Chang-Li-Hun’s face was barren of expression while the pilot was delivering himself of this long speech.
“I am not the general of the soldiers,” he craftily replied; “suppose I, a civilian, should give the soldiers orders to protect foreigners, how may I be assured that they will obey?”
Langdon fearlessly gazed at the aged mandarin, whom he knew was trying, as the Chinese say, “to throw dust in his eyes.”
“Is not the Tartar general under the orders of the viceroy?” he asked uncompromisingly.
“I may give an order,” the viceroy answered evasively, “but I am not a soldier; then how shall I risk the displeasure of my father’s spirit, when I would not know if it were being enforced?”
By the viceroy’s words his treachery was unmasked. Langdon had been told in the strictest confidence by Emmons that General Hang-Ki had embraced secretly the Christian belief; not suspecting this, the viceroy had put his foot into a trap by insinuating that the general could not be depended upon to carry out orders to protect the foreigners and the thousands of Christian Chinese, who were alike called foreigners by the fanatical anti-Christians.
“Where can the general be found?” Langdon inquired finally.
“His residence is in the forts,” the viceroy answered.
“Then our mission is with him,” the pilot declared, rising from his chair; “your Excellency then will agree to give the order and I shall endeavor to obtain his promise to conscientiously carry it out. My captain’s one desire is to spare the misguided people of the city from the further vengeance of the foreign powers.”
“What do you mean?” the viceroy asked, for a second dropping his mask and gazing at the pilot through worried eyes.