Under the Chinese Dragon: A Tale of Mongolia

by F. S. Brereton

At such times her none too pleasant features bore a somewhat ferocious aspect 'Ain't she just angry?' David used to say, as he went his way, deeming it best to absent himself for the moment. 'Just sparks flashing from her eyes. She doesn't seem as if she could be friendly. I must be an out and out obstinate fellow.'

And so he was. David was an obstinate fellow without a shadow of doubt, but with this saving clause—he was not selfish, and he was possessed of common sense; he could criticise his own actions and impulses. If he once, on maturer reflection, came to the conclusion that a certain decision was wrong, he had the sense to change it. His obstinacy was confined to matters wherein he felt that there could be no error. Witness his intention of fending for himself, of making his way alone in the world. David had that as a fixed and firm-rooted purpose before him now. His strong chin squared itself in the most emphatic manner whenever the matter crossed his mind, which was nearly always. But here was the pistol.

'I'll have it,' he told himself, his muscles tightening. 'One long stretch and there it is. Ah! they're turning their backs; I'll have a chance before very long.'

'Now the match; set the flame going,' he heard Henricksen say, and looking beneath the tent-like structure saw a sudden flash, and the profiles of this man and the 'Admiral.' The latter was holding a match towards the end of the long brass burner which Henricksen gripped in his hands. David noticed that two separate pipes converged towards the end into one, from which a small flame now spouted, while Henricksen controlled two taps, one for each of the tubes, with his fingers. Farther back a rubber tube went to each of those of metal leading to the burner, and ended at one of the cylinders, or rather, to put it in the correct order, began there, carrying the gas to the burner.

'You two get off,' said Henricksen, seeing that he had a flame. 'Spolikoff, keep moving up and down, and if you hear a latch click, sit down as tight as possible. The police look into the store every time they pass, and might see you. Admiral, pull that rug round a bit. The light will break too much round the corner.'

What a clever criminal he was! David marvelled that it could be the same sleek, suave man who waited in the jewellery department, and enticed customers to buy the things he offered. Then his eyes closed suddenly, for Henricksen's fingers manipulated the taps of his burner, and at once a fierce flame spurted out, casting about it a dazzling light. Peering round the corner of the rug which the 'Admiral' had drawn towards him, and shading his eyes behind an enormous directory, David caught a glimpse of the intensely hot jet of flame playing on the door of the safe in the neighbourhood of the lock. It seemed that he could actually see the paint peeling off, while, almost at once, the metal beneath became white hot. In less time than he could have believed it possible it seemed to be pitting, as if the flame were devouring portions of it. Then, very suddenly, the 'Admiral' pulled at the rug again, and the glare and the figures beneath the tent were obliterated. David gently removed one of the ponderous volumes, stretched his arm through the opening, and possessed himself of the Browning revolver.

'So far, so good!' he thought. 'Now to get out of the place. Wonder whether I could climb over the glass partition? No, wouldn't do; I should be seen by Henricksen at once.'

He forgot for the second that the ruffian who went by that name, and who in his everyday life was looked upon as a clever and capable salesman in the store, was at that moment wearing dark spectacles, through which he could see nothing but the glare of the acetylene flame. David failed to remember that, even armed with those glasses, the glare was such that a man manipulating the blow-pipe would require a few moments rest to accustom his eyes to lesser illumination. Then the thought occurred to him. He stretched his neck round the edge of the bookcase, and caught a glimpse of the flame. Its brilliance was intense. It caused his pupils to contract with painful suddenness, and turning his head away, he found that everything was a dark blank. For the moment his own eyes were useless. The experience emboldened him.

'I'll creep out and across the office behind the tent,' he said. 'Then I'll dodge the Russian Spolikoff. Ah! what's that?'

A motor horn sounded suddenly out in the street, and he heard the rattle of a passing automobile. The next instant there came a sharp click, which was easily heard above the gentle roar of the oxy-acetylene flame. Promptly the glare died down. Henricksen had manipulated the taps and had shut down the gas.