“But they were faithful,” I suggested.
“To the death,” said he, with a slight shudder. “They even tried to oppose their frail bodies between him and the ship’s splintering timbers. Sir, it would have made you cringe to see their mangled remains——as I did. But the sacrifice did no good at all.”
“You are sure he will die?” I asked.
“I am positive. Surgical skill can do nothing to save him. If only old Death’s-Head had perished with him,” he added, with a glance toward the state cabin, “I should feel more reconciled. But Mai Lo happened to be in a safe place, and escaped.”
“Is he old?” I asked musingly.
“You never can tell a Chinaman’s age from his looks,” said the Doctor. “Yet I would wager that Mai Lo is sixty, if he’s a day. I’m told that at home he’s the governor of Prince Kai’s native province, and a person of consequence.”
“I don’t like him,” said I, frankly.
“No one likes him, not even his young master,” returned the Doctor. “By the way, how old should you judge Kai Lun Pu to be?”
“Perhaps the Prince is eighteen—or nineteen,” I hazarded.
“He is seven-and-twenty. These Chinese seem to age very slowly, unless they’re addicted to opium, like the coolies. Have a cigar, sir?”