"Of course. I wish I could go up the line myself. Is it impossible?"
"You must not think of it, master. If it were known that questions were being asked about an Englishman arrested by the Russians, suspicion would be awakened, and what could you say if you were caught? No, leave it to my countrymen; they will know exactly how to enquire, without seeming too curious. As for you, it is best to remain in Moukden, and wait until we get more news."
"I'm afraid you are right. Well, let it be so for the present. Tell me, is Sowinski in the city?"
"Yes, he is living in your father's house."
At that Jack fired up again. Red with anger he strode up and down the room, itching to do something, yet feeling all the time his helplessness. Then he checked himself with a laugh.
"I'll never do for a Chinaman," he said, "if I show temper so easily. You must teach me to fix my face, Mr. Hi."
"Yes, master," said the compradore seriously. "I will buy a little image of Buddha, and put it in a corner of the room. If you look at it for two hours every day your face will be as calm as a still pool."
The compradore's house was very small, and before a week was out Jack was terribly sick of being cooped up in it from morning till night. Only after dark, when the quarter was quiet—and that was at a very late hour, for when Chinamen start playing fan-tan it becomes a trial of endurance—only then did the compradore think it safe for his guest to issue forth for a breath of air. The proximity of Sowinski was itself a danger. Moreover, his acquaintances, among them Sowinski's Chinese servants, were becoming curious. It was impossible to harbour a stranger long in secret; for a couple of days the story of a sick cousin passed muster, but the compradore had omitted to state the nature of the illness, and his friends began to enquire whether they might not be allowed to see the sick man and join Hi An himself in the charms and exorcisms proper to cure him. Thus pushed into a corner, the worthy man drank in their sight the ashes of burnt yellow paper, and whispered that he feared his relative was sickening for a fever; it would not be safe to admit visitors. He was about to sacrifice to the divinities on the sick man's behalf; and, taking his courage in both hands, he invited a number of his friends to accompany him.
Jack rolled with laughter when he afterwards learnt what had happened. His amusement was all the greater because the compradore was so obviously ill at ease lest he should have incurred the displeasure of the divinities by sacrificing for a man who was not ill. Professing to be not quite sure of the disease, he had gone first to the roadside shrine of his Excellency the Small-Pox and burnt incense there; then to the Honourable Divinity the Plague; finally, to make short work of it and cover all imaginable complaints, he had proceeded to the deity known as Mr. Imperfect-In-Every-Part-Of-His-Body, a hideous idol with sore eyes, hare-lip, and ulcerated legs. Convinced now that the travelled relative must be in a desperately bad state, the inquisitive neighbours gave a wide berth to Hi An, and no longer desired to cross his threshold.
But when a week had passed, Jack, finding his inactivity intolerable, came to the conclusion that it would really be safer if he moved about a little. The neighbourhood would expect to be invited either to his funeral or to a feast in celebration of his recovery, and the talk that would ensue when neither event happened might develop danger both for himself and for his host. One evening the compradore, on returning home, chanced to mention that during the day he had been asked by a foreign war-correspondent if he could recommend a servant. The stranger already had a capable mafoo, or groom, but this man had absolutely refused to carry or have anything to do with a little black box on which his master set great store, and the foreigner had met with the same refusal from every native to whom he applied. Hi An himself was somewhat amused at the situation. Having served Mr. Brown for so many years, and in so many different places, including the southern treaty ports, he was well aware that the black box was a harmless photographic camera: had not Master Jack himself possessed one in Shanghai? But the Moukden natives, not yet accustomed to the kodak of the globe-trotter, were convinced that the mysterious box was choke-full of little black devils impatiently waiting for any confiding Chinaman simple enough to be lured within their influence. The correspondent, being somewhat stout and far from active, was loth to carry the camera himself, and had almost resigned himself to the dead-lock.