With a single bound he reached my side.
“Take thy place there!” I continued, pointing to Slim Lim’s breast, “and if my enemy moves but the poor space of a narrow inch, do thy duty!”
Bulger sprang lightly upon Slim Lim’s breast, and with a low growl gave him to understand that there must be no trifling.
Then my turn came to act.
Whipping my pocket-knife out, I laid hold of Slim Lim’s hand, and in less than a minute’s time I cut a fine pen, with an excellent nib, on the end of the long nail of his little finger.
Bulger looked on very much interested, giving a low growl every time Slim Lim showed the slightest indication of resenting the treatment to which I was subjecting him.
My ink?
That was a simple matter. Pricking my thumb with the point of my knife, I let a few drops of the crimson fluid collect on the palm of my hand. Then, reaching out for one of the paper mats, I dipped the pen which now graced the little finger of the Lord of the Peacock Feather, and set my signature on the uncolored side of the mat in a neat, round hand.
Bidding Bulger descend from his post of honor, I now held out my hand to his excellency, the Taou-tai, with these words:
“Rise, Sir Knight of the Plain Red Button; be generous as thou art noble; I have triumphed! Forgive my audacity. In my place, thou wouldst have done likewise. Let thy enemy become thy friend. In birth, noble; in letters, learned; in arts, skilled; he is more worthy of thy friendship than deserving of thy enmity!”