2
The engineer received him at three. Neither spoke of the incident that had brought them together in the night. To Doane, indeed, it was now, in broad daylight and during most of the time, but a nightmare, unreal and impossible. During the moments when it did come real, he could only set his strong face and wait out the turbulence and bewilderment it stirred in him.
M. Pourmont found him very nearly himself; which was good. He seemed, despite the bandaged shoulder and the thinner face, the Griggsby Doane of old. But his proposal—-he was grimly bent on it—was nothing less than to make the effort, that night, to get through to the telegraph station at Shau T'ing.
M. Fourmunt took the position that the thing couldn't be done. After losing two natives in the attempt, he had decided to conserve his meager manpower and fall back on the certain fact that the legations knew of the siege and were doubtless moving toward action of some sort. Besides, he added, Duane with his courage and his extensive knowledge of the local situation was the man above all others he could least well spare.
Doane, however, pressed his point. “Getting through the lines will be difficult, but not impossible,” he said. “Remember I did get through last night. I believe I can do it again to-night. Even if I should be captured they may hesitate to kill me. I would ask nothing better than to be taken before Kang. He would have to listen to me, I think. And if I do succeed in establishing communication with Peking I may be able to stir them to action. The Imperial Government can hardly admit that they are backing Kang. It may even be possible to force them, through diplomatic pressure alone, to repudiate him and use their own troops to overthrow him. But first Peking must have the facts.”
M. Pourmont smiled.
“If you vill step wiz me,” he said, and led the way down a corridor to his spacious dining-room. There on the table, stood a large basket heaped with apples and pears. “Vat you t'ink, Monsieur Doane! But yesterday comes un drapeau bianc to ze gate viz a let-tair from zis ol' Kang. He regret vair' much zat ve suffair ici ze derangement, an' he hope zat vair' soon ve are again confortable. In Heaven, perhaps he mean! Chose donnante! An' he sen' des fruits viz ze compliments of Son Excellence Kang Hsu to Monsieur Pourmont. Et je vous demande, qu'est-ce que cela fait?”
Doane considered this puzzle; finally shook his head over it. It was very Chinese. Kang doubtless believed that through it he was deluding the stupid foreigners and escaping responsibility for his savage course.
Finally Doane won M. Pourmont's approval for his forlorn sally. He was, in a wild way, glad.
During the few hours left to him he must work rapidly, think hard. That, too, was good. He decided to write a will. If he had little money to leave Betty, at least there were things of his and her mother's. Elmer Boatwright would help him. And he must tell Betty he was going. It was curiously hard to face her, hard to meet the eye of his own daughter. He winced at the thought.