“Yes, sir,” Langdon answered earnestly, lowering his voice so as not to be heard by any save the captain; “they were in an ugly mood, and if I am not mistaken they were acting under orders from the yamen; otherwise the rabble wouldn’t have dared molest us. If we don’t keep our feet on their necks, they’ll make short work of every foreigner in the Yangtse Valley.” After a few minutes more of waiting the inner doors were thrown open and the naval men were ushered into the second courtyard, and then through more doors to the council-chamber of the viceroy. Here they found Chang-Li-Hun and his advisers ready to receive them. Commander Hughes advanced toward the viceroy and bowed ceremoniously; the ancient Chinaman clasped his hands in front of him and murmured a few monosyllables in his own language, after which all were seated. Phil found his place between Langdon and a Chinaman, while Commander Hughes sat at the viceroy’s left, the seat of honor in the dragon kingdom. The silence was undisturbed for several minutes, during which time the lad gazed covertly about him. He noticed the sphinx-like face of the high mandarin, whose power was as far-reaching as even the empress dowager’s, to whom he acknowledged allegiance but gave it grudgingly. This wizened old man had the power of life and death over nearly twenty million human beings. If he so willed, he could order any of his subjects to be brought to the execution grounds and chop their heads off with as little feeling as one would have in beheading a chicken. The midshipman’s eyes traveled in turn over each face of the viceroy’s advisers, men of great promise in the empire; they represented the enlightened few governing with iron rods a people who are yet stifled in the superstitions and customs of medieval times. Through the open door, the lad caught a glimpse of Chinese guards; their blue tunics similar to the one he had stripped from the back of the Chinaman at the mission gate. Finally the silence was broken by the high-pitched voice of the aged viceroy in his own staccato language. Phil believed he could read both anger and contempt in the tones of the mandarin’s voice. After he had spoken there was a moment’s silence, then a voice was raised in perfect English. Phil gasped in surprise as he beheld the speaker; a Chinaman seated on the right hand of the viceroy. There was not a trace of the accent which he had believed was habitual with every Chinaman who learns the English tongue. “His Excellency, Chang-Li-Hun, thanks the high naval commanders for the honor of this visit and desires to hear their requests,” the interpreting Chinaman announced. “Give our compliments to his Excellency,” replied Commander Hughes without a second’s hesitation, “and say that the time has long passed for requests. We come now to demand that our countrymen be protected, in accordance with the sacred word of China given by treaty.”