"Then I couldn't have got here sooner. Thanks again!"
Jack dropped from the foot-board, ran down the embankment, and in a few minutes struck the high-road. He had not thought it necessary to explain to the sergeant that he knew the district. It was, as the Russian had said, very dark, but Jack made his way to a plantation near the road, through which he knew that a little stream ran. There he had a thorough wash, changed his collar, brushed and shook his clothes, and felt a different creature. Then he sat down on the moss-grown roots of an oak, and ate the Chinese cakes and dried fruit that remained from the stock of food given him by Hi Feng, the compradore's brother, washing it down with water from the brook. Dawn was breaking by the time he had finished his frugal breakfast, but it was useless to go into the town until the business houses opened. He therefore determined to remain in the secluded nook he had chosen, and sat there thinking of what lay before him.
About eight o'clock he rose to continue his walk to the town. It was two years since he had last visited it, and he was struck by the progress it had made in the interval. Founded only forty years before, the city had grown very rapidly; but since the Russian occupation of Manchuria it had made giant strides. New hospitals and barracks had been erected; the surrounding hills, once decked with forest, but now treeless, were covered with immense forts and earthworks, at which vast gangs of coolies were still at work. The wooden shanties that formerly lined the shore had for the most part given place to more solid and imposing structures of brick and stone. Other signs of development caught Jack's eye as he walked towards the harbour; but he was too eager to complete his errand to dwell upon them, especially as he heard behind him in the distance the rumble of an approaching train. It overtook him just as he turned down one of the steep, narrow side streets leading to the office of his father's agent; and as he saw the long line of carriages, including several sleeping-cars, roll past, he could not but wonder whether Anton Sowinski was among the passengers, and hastened his steps.
The office had just been opened for the day when he arrived. Alexey Petrovitch Orloff was a big, jovial Russian of some forty years; honest, or Mr. Brown would have had no dealings with him; a little greedy; a good business man, and on excellent terms with his principal. But Jack knew little about him outside their business transactions, and had made up his mind not to trust him with his secret.
"Ah, Ivan Ivanovitch!" exclaimed Orloff as Jack entered. "I was expecting you or your father. You came by the night train?"
"Yes. You must have been asleep when it arrived."
"What sort of a journey had you?"
"It was very hot."
"Yes, we have been baked here. When did you leave?"
"On Thursday."