“His Excellency says that he has just discovered that these men were arrested last night by his guards with contraband concealed upon their persons, and when tortured confessed to having attempted to blow in the gates of the American mission, and that he will punish them in our presence as a warning to his people,” Langdon announced loudly, then lowering his voice, he whispered hurriedly to Commander Hughes: “I don’t like the looks of it, sir; a moment ago he knew nothing of it, and now he claims to have the culprits; it seems strange.” “Hold!” cried Commander Hughes, starting to his feet; “we must have proof that these are the right men; we want no useless executions.” For he knew only too well that this form of punishment was the one dear to the Chinese heart, and he could read upon the faces of the crowd that it was waiting joyfully to see these human heads severed from their bodies and doubtless had been promised this stirring sport. Langdon translated his captain’s wish hastily to the viceroy, but the mandarin turned a deaf ear, raising his thin, veined hand with its claw-like nails as a sign to proceed with the gruesome work. A muscular Chinaman, naked save for a loin cloth, stepped from the ranks of the soldiers brandishing a sharp curved sword, and moved quickly to the side of the kneeling prisoners. Commander Hughes and his colleagues started precipitately toward him as if to prevent him from carrying out his murderous intentions. Phil saw the bright blade circle above the head of a terrified prisoner and then descend. He closed his eyes in horror to shut out the appalling sight. A report of a pistol shot rang out deafeningly, and he opened his eyes to a view of Langdon with a smoking revolver in his hand, while the executioner lay on the sand beside his victim. [Illustration: _A PISTOL SHOT RANG OUT_] CHAPTER VI DIPLOMACY FAILS “I guessed as much!” the pilot cried out, striding forward; the guards timidly giving way before his menacing revolver. “These men are Christian converts; it’s but a trick to make us lose face before this rabble.” He reached the side of the prisoners and raised one to his feet. Phil watched with fascinated gaze as Langdon dragged forward excitedly the chained and terrified men who had been plucked from death by the timely and unerring shot of the American; there was something strangely familiar in the ashen features of one of them. “This man is a mess attendant from the ‘Phœnix!’” Langdon exclaimed, pointing to the nearer of the two prisoners; “the trick was to execute them before our eyes before we could interfere.” Both Commander Hughes and Phil saw at once that the pilot was right; there was the ward-room servant who had been missing since the day of the gunboat’s arrival; he was a Chinaman from a distant province and unable to speak the local dialect, and in consequence had been singled out as a victim by the scheming officials.