“Anything,” cried Tai Lin hoarsely, groping feebly the table’s edge.
One by one the bishop pulled his fingers until the knuckles cracked in each, which he did only in moments of great pleasure.
“Will Your Excellency agree to deed your park to the Church if it withdraws its protection and sanctions her punishment?”
“No!” answered Tai Lin decisively.
“But if she is found and given over to you?” interposed the bishop eagerly.
Tai Lin did not answer for some time.
“No,” he said finally. “You will take my park and then squeal Christian! Christian! Christian! I know you rogues.”
The bishop picked his teeth. Once in a while he clacked his tongue, which was a sign of perplexity. Presently he smiled.
“We will draw up a contingent bond signed and attested to the effect that the park shall not become the property of the Church until the last stroke of the lyngchee.”
A purple pallor overspread the seams and wrinkles of Tai Lin’s face; his glowing eyes became vacuous.