morning daylight was scarcely born in the sky before Nikola roused me from my slumbers.
“Wake up,” he said; “in half an hour we must be starting. I have already given orders that the ponies should be saddled, and as we have a long stage before us we must not keep them waiting.”
So within a quarter of an hour of his calling me I was dressed and ready. A meagre breakfast of rice was immediately served to us by one of the monks, and when we had eaten it we descended to the great hall. The chief priest was there waiting for us. After a few preliminary words with Nikola he led us down the steps into the courtyard, where, beneath the shadow of the great statue of Buddha, we took an impressive farewell of him.
Having received the assurance of his consideration we made our way towards the outer gate, where our ponies and servants were standing ready for us. The gate was thrown open, and in single file we proceeded through it. Then it clanged to once more behind us, and when it had done so we had said good-bye to the Llamaserai.
During the first day's ride nothing occurred worth chronicling. We reached a small village at midday, camped there, and after a brief rest continued our journey, arriving at the fortified town of Ho-Yang-Lo just as dusk was falling. Having ascertained the principal inn, we rode up to it and engaged rooms for the night. Our first day's stage had been one of thirty-six miles, and we felt we had well earned a rest.
It was not until the evening meal was eaten and Nikola and I had retired to our own private room that I found the first real opportunity of questioning him as to what he thought of the success which had attended our efforts so far.
“To tell you the truth,” he said, “I must confess that I am surprised that we have been as successful as we have.”
“Well that man's recognising me was unfortunate, I admit; but still”
“Oh, I don't mean that at all,” said Nikola. “I look upon that as quite an outside chance. And it proved a golden opportunity in the end. What I must confess does surprise me is that I should have been accepted so blindly for the Priest of Hankow.”
“But there is one thing I can't make out,” I answered, “and that is how it comes about that, as that stick was being searched for by the Chinese in Australia, it should fail to be evident to the society in China that you are the man who stole it?”
“My dear fellow,” said Nikola, laying his hand upon my arm, “you don't surely imagine that in such a business as the present, in which I have sunk, well, if nothing else, your £20,000, I should have left anything to chance. No, sir. Chance and Dr. Nikola do not often act in concert. When I obtained that stick from Wetherell I took care that it should not be known outside the circle of a few men whom I was certain I could trust. As soon as it was in my possession I offered a large reward for it in Sydney, and I took care that the news of this reward should reach the ears of the Chinamen who were on the look out for it. Then, on the plea that I was still in search of it, I returned to China, with what result you know. What does puzzle me, however, is how it comes about that the society has not yet found out that it has been deceived. It must eventually be discovered, and it can't be very long before it is. Let us hope by that time we shall be back in civilisation again.”
I knocked the ashes out of my pipe and rolling over on my blanket looked Nikola straight in the face.
“By the time you have got to the end of this business,” I said, “your information, presuming all the time that you do get it, will have cost you close on £50,000—very possibly more; you will have endangered your own life, to say nothing of mine, and those of many others, and have run the risk of being subjected to torture and all other sorts of horrors. Do you think it is worth it?”
“My dear Bruce I would risk twice as much to attain my ends. If I did not think it worth it I should not have embarked upon it at all. You have evidently not grasped my character yet. If it became necessary for me to kill a fly I would follow that fly into the utmost parts of Asia, and spend all I possessed in the world ever the chase; but one thing is very certain, I would kill that fly.” How much more then in a matter which is as important as life itself to me?”
As I looked at him I had to confess to myself that I had not the least doubt but that he would do all he said. I was very thankful to feel that I was not the fly.