He waited for quite two hours before anything occurred, and then faint footsteps could be heard approaching the door, and a glimmer of light appeared through its chinks. There was some whispering. The light rays through the chinks grew brighter, and at last a brilliant ray of light was directed through a hole in the door on the apparently sleeping figure on the kang. The light steadied on the recumbent figure, and then pistol shots rang out with a deafening noise in the small room, filling it with smoke and causing Shelford to grip his pistol and jump to his feet ready to sell his life dearly. Then a conversation occurred outside the door in which Shelford easily recognised the voice of the bully Ching, who asserted that the man was dead. Another voice urged him to go in and assure himself of the fact that the man on the kang was really dead. Ching argued that the sleeping figure had not moved after the explosion of their pistols, and that consequently he could not be asleep but must have been killed. Everyone outside the door seemed to show reluctance to enter the room, and after further whispered conversation the would-be murderers departed, but not before Shelford had heard Ching say—
“Now we have slain this devil we can quietly kill the missionaries to-morrow night and loot their house. The men in the glass boat (steam launch) have been bribed, so will tell nothing.”
After this they retired. Shelford left his strained position in the corner, and with his revolver ready to his hand slept on the comfortably warmed kang until daylight.
When he appeared next morning the innkeeper would have fled from fear, had not his desire to “save face” at all cost made him bear an outwardly calm demeanour. Shelford didn’t fail to notice the impression that he created on everyone who saw him in the inn, but he felt that no further attempt on his life would be made during daylight; so having taken breakfast, he told the innkeeper that he should again sleep at the inn that night, and that the previous night he had been so comfortable and had slept so deeply that he thought there must be some beneficial essence in the air of Whang Chai that induced refreshing slumbers.
To go again to the mission-house would arouse suspicion, so Shelford wandered about the town all the forenoon in the hope of accidentally meeting someone from the mission. As time went on he became more and more anxious. That he was being closely watched he knew, and at last he dared no longer wander about apparently aimlessly, so he once more returned to the inn and ate. If only by good providence the missionaries would send a message to him! Two more hours were wasted, Shelford sitting and smoking in apparent calmness in the chief room of the inn, holding conversations with all who addressed him, but inwardly chafing and cursing his forced inaction.
There was now only an hour of daylight left; something had to be done. He called the innkeeper and begged him to send on board the steam launch for a change of clothes and some necessaries, and to order the skiff to wait by the bank till he should arrive and give some further orders for being ready to proceed to Ping Tu at ten o’clock the next morning. After which Shelford, almost bursting with anxiety, left the inn, and again walked through the town praying for the sight of someone from the mission. The people, though offering no molestations, evinced a thinly veiled hostility, and he knew that if he continued to wander about after dark his life would be in danger, but a direct attempt on his part to enter the mission-house might lead to a siege of the place and the massacre of all the inmates.
At last, some fifteen minutes before dark, he met his missionary friend of the day before. Shelford met him calmly and shook hands. He then said in his most matter-of-fact tone: “Don’t show any surprise at what I am going to say; we are now closely watched. Go home at once, put on Chinese clothes, and bring all your people as soon as possible and get to the river, where you’ll find a small white boat. If I’m not there take the boat at once and push off to the launch and make the sailors take you to Ping Tu. You may get through safely, but don’t attempt to bring anything away with you. The next half-hour will, I think, prove rather exciting. Good night!”
The missionary fortunately was a clever man and a bit of an actor—he saw that this was no jest on Shelford’s part but deadly earnest. It was now nearly dark, and the bully Ching’s agents followed close on Shelford’s heels as he proceeded to the inn. On pretext of speaking to the innkeeper, Shelford left the common room and walked towards his host’s private apartments which he knew opened on to a small courtyard, from which there might have been no means of escape, but that it was necessary to risk. He drew the innkeeper into the room, the spies watching them both. Shelford continued in conversation and pushed the door-to with his foot. His host, instantly suspicious, made a movement to reopen it, but Shelford, quick as thought, dealt him a violent blow on the temple with his pistol, and catching the Chinaman as he was falling in a heap, so as to avoid any noise being heard by the spies in the outer room, he laid the unconscious man noiselessly on the floor, still keeping up his conversation in Chinese to deceive the watchers. Then, still talking, he edged towards the courtyard. A hasty glance in the now almost complete darkness showed him that the wall could be easily scaled. Quick as thought he was over and speeding through the empty streets to the water’s edge. As he ran towards the river he was followed by three Chinamen. Should he shoot? His revolver was ready, one of his pursuers tripped and fell, the boat was close at hand, and Shelford was about to turn and fire on his pursuers when—thank God!—he heard an exclamation in English. They were the missionaries, but now others came running with lights. His escape had been noticed! The four of them tumbled into the boat and, falling on the oars, attempted to push off with all their might. The Chinaman in the boat hurled himself on Shelford and shouted to the rapidly approaching Chinese. Wrenching himself free, Shelford struck the man a crushing blow between the eyes and flung him overboard, then, jumping into the stream, with a mighty effort he pushed the boat into deep water just as Ching’s hirelings reached the water’s edge. The boat seemed to be alongside the launch in a few seconds, but already a howling mob with flickering lanterns were lining the bank. Shelford pushed his companions on board and quickly jumped up himself, leaving the small boat to drift down-stream.
“Go forward and get up the anchor at once,” he gasped to the missionaries, who obeyed him with alacrity. Shelford ran to the wheel and found a strange Chinaman standing near it. Quick as thought he took him by the throat, saying, “Cry out and I strangle you!” The man struggled to free himself, but Shelford forced him towards the wire rail of the launch and, bending him backwards over it, gave a side kick to his ankles and tipped him into the river; then running back to the wheel, he rang down to the engine-room.
“Getting up anchor! Stand by to go ahead! The foreign devils are all killed and we must go up-stream, beach the launch, and loot her.”