All at once the silvery chime of the clock sounded and then came the rapid striking of the hour. The door opened and the boy in red, appeared. He said something in a screaming voice, and then, almost as by magic, the room emptied. The rolling mass of Chinamen had extinguished the flaming joss, and Hwei, suddenly disengaging himself from the buccaneer, darted through the door. The boy followed with the rest of the assailants, and when Rupert and Burgh got their breath they found themselves facing the still smoking joss, with Tung-yu blandly smiling at them.
"Ho," said Clarence rising and shaking himself. "I guess the row's over. Hurt Ainsleigh?"
"Got a flesh wound," said Rupert, winding his handkerchief round his left arm, "and you?"
"I'm as right as a pie. So here's Tung-yu. Your hour I guess."
The Chinaman bowed, and picking up the god restored him to his shrine, which was considerably damaged. "It is lucky the red boy cried that Hwei's hour was over," he said coolly, "or you would both have been killed."
"You wouldn't have got the fan though," said Rupert throwing himself down on his seat, "but you don't intend to kill us I suppose."
"No. The god Kwang-ho is merciful now. I make you rich."
"Humph," said Burgh crossly, "I wish I had that fan with me."
"You have, or Mr. Ainsleigh here, has it," said Tung-yu, "I will give you five thousand for the fan."
"I haven't got it."