“I ask about that. The rebels have cross the river from Wu Chang to Han Yang, but they have not yet reach the railway. That comes into Hankow from this side.” “Even so,” he mused, “the train service from Peking must have broken down. Though they're running troop trains south, of course.” “I haven't tol' you all of it.” Her voice was low and unsteady. “This eunuch, Chang Yuan-fu, is ordered, by the empress, to take me to Peking too. They are all whispering about it. The empress is angry at my foreign ways, and will marry me to a Manchu duke. She di'n' like it when my father tol' her I mus' marry no man I di'n' choose myself.... I think you ough' to smile.” Mechanically he obeyed. “It seems almos' funny.” murmured Miss Hui. “Sometimes I can no' believe tha' such a thing could happen. When I think of America an' England and all the worl' we know to-day, I can no' believe that such wicked things can happen.” It was anything but unreal to Doane. He knew too well that America and England, even all the white peoples, make up but a fraction of the inhabitants of this strange earth. His eyes filled again as he considered the possible--yes, the probable fate of the lovely girl at his side. In such a time of disorganization the reckless Manchu woman at Peking could do much. Chang might lose his head at the sound of gunfire in Han Yang and fly back to the capital, or he might not. A capable and corrupt eunuch would run heavy risks to gain such a prize. For a huge prize the viceroy's collection would indeed be; many of the priceless stones and paintings would never reach the throne. The thought came of trying to persuade her to save herself; a thought that was as promptly discarded. She would not leave her father while he lived. He, of course, would not take his own life elsewhere than in his ancestral home. And to that home, with his inevitable escort of underlings and soldiers, was hurrying--if not already there--this Chang Yuan-fu, one of those powerfully venomous creatures that have figured darkly at intervals in the history of China. Doane spoke low and quickly: “Can you find out when Chang's train left Peking, Miss Hui?” “No, I have try ver' har' to learn. I think they don' know that. It is so importan' to know that, too, because my father”--Her voice faltered. Doane once again, with a swift glance to left and right, took her hand and, for a brief moment, gripped it firmly. “You haven' yet spoken to my father?” “Not yet, dear Miss Hui.... you must smile!.... I have found it very difficult to think out a way of approaching him. Your father is a great viceroy. He might take it ill that I should venture to interfere in what he would feel to be the supreme sacred act of his life. He might”--Doane hesitated--“even for you he might feel that he couldn't turn back.” “I know,” she said, very low. “I have thought of tha', too. But they shall never take me to Peking.”