Leaving Dick still with his weapon at Chang's head David went to the door and completely closed it, having first of all peeped out into the passage. Then he returned, and sat himself down in the seat which the rascal had but lately vacated. There was an ornamental ink-pot within reach, while the pen which Chang had been using lay on the floor where he had dropped it. And just in front of David was a sheet of Chinese paper, on which the rascal had been writing. It is not the sort of thing that a decent Englishman does to read correspondence meant for other people. But here there was more than sufficient excuse. Chang might have been putting down some orders respecting his prisoners. David picked up the paper and held it closer. Then he started violently; for the Chinaman was using English, and the letter was addressed to Ebenezer Clayhill.
'Sir—This is to inform you that David Harbor, he of whom you spoke to me, has come by a misfortune at Hatsu, a walled city in northern China. He was accused with another of bringing plague to the people, and though the Governor attempted to protect him, the mob seized him during his Excellency's absence. He was beheaded this morning. Such news entitles your servant to the payment of one thousand pounds. Be so good as to mail it to the firm of Kung Kow, at Shanghai. Within I send you an official notice of the death vouched for by the British Consul.
Chang.'
David gasped. The words made him tingle all over. He glared at the prisoner as if he could eat him. And then he laughed. He rocked to and fro on the low Chinese stool, stifling his merriment as well as he was able.
'Of all the bits of cheek that I ever met, this really beats everything,' he declared. 'Here, read it, Dick; I'll put my pistol to this rascal's head willingly.'
He rose from his seat, and with the practice he had already had with the Governor of Hatsu, contrived to apply his revolver in a manner which made the trembling Chang squirm. Indeed, utter ruffian as Chang had proved himself to be, not alone by his recent interview with our hero, but by reason of the words which he had written, it was not surprising that such an one should turn out to be a coward of the worst description. Cruelty and courage do not often go together. The man who loves to browbeat others, and thrust his fellows into unpleasant places, likes least of all retaliation. Chang squirmed beneath the touch of the cold muzzle. He whined for mercy, and then sank in a dead faint on the floor. Meanwhile Dick had slowly read the letter, and from what his friend had already told him was quick to gather its meaning. One might have expected the merry fellow to roar as David had done, to see the funny point in this amazing writing; but there were some things which Dick resented, and this cold-blooded announcement of David's death, before that ceremony had taken place, rendered him furious.
'Of all the cold-blooded diabolical plots I ever heard or read of this is the worst,' he said. 'David, you will pocket that letter.'
'Why?'
'So as to prove the guilt of this Ebenezer Clayhill.'
'No, thank you,' declared our hero, slowly, 'There's been enough stirring of mud in our family. I don't want the world to know that I've such a connection.'
'Perhaps not. There's no need; the possession of this will make that ruffian retire from the position he has taken up with regard to you. He will no longer contend that his wife comes in for Edward Harbor's possessions. Anyway, I'll pocket the letter. We can discuss the matter later on. Now? What next. We kill this fellow.'