know I had died in vain."
"True," said Mr. St. John, tenderly; "then farewell until we meet again on earth or in the glory. Come, Nina darling," he whispered, gently raising the fainting girl and folding her in his arms.
"It is needless," put in Mr. Li. He spoke sharply and decisively; all this time he had been occupied with Wang, and Wang had been protesting and blaspheming and swearing by all his gods.
"Now," said Mr. Li, and his voice sounded terrible in its sternness and solemnity. "You know me, and I know that you have that key; I am not going to risk the lives of five innocent people; if you do not give up the key you die. As surely as there is a God above us, so surely do I send you to appear before Him." He drew a revolver from his pocket and held it close to the man's eyes. "I give you exactly three minutes to make up your mind; if at the end of that time you have not confessed, I shall blow your brains out."
It is impossible to say whether Mr. Li would have carried out this threat. If he had attempted to do so, no doubt Mr. St. John would have thought it right to intervene, but Mr. Li knew his man, and before two minutes were up Wang was blubbering out that Mr. Li had dropped the key, and that he (Wang) had picked it up not knowing what key it was, and here it was if Mr. Li wanted it so much, where he had placed it for safety in his pig tail!
"You scoundrel," said Mr. Li, contemptuously. "I only wish I had the time to give you the thrashing you deserve; even now," he said, as he tore the key out of the man's hair, "it may be too late the delay may cost us our lives." As he spoke he heard a noise behind him, and, looking round, they saw that their fears of discovery were realized. The enemy had come to the conclusion at last that the house was empty, and as they emerged from the wood, they caught sight of the little band, and uttered a scream of triumph. Young Crawford stood like a lion at bay, his noble head thrown back, his unsheathed sword grasped firmly in his hand, his eyes shining as if they were on fire. Mr. St. John stood beside him, endeavouring to shield the two shrinking girls. Would the lock never turn? There was something peculiar about it, and it was rusty—it seemed a century before it turned with an angry, rasping sound, but that sound was sweetest music in their ears.
"Quick, quick," cried out young Crawford in an agony of impatience, for he saw that it was only a question of moments. The Chinese had quailed before his terrible expression; they had not cared to face him or his gleaming sword. But what could one man do against so many? They prepared to spring. Meanwhile the half-fainting girls had been dragged into the place of safety, and young Crawford stood on guard alone.
"Come, brother, come," shouted Mr. St. John. It was too late. Infuriated at the escape of their prey, the foremost men sprang across the open space to where young Crawford stood. He was just in front of the open door, yet he could not enter—if he turned they would be upon him and force an entrance also, if he fell back it would be the same thing. "Close the door," he shouted out to Mr. Li. "Put your back against it," called out Mr. St. John. Mechanically he obeyed. Inch by inch, still with the point of his sword pointing at his foes, he retreated, until he stood with his back up against the door, prepared to sell his life as dearly as might be.
They did not hesitate long. With wild shrieks like those of a famished wolf, they rushed upon him: but he was an expert in the art of fencing. He knew how to parry and thrust, he had the swordsman's quick eye and mobile hand and arm. The end would be the same of course, but theirs would not be an easy victory. The minutes passed and still he held them at bay; they rushed at him, but he shook them off as some noble animal shakes off the dogs that are worrying him to death. Not many that came within the sweep of that terrible sword returned again to the attack. Three times he thrust them back, and still he stood there unharmed, save for a slight flesh wound in his forehead from which the blood trickled down his face. But he felt that the end was near, his breath came in great throbbing gasps, his sword cleaved to his hand, his heart laboured painfully; he fell backwards, down, down, down into the darkness, and thought that he was dead and that an angel bent over him, but the angel's eyes were suffused with tears and bore a curious resemblance to Nina's. "He will do now," someone said; and then he fell asleep, the most delicious sleep he had ever experienced in his life. When he awoke Nina and Mr. St. John sat by his side.