I saw that I was no match for Russian wiliness, and retired from the contest.
“It is very unfortunate. But perhaps, after all, it would be best to go by sea.”
“Yes, yes,” he assented eagerly. “It would be very difficult, even dangerous, by the railway.”
Then the host interposed and changed the conversation. But at the end of the evening, when all the Russians had imbibed freely, my neighbour forgot his caution. When bidding me good‐night, he insisted on giving me his address in Newchwang, where he usually resided, being then only on a visit to Shanhaikwan. He cordially invited me to come and see him.
“But I fear that I shall have come and gone before you can possibly arrive there,” I said. “We leave Taku in three or four days; and it is not twenty‐four hours’ sail from there to Newchwang. So I shall have left before you can get there.”
“Oh, not at all,” he said unguardedly. “I am leaving Shanhaikwan for Newchwang to‐morrow morning by a train starting at ten o’clock. So be sure to come and see me.”
I smiled to myself as I shook his hand. No wonder Russian diplomacy prospers.
That dinner was the merriest function at which I had assisted for a long time. Our friends were excellent boon companions, and the conversation in divers tongues never flagged. Tiny cigarettes were handed round between each course; and the menu comprised many delicacies that came as a pleasant surprise in the wilds of China. When the meal was ended and cigars were lit, my host asked me whether I would prefer coffee or thé à la Russe. As I had always understood that this latter beverage was prepared from a special and excellent blend of tea and flavoured with lemons, I voted for it. To my horror, the soldier‐servant brought me a long tumbler filled with an amber‐coloured liquid and proceeded to stir a large spoonful of jam in it. The mixture was not palatable, but courtesy demanded that I should drink it. I declared the concoction delicious, drained my glass and set it down with relief. The attendant promptly filled it up again, my host insisting that as I liked it so well, I must have more. It nearly sufficed to spoil my enjoyment of the whole dinner.
During the evening, whenever our companions were not observing me, I replenished my glass with plain soda‐water, and my brother officer had remained faithful to his weak beverage. Consequently, at the end of dinner we were perfectly sober; while our host and his friends who had imbibed freely were—well, the reverse. Conscious of their own state and contrasting it with ours, they gazed at us in admiration, and exclaimed, “These English officers have the heads of iron.” We parted at a late hour. With many expressions of mutual friendship and goodwill, the party broke up; and so ended a very interesting and enjoyable evening. No longer a homeless outcast, I retired to rest in the friendly shelter of Kell’s quarters.
During the night I was dimly conscious of heavy rain but slept on unregarding. When I rose in the morning I found that a change had come over the scene. A burning sun no longer blazed overhead. The sky was dark with leaden clouds; the rain was falling with tropical violence, and all the landscape beyond the station was almost invisible. Already the line was covered with water; and fears were expressed by the staff that a freshet might occur in the hills and the railway be rendered impassable and possibly be breached. As the day wore on, these apprehensions became intensified. In the afternoon the train from Tong‐ku steamed in, literally ploughing its way through the water. The driver reported that not many miles from Shanhaikwan the floods were out and as his engine passed through them the fires were nearly extinguished. Another hour would render the line impassable. Pleasant tidings these for me; for our party purposed returning to Tientsin on the morrow, and some of us were starting for Japan the day after.