“I think, sir, a mandarin of the third or fourth class would be the most suitable.”
“The only thing against that is that we have no appropriate clothes and no means of obtaining them.”
“I was afraid that might be so, sir. In that case I might either be a Buddhist priest, whose garments could be made out of anything, or a respectable land–owner, who might reasonably wish to hand in some petition or complaint of bad conduct on the part of Chingʼs troops, or to ask for an order of protection against them.”
“That would be certainly much easier, so far as the costume goes. A land–owner might very well have a couple of armed retainers, and would, I should think, have as good a chance of obtaining an audience as a mandarin of low rank.”
“I should be glad to have a map of the town, sir, in order that I may see the exact position of the princeʼs palace.”
“That is easy enough;” and Sir Claude opened a bureau and drew out a large map.
“That is Chingʼs palace,” he said; “it is, as you see, by the side of the lake, about half–way between the Northern Cathedral and the bridge across the lake.”
Rex examined the map carefully.
“Thank you, sir!” he said when he had finished. “I shall be able to make my way there without difficulty.”