Trent took the paper; glanced over it; waited.
"I will tell you something else, Tajen," Kee Meng continued. "Your makotou and mafus are spies. She who passed on the night of the new moon told them to watch you and report to her at Shingtse-lunpo. I heard her. They are dogs and thieves, those muleteers." Then he bent closer, as though afraid he would be overheard. "Tajen, I know the road to Shingtse-lunpo—I and my three friends. We have been there often to deliver messages from Fong Wa to the Grand Lama. Fong Wa is a tool of the lamas. He is a fool. We are tired of Tali-fang, my friends and I. We will serve you well. We are cheap. Only twenty taels a month. And look, Tajen."
He turned and called a word, and three blue-jacketed, turbaned soldiers, each as reckless-looking as Kee Meng, entered and saluted Trent.
"See? Are they not fine muleteers?"
Instead of answering, Trent asked a question:
"What else do you know of her who passed on the night of the new moon—and a certain bird that roosts in Tibet?"
"She who passed on the night of the new moon?" the Oriental echoed. "Of her I know nothing, except that she would spy upon the Tajen, who, according to what she told Fong Wa, is Tajenho in his country. And the bird—" He looked genuinely puzzled. "There are many birds in Tibet—kites and vultures! There are yaks, too, if the Tajen wishes to shoot."
Satisfied on that score, Trent went on:
"But what of my muleteers? I can't dismiss them. And if it's impossible to leave the city to-night—"
"Tajen," Kee Meng broke in, "I know a way. Only speak the word and your four muleteers will disappear—like that!" And he made a gesture. "Then we, my friends and I, will lead you out of Tali-fang to-night; and Fong Wa will not know until it is too late. Once we are beyond the Yolon-noi, he has no power over us. He is Tchentai of only this district. By riding all night we would be in Tibet before sunrise—and there—" He made another gesture.