“My talk will quickly change to acts, if my requests are not at once granted,” replied Dave, firmly.
“‘Acts’? What do you mean by that word?” demanded Sin Foo.
“I mean that if Bishop Whitlock and his friends are not at once produced, I shall be under the necessity of searching the yamen for them,” Ensign Darrin rejoined.
“Search the yamen?” gasped Sin Foo incredulously. “Would you dare profane the sovereignty of China?”
“I’ll do it in just five minutes, if my request is not heeded,” retorted Ensign Dave drawing out his watch.
By this time at least one hundred and fifty armed Chinese soldiers had appeared, on the ramparts, in the compound, in the doorways and windows of the buildings. Darrin’s force was much inferior numerically. Sudden treachery on the part of the Chinese might cut the American naval force in two, but Danny Grin was keeping alert watch on all Chinese in sight.
“You are making a grave mis—” began Sin Foo loftily.
“And you have already lost forty-five seconds of that five minutes,” Ensign Dave suggested, still standing, watch in hand. “If you use up the time in conversation, Mr. Sin Foo, I shall not grant a grace of even five seconds.”
“Your insolence, sir, overwhelms me,” replied the under secretary. “Shudderingly, I shall take it into the presence of his excellency.”
“And impress upon his excellency, if you please, that I am not going to lose time,” answered Dave, again glancing at his watch.