“I should like to hear some of your experiences,” Mr Duggs continued. “In what province did you work?”
“In Hung Hang Ho,” replied Mr Bunker. His visitor looked puzzled, but he continued boldly, “My experiences were somewhat unpleasant. I became engaged to a mandarin’s daughter—a charming girl. I was suspected, however, of abetting an illicit traffic in Chinese lanterns. My companions were manicured alive, and I only made my escape in a pagoda, or a junk—I was in too much of a hurry to notice which—at the imminent peril of my life. Don’t go to China, Mr Duggs.”
Mr Duggs rose.
“Young man,” he said, sternly, “put away that fatal bottle. I can only suppose that it is under the influence of drink that you have ventured to tell me such an irreverent and impossible story.”
“Sir,” began Mr Bunker, warmly,—for he thought that an outburst of indignation would probably be the safest way of concluding the interview,—when he stopped abruptly and listened. All the time his ears had been alive to anything going on outside, and now he heard a cab rattle up and stop close by. It might be at Dr Twiddel’s, he thought, and, turning from his visitor, he sprang to the window.
Remarking distantly, “I hear a cab; it is possibly a friend I am expecting,” Mr Duggs stepped to the other window.
It was only, however, a hansom at the door of the next house, out of which a very golden-haired young lady was stepping. [pg 198] “Aha,” said Mr Bunker, quite forgetting the indignant rôle he had begun to play; “rather nice! Is this your friend, Mr Duggs?”
Mr Duggs gave him one look of his dull eyes, and walked straight for the door. As he went out he merely remarked, “Our acquaintance has been brief, Mr Butler, but it has been quite sufficient.”
“Quite,” thought Mr Bunker.