had gone up in the private elevator by sheer force of arms. Hiding behind portieres, he had seized the moment when a visitor descended from the suites of Liu Chi and Ten Shin on the night of their coming back from Washington, waited until the man had disappeared and the Chinese operator lounged waiting for a call, and then he had come out, shoved the muzzle of his gun against the Chinaman's blouse and ordered him to ascend.
The secretary met him at the top and to him McNeill applied the same treatment. His lean face, bossed with muscles from his set jaws, aided the imagination of the secretary, who walked before him, death joggling his ribs, into the anteroom and so into the reception room where the two princes sat. This time they were in conventional evening dress, their faces strangely incongruous in the setting.
McNeill faced them with a crisp demand for an audience.
"Certainly," assented Liu Chi with the -briefest glance at his cousin. "But there was, there is no need for violence, Mr. McNeill. You can put that pistol away. We are quite adequately protected."
"That is where you are mistaken," said Neill McNeill. "I do not represent violence, only force, and that is quite necessary. And I am amply backed. I do not give a poppy petal for my own life at the present moment," he went on, speaking in the Mandarin dialect, "save as it may accomplish an end and, if it is wiped out, there are others who possess the actual evidence I am about to present to you."
Again there was that hint of a look, the swift shuttling of agate eyes, but the princes said nothing.
"I do not know how intimate you have become with the workings of American justice—" Neill went on, his voice as cold as ever theirs had sounded—"the justice that you spoke of adapting to your own new republic. But there is such a thing as international law and you have made the mistake of supposing Mr. Remsden to be purely a private citizen without influence at Washington. You can easily assure yourselves of this mistake by discussion with your embassy, I am very certain. He has a great deal of power.
"You affect to disdain the matter of the claw in your affectation of new Chinese policies which you are forced to adopt by the trend of the times in China. You are particularly anxious, not merely to remain upon good terms with the United States and her allies, but also to negotiate a loan of considerable magnitude. This has not been made public and my knowledge of it should show you that I have not been idle and that Mr. Remsden, from whom I obtained the information, is in touch with international affairs.
"You sent some roses to Miss Remsden. I have the full evidence. You will be held responsible for the actions of your secretary, despite any denial he may make. The thorns were impregnated with the virus of leprosy, which was communicated to Miss Remsden, as you hoped, by the pricking of her hand. Those thorns have been subjected to analysis, not thrown away, as you expected. I know the symptoms of leprosy.
"To that and the fact that the virus was so strong as to bring out swiftly those symptoms, is due the fact that the roses were rescued in time. Your rank may keep you from imprisonment, but your failure to make the loan, the general loathing and suspicion that will be cast upon all Chinese diplomacy and personality will not serve to make you popular with your government. The evidence is in the hands of our Secret Service, or will be turned over to them either upon my order or in case I do not leave these rooms unscathed or am in any way interfered with. I have spoken."
McNeill stopped talking, unable to tell from those impassive masks what effect his powerful indictment had made. It was largely bluff. Remsden did have influence and the wires had been busy ever since he had disclosed to Remsden the state of his daughter's health. But they had been unable to recover the roses. Still the cards were hidden and the stakes were big.
"We will converse in English," answered Ten Shin imperturbably. "You have delivered your tirade, Mr. McNeill. If such a misfortune has overtaken Miss Remsden, we can understand your feelings and those of her father, powerless as we may be to avert them."
"Remsden is not her father," said McNeill. "No blood of his is in her veins and she is innocent of any complicity in his affairs."
"She is not his own daughter?"
"No."
There was silence for several moments. The two princes seemed to be, in some occult way, transferring thoughts.