“Who's he?”
“The viceroy of Nanking. Why don't you use that eye of yours once in a while, Tex—look around you a little?”
Slowly his mind, so quick at the vicious games of his own race, picked up and related the facts. His face relaxed, as he thought, into the familiar wooden expression.
“You're sure the stones are there?” he asked, quietly now.
She nodded; hummed again; caressed the flowers.
“All right, Dix,” he said then, as he turned to go forward, “that sounds square enough. I guess I can handle it all right. And I'll see that you get your share all hunky dory.”
“What are you figuring my share to be?” she asked, glancing casually up from a lotus blossom.
“Oh,” he cried without hesitation, almost playfully, “you and I aren't going to have any trouble about that.”
He went then; and she lingered among the flowers.
From beyond the long deck house came shouts and wailing. The great sweeps were got overside. The mooring poles were hoisted out and lashed along the sponsons. The clumsy craft swung out into the river and moved slowly forward.