"It is very unusual for junks to come down here from Amoy," interposed Ho Ming, glancing keenly from one to the other, and hardly able to restrain his impatience at Sang’s apparent indifference or his comprador’s stolidity. "Those junks are probably full of explosives, and it would be an easy thing to float them up against any of Helston’s ships in the harbour and blow them up. We must do something—we must! Why, the ships may be here any time!" "My dear Ming," smiled Ping Sang, waving a fat deprecating finger and settling himself more comfortably in his chair, "we must not excite ourselves—that’s the only thing we can do at present. We’ve not the faintest reason for suspecting either the Englishman or his junks; still, we may be able to do some little thing." "I think it might be wise, just for the sake of curiosity, to burn those junks." "But think of the law—English law; we are not in China now. (’Thank goodness’, or the equivalent in Chinese, piously muttered the comprador). We can’t bribe the magistrates here; and think of the risk and the punishment." "Well, well," continued Ping Sang soothingly, "we won’t do it to-night. To-morrow I’ll try and get a look at this Englishman—I may know him and he may know me. Have you seen him yourself, Tsi?" he asked. "Is there anything peculiar about him?" "No, sir; but the man who saw him go aboard at Aberdeen says he limped badly," answered A Tsi. "A limp had he? Well, I rather fancy I shall know him, and I rather fancy he would know me," drawled Ping Sang, "though I’ll take good care he doesn’t recognize me!" * * * * * On each side of the entrance to the Victoria Hotel is generally a motley row of coolies squatting at the edge of the pavement with their mat trays containing sweetmeats, matches, or sugar-canes for sale among the rickshaw men who come and go. Among these, next morning, was a fat old man in a dirty pair of blue trousers, with a dirty blue tunic tied round his naked shoulders, clamouring for purchasers as he fanned a swarm of flies off his sugar-canes with his broad mat hat. This was Ping Sang, and all the while he kept his eyes glued on the hotel entrance. He had bribed a coolie to give him his place for the day, and there he squatted in this extremely uncomfortable position. Sportsman as he was, with all his love of luxury, he never did anything by halves, and there he stayed on the chance of seeing the lame Englishman, whilst the sweat ran down his back, and even the morning sun blistered it.