Very deliberately the two mandarins finished their meal, the midshipmen, even under their tension of impatience, doing full justice themselves to the savory dishes, and then the servants removed the remnants of the repast. Meanwhile all four men sat in silence, the mandarins in their silken robes in great contrast to the forlorn appearance of the Americans in their dirt-covered uniforms.
At length the silence was broken by the unmusical voice of Hang-Ki, the Tartar general. While he talked, making many gestures with his hands to illustrate his meaning, the lads racked their brains for a solution to this unexpected treatment. Finally the general finished, glancing interestedly at the midshipmen, anticipating no doubt the effect his words would have on the faces of the youths.
Phil drummed calmly with his finger nail a signal to Sydney.
“Show no feeling,” the latter read from the clear clicks upon the hardwood table, and he nodded guardedly in assent.
The second Chinaman was now interpreting the general’s words, and the midshipmen listened eagerly.
“His Excellency, General Hang-Ki, was given this ring by a soldier who said it was found by one of the jailers on the person of one of the American officers. He wishes to know from where it came.”
To Phil’s delight the Chinaman held up the jade ring, which he had believed was irrecoverably lost.
Phil saw no reason for concealment, so he at once told the story of his rescue of the Chinaman from the river.
Then it was the midshipmen’s turn to watch the general’s face as Phil’s words were given him in his own language, but to their disappointment, his features did not betray the slightest signs of aught save interest.
Finally the interpreting mandarin turned to the expectant lads, a smile on his intelligent face. They had been wondering unsuccessfully who this Chinaman might be, using the English language as readily as his own. He spoke a few words to the general, and receiving an affirmative nod, he again addressed the Americans.