"I am delighted to have you accept my hospitality," resumed the Mongol. "There are many—er—things we must discuss, but I would indeed be rude if I suggested that we take up those matters so soon after your fatiguing journey. Perhaps you will do me the honor of calling at my residence to-morrow night?... I shall send my estimable chief councillor, Na-chung, to—er—fetch you, as they say in your country."
And he did a most Western thing; he extended his hand. Trent accepted it, because he had no choice. For some inexplicable reason he felt a sudden loathing. In that instant the Mongol seemed, mentally, as misshapen as his limb. It was like a swift glimpse behind the serene Buddha-like face, and his touch was a tangible reminder that Hsien Sgam—Hsien Sgam of the slender hands and sensitive lips—was responsible for the slaughter that Trent only a short while before had witnessed. "Thus the Governor punishes treason," Na-chung had said.
The Mongol spoke, almost with clairvoyance.
"Doubtless you found in the ceremonies this afternoon a—er—slight unpleasantness; that is, it would be unpleasant to an Anglo-Saxon." He smiled. "Public executions, we of Shingtse-lunpo find, are necessary to bring forcibly to the people the supremacy of the State, and"—the baffling eyes were more inscrutable than ever—"as an example to those who contemplate—shall I say, indiscretions?"
Still smiling, Hsien Sgam limped to the sedan-chair. He entered, without another glance at Trent, and was borne away on the shoulders of the guards.
"Come," said Na-chung. "My men are waiting outside the gate."
Back through the narrow, crowded streets they rode—streets that were as chaotic as Trent's brain. The discovery that Hsien Sgam was Governor of Shingtse-lunpo (and, quite evidently, one of the Order of the Falcon) swung his main danger from Sarojini Nanjee to the Mongol—or rather, left him between the two perils. Of the pair, he imagined he could expect more mercy from the woman. If she and the Mongol were in league, that doubly jeopardized his position; but if they were opposing forces.... Well, frequently the third party profits by the rivalry of the other two. What puzzled him most was why Hsien Sgam had tried to kill him in Rangoon, if he believed him Tavernake, the jeweler. And Trent did not doubt for an instant, now, that the Mongol was the instigator of the bullet that Kerth had intercepted. A warm thrill of assurance ran through him at thought of Kerth. He had one ally. More, of course, counting the muleteers and Dana Charteris; but the girl was more of a liability than an asset, a thorn in his fragile security. If she were only somewhere else.... But she was not. And her presence troubled him.
Hsien Sgam, the Governor of Shingtse-lunpo. He smiled inwardly. What was the Mongol's part in the jewel mystery? He suspected that Hsien Sgam's talk of a Mongol revolution was a sheath in which his true motive in luring him to the joss-house in Rangoon lay hidden. Was—?
"By George!" he muttered, aloud.
Glancing toward Na-chung, he saw the councillor's questioning look and made an inconsequential remark, while he asked himself: