Dr. Ti Kung again courteously depreciated himself, and they turned to the American. The chief of barbers said:
"The illustrious one now occupying the chair has relapsed in revery, having given no directions. Is it desirable that the entire head be denuded?"
Ti Kung uncovered his own queue-less head. "Let the hair be short-cropped merely, as this of his servant—and the features shaven."
"So be," said the chief, shuffling over to direct the operators. In a moment he was back in his position beside the Chinese gentleman.
"This illiterate one," he began again, as the gurgling of the water-pipe was renewed, "perceived in the reports today that the wrestler, Kwong, won all honours in the athletic contests at the Imperial Pavilion. His prowess has doubtless come under court attention before. Today the trained cormorant of the Mandarin Pih has proved to be the best diver in a tournament that has been held three successive days on the river. Probably, however, this fact is already known to one whose relatives recline in the Yellow Palanquin...."
Just now one of the barbers drew back a step to survey his half-finished task. The eyes of the others were drawn to the strange voices at the turning of the street. A small party of American tourists, exploring the Walled City, had reached this point. Dr. Ti Kung recognised the party as belonging to the ship he had left this morning. Just at this moment the white man leaped up from the barber's chair and staggered forth, waving his hands. Dr. Ti Kung observed that his charge had been whipped back to consciousness by the voices of the tourist party.
The Chinese gentleman spoke quickly, a low, intense order. One of the barbers darted after the white man who had turned down an alley-way to the rear of the shop, Dr. Ti Kung following leisurely. A moment later, he watched without concern while two brawny bare-shouldered natives overcame the half-shaven one, and carried him through the nearest door.... It was still early in the day. The tourist party had passed on.
2
The white man awoke several hours later on the floor of a small stone cell containing one table and one chair. The chair was cemented to the floor. He had not jarred it loose, though the cell was so small that his body had been forced to adjust itself to it during sleep. The table was also stationary. The door was of heavy black wood, intended to preserve silence from without and possibly from within. There was a small metal disc in the door and by the finger-marks around it, the prisoner grasped the fact that it doubtless covered a hole.
Gaining his feet he had to bend considerably to put his mouth to the opening. He called and turned his ear to the disc for answer. He was about to make further outcry when he heard a peculiar scuffling step in a distant corridor. It soon halted before the door and inquired in a nasal, whining tone, something which sounded like: