"Take the girl," he said, and spoke to her in brief command. "My men will assist you to disturb things down-stairs."
I picked my way down the steps, and the soft clack of the Chinese shoe sounded behind me as the girl followed. Big Sam accompanied me to the lower floor, and, after making sure that our hack was where we had left it, he gave orders to his men. I hastily explained the situation to Mr. Baldwin.
"Ah--a comedy performance," he said with affected carelessness. But I could see that he cursed himself for a fool for being drawn into the affair.
"Draw your revolver, but don't fire more than one shot," I said.
Big Sam gave a shout, and in an instant the place was filled with a medley of voices raised in tones of anger and alarm. A table was overturned, boxes were flung about, cries of men rose, a dozen revolver shots followed in quick succession, a woman's scream pierced the air, and there was an excellent imitation of a highbinder affray on a small scale. I fired one shot into the breast of a mandarin, whose painted outlines ornamented a chest, and providently reserved the rest of my bullets for possible need. Then two of the Chinese lifted a heavy box and flung it at the closed doors. There was a crash of wood, a jingle of breaking glass, and the door fell outward.
"Well, I should judge it was time to go," said Mr. Baldwin.
"Come on," I said, seizing the Chinese girl. And we started on the run for the hack as the lights were extinguished.
We had just reached it when two or three more shots were fired and a bullet sang uncomfortably close to my head.
"In there, quick!" I said to Mr. Baldwin, as I lifted the girl to her seat "This place is getting too hot for us."
"Aren't you coming in?" he asked, with a trace of anxiety in his tone.