Seated upon a stool beside the curtained bunk was the Chinese attendant I had brought aboard with the Prince and the doctor. Immediately I understood Dr. Gaylord’s expression, “the Death’s-Head,” for this Chinaman typified that mythical horror in feature and expression. Perhaps I should say lack of expression, for his face was as immobile as Death itself, of a pallid gray-green color, and the skin was drawn tight as parchment over his high cheek-bones and across his thin lips. The eyes were dark and bright, but conveyed no more animation or intelligence than would glass eyes. He was dressed rather primly in a suit of black broadcloth, cut in London fashion.
As I entered, this attendant rose like an automaton and drew the curtains of the bunk, muttering a brief sentence in Chinese.
CHAPTER III.
SMILING AT DEATH.
I advanced with a respectful bow and found myself looking squarely into the eyes of the injured man. Then I gave a start of surprise, for a young man—almost a boy, he seemed—was smiling at me from the pillows as cheerily as if greeting an old friend who had come to take part in a jubilation.
In my recollections of him I have never thought of Prince Kai Lun Pu as a Chinaman. His features bore certain characteristics of his race, assuredly; but he was so thoroughly Europeanized, so cultured, frank and agreeable in demeanor, that no one could possibly think of him otherwise than as a royal good fellow whom it was a privilege to know. With his poor maimed body covered by the counterpane, the pleasant—almost merry—expression of his boyish face made one doubt that he had been injured at all, and I thought he looked as little like a dying man as anyone could.
“You are young Mr. Steele,” said he in perfect English, “and I am well pleased to see you, sir; for you have rendered me a rare service and have earned my lasting gratitude.”
“It was a simple duty,” I responded, with an answering smile; “but I am glad I was able to serve so important a personage, Prince.”
“Important?” said he, arching his eyebrows; “ah, perhaps you might find me so, were we together in my own province of Kwang-Kai-Nong.” A shadow passed over his face, and he sighed; but next moment, with renewed cheerfulness, he added, “but we are not in China, Mr. Steele, and aboard your noble ship the humble passenger must defer to your own more powerful individuality.” He cast an amused glance at the Death’s-Head and said:
“Defer, Mai Lo, to the noble American; defer for us both, since I am helpless!”
The attendant, outwardly unmoved and unresponsive, prostrated himself before me, and then resumed his former position. I could not resist a light laugh at the ridiculousness of the performance, and the Prince joined in the merriment. Then, suddenly recollecting myself, I became grave and asked: