A dim light shone into their cell as the door swung loudly open, and the scowling face of Ta-Ling appeared, with the jailer behind him, timidly holding up an oil lantern.
“So you didn’t like to be kept with the rest of the cattle?” Ta-Ling’s cruel voice began. Then he stopped suddenly, and threw up his head with a wicked laugh. “You’ve heard Langdon’s answer, then?” he continued, signing to the terrified and trembling jailer to put down the lantern on the solitary wooden bench. The man entered the cell to obey, leaving the door open.
Phil saw the time had come for action. He sought Sydney’s eye, then stealthily moved his foot, quietly throwing the door off its balance, allowing it to swing slowly closed. He had purposely moved so that Ta-Ling in addressing him must turn his back upon Sydney and the jailer. Burning with excitement he watched Sydney grasp his hand irons firmly. The great bulk of the jailer loomed almost grotesquely in the light of the flickering lantern. Fearing that Ta-Ling might be attracted by the eagerness which he was powerless to hide, Phil lowered his gaze, but out of the tail of his eye he was conscious that the iron flashed in the lamplight as the click of the shutting door caused the interpreter to glance toward it suspiciously.
Then a rattle of chain and a dull sound behind him made Ta-Ling swing suddenly around. Phil’s opportunity had arrived. With fingers itching for this cruel Chinaman’s throat he sprang upon him, smothering the cry that was ready to give the alarm to the yamen guard, and bore him heavily to the ground. In the flickering light he saw the man’s face turn livid, then purple, while his muscles relaxed. Glancing up, he saw Sydney removing a great bunch of keys from the prostrate body of the jailer.
CHAPTER XIII
HOPES OF ESCAPE
Ta-Ling had ceased to struggle; his eyes protruded in ghastly fashion, while through his open mouth his tongue showed blue and swollen. Phil was terrified at the sight, believing he had killed the Chinaman, but upon opening his coat he felt his heart beating faintly.
With a sigh of great relief he rose to his feet and, taking the lantern in his hand, he scanned his prostrate victim.
“You must put on his clothes and release Langdon,” Sydney whispered, holding the keys out toward Phil.
Without a word, but with fingers trembling with excitement, the lad stooped down, stripping the robes from the inanimate form; the baggy trousers, the silken hose and satin shoes and the long flowing robe with the mandarin square of the scholar embroidered in gold on its front.
Discarding his naval uniform he hastily put on his enemy’s garments. When completely clothed he turned to Sydney, who gasped with astonishment at the altered appearance of his friend. The hat with its horsetail plume and pink button concealed his long front hair which in a Chinaman is always missing, being shaved close to his scalp.