"What!" cried Stuart—"he is dead? You fiend! You damned yellow fiend!" Emotion shook him and he sat clutching the leopard-skins and glaring madly at the cowled figure.
"Fortunately," resumed Fo-Hi, "my people—with one exception— succeeded in making their escape. I may add that the needless scuffling attendant upon arresting this unfortunate follower of mine, immediately outside the door of the house, led to the discovery of your own presence. Nevertheless, the others departed safely. My own departure is imminent; it has been because of certain domestic details and by the necessity of awaiting nightfall. You see, I am frank with you."
"Because the grave is silent!"
"The grave, and … China. There is no other alternative in your case."
"Are you sure that there is no other in your own?" asked Stuart huskily.
"An alternative to my returning to China? Can you suggest one?"
"The scaffold!" cried Stuart furiously, "for you and the scum who follow you!"
Fo-Hi lighted a Bunsen burner.
"I trust not," he rejoined placidly. "With two exceptions, all my people are out of England."
Stuart's heart began to throb painfully. With two exceptions! Did Miska still remain? He conquered his anger and tried to speak calmly, recognising how he lay utterly in the power of this uncanny being and how closely his happiness was involved even if he escaped with life.