"Pai ning?"
The white man now recalled that he was in China. Recollections came quickly. He sank down into the chair, the thick table pressing against him. He heard the scuffling step depart and wondered what he was in for. There was no doubt in his mind regarding the nature of the place. There is a similarity to such places around the world. The stationary table and chair, however, were new.
He was dry. He was in pain. His face felt sticky, and rubbing his fingers across it, he was at first inclined to doubt his senses. The right side of his face witnessed to several days neglect, while the left cheek and part of the chin were cleanly shaven.
"Pai ning," he repeated. "Or was it pai ning?"
He could not tell. He remembered a native barber, but did not know if this were a new day or still last night. The last he remembered clearly was a vow of mortal friendship delivered in Shropshire dialect by a sailor from his Majesty's cruiser Dunedin, and that they were about to anoint the vow in a bar-room close to the water-front. He wondered if all the lights had gone out at that instant or just his own. He patted his face in several places, regarding his hands intently in the gloom for blood, but none appeared. He was all right muscularly; the choking which he experienced was to be expected. Now the vital questions appeared: How long was he in for? Had he been tried?
"Pai ning," he repeated. "Yes, that's what he said."
He now arose and shoved back the metal disc once more, but his call was touched with a different respect. Listening was again rewarded with the scuffling step and a whining voice.
"Pai ning?"
"Sure! Pai ning," said the American.
There was hesitation without, after which the question was repeated. The prisoner explained his need for drink in Chinese and found himself making signs of draining a fourth-dimension cup against the black door. The scuffling retreated.