"My dear boy, it's too hot. No speeches."
But Rudolph's emotion would not be hindered.
"This afternoon," he persisted, with tragic voice and eyes, "this afternoon I nearly was killed."
"So was I.--Which seems to meet that." And Heywood pulled free.
"Oh," cried Rudolph, fervently. "I know! I feel--If you knew what I--My life--"
The weary stoic in the blue kimono eyed him very coldly, then plucked him by the sleeve.--"Come here, for a bit."
Both men leaned from the window into the hot, airless night. A Chinese rebeck wailed, monotonous and nasal. Heywood pointed at the moon, which now hung clearly above the copper haze.
"The moon," replied his friend, wondering.
"Good.--You know, I was afraid you might just see Rudie Hackh."
The rebeck wailed a long complaint before he added:--
"If I didn't like you fairly well--The point is--Good old Cynthia! That bally orb may not see one of us to-morrow night, next week, next quarter. 'Through this same Garden, and for us in vain.' Every man Jack. Let me explain. It will make you better company."
"Rigmarole?" drawled Heywood, and abstained from glancing at Chantel. "Dare say. However, Gilly, their rigmarole _may_ mean business. On that supposition, I made my notes urgent to you chaps."
"Quite right," said Mr. Forrester, tugging his gray moustache, and studying the floor. "Obviously. Rigmarole or not, your plan is thoroughly sound: stock one house, and if the pinch comes, fortify."
Chantel drummed on Heywood's long table, and smiled quaintly, with eyes which roved out at window, and from mast to bare mast of the few small junks that lay moored against the distant bank. He bore himself, to-day, like a lazy cock of the walk. The rest of the council, Nesbit, Teppich, Sturgeon, Kempner, and the great snow-headed padre, surrounded the table with heat-worn, thoughtful faces. When they looked up, their eyes went straight to Heywood at the head; so that, though deferring to his elders, the youngest man plainly presided.
Chantel turned suddenly, merrily, his teeth flashing in a laugh.
"If we are then afraid, let us all take a jonc down the river," he scoffed, "or the next vessel for Hongkong!"
Gilly's tired, honest eyes saw only the plain statement.
"Impossible." He shook his bullet head. "We can't run away from a rumor, you know. Can we, now? The women, perhaps. But we should lose face no end--horribly."