A moment afterward Emmons was brought aft by the sailor messenger. The lantern was raised above the sailor’s head, shedding its light on the startled face of the half-breed. Phil regarded him with well-feigned loathing.
“This man is an enemy of the viceroy,” Phil declared, in well simulated anger. “His escape would be a very serious matter. I can take him with me now if you will agree to trust him in my hands.”
The officer did not exactly relish the turn of affairs. If he had made a mistake in delivering his captain’s letters and then the fugitive into the wrong hands, he knew he would suffer severely.
“I dare not do that,” he said. “By my government’s regulations asylum must be given to all asking protection. To-morrow after my captain returns he will, if he sees fit, deliver him to the viceroy. I shall lock him up for safety and you can be sure he will not escape.”
“But I have been searching for this man,” Phil declared, his voice now really earnest. He must get Emmons from his perilous position. “It is all-important that he be taken to the viceroy to-night. I can assure you that if your captain were here he would deliver him up to Ta-Ling.”
All suspicion had disappeared from the officer’s mind upon hearing this earnest appeal. After all, he was but a Chinaman, and he knew his captain was very friendly with the viceroy and his powerful secretary Ta-Ling.
“All right,” he said. “I will take your word that in delivering the man to you I shall be acting as my captain would wish.”
“He should be bound,” Phil said almost gleefully. “Can you get me a rope?”
The officer, leaving Phil’s side, crossed the deck to a chest; opening it, he searched through its contents. The midshipman, greatly fearing an outbreak from Emmons, stepped cautiously to his side and whispered for him to make no outcry.
“I knew you immediately,” Emmons breathed.