THE AMERICANS WERE
STRUCK DUMB
Langdon motioned to the Chinaman at the dead man’s bedside that no harm would come to him, and after gaining courage, but eyeing fearfully the insensible body of the last remaining guard, he came slowly to the pilot’s side.
“He says Ta-Ling has not returned,” Langdon breathed in a subdued voice after a minute’s talk with the frightened man. “He’s the treasurer you choked in the next room,” he continued hurriedly to Phil, “and he will lead us to the cell where the sailors were confined.”
The lad’s hopes ran high. If Ta-Ling had not returned, it might be possible that the men were as yet alive.
As the Americans hastened after the Chinaman, they passed Lieutenant Wilson and his waiting sailors in the courtyard.
“The viceroy is dead!” Phil exclaimed hurriedly as he passed him.
The treasurer led the way past the cell in which the midshipmen had spent so many horrible hours of torture, but to Phil’s alarm it was now empty.
“The prisoners are gone,” the lad faltered, pointing to the deserted prison. “Ask him the meaning, Langdon.”
“He says he knows nothing,” the pilot replied after stopping suddenly and questioning the distracted Chinaman. “He has been with the viceroy all night. Upon hearing of the arrival of the troops sent by Peking, the viceroy swallowed poison, a deadly Chinese drug, which he always carried with him.”