"And obey you," the Mussulmen repeated.
Trent reached under his jacket, where his money-belt was concealed, and counted out twenty-five taels.
"Five for the guard at the gate," he explained, "and five apiece for the four of you. When we leave Tali-fang you will each receive the other five agreed upon."
"Cheulo!" agreed Kee Meng. Then he let his eyes rove over the packs and mules. "Have everything ready in an hour. Fong Wa expects you to try to leave to-night, so we will take your guides and mules to the gate and there transfer the packs to the fresh mules, sending back the men and old mules. If Fong Wa is watching, he will see them and believe you are returning to the inn. He will be very angry to-morrow, but he will not dare touch your porters, for they are yehjen. Remember—in an hour."
The villainous-looking quartet quitted the courtyard, and Trent, watching them go, wondered if he had acted wisely.
"Your bodyguards when we reach Shingtse-lunpo," he said, turning to Dana Charteris and smiling slightly; then, glancing at the rice-paper in his hand, he added: "From Euan Kerth.... He's on the way to the Falcon's city, as a lama."
2
At the appointed time Kee Meng returned.
"All is well, Tajen," he told Trent. "My friends are waiting at the gate, with the caravan."
The small pack-train was assembled, and they left the inn. Kee Meng walked beside Trent. The Englishman let one hand rest upon the revolver strapped to his thigh; the girl riding at his side nervously fingered a corrugated butt. The streets were dim and for the most part deserted. Now and then doors opened and eyes peered out, invisible but felt. Tali-fang lay in a sepulchral hush, its quiet only emphasized by jingling harness-chains and the dull, muffled beat of hoofs.