"She is already out of the harbour," he said, turning to us and hooking up the telephone-receiver, "and their steam-boat is under repairs and they cannot stop her. I’ll send one of our patrol boats from here to cut her off." "My destroyers must be ready by this time," interposed Helston, "and if you will make out search warrants, I’ll catch her before she can get across to the mainland." "The warrants would take some time," answered the official, "and I should have to see the Governor. The patrol boat shall get away immediately." But for once Helston made up his mind. "Warrants or no warrants, I’ll search every junk under way to-night," he said, and strode impatiently out of the room. "I don’t care what you do, outside the harbour limits," said the Chief of Police to me as I followed Helston; "and it’s a very dark night, and no one will be any the wiser." Ho Ming coming with us, we went down to the Victoria Hotel, and after some difficulty—for all we knew of the Englishman was that he walked with a limp—found that he had not returned in time for dinner, as was his custom. Coming back from the hotel, I several times thought I could hear the pattering of soft feet behind me, though I could see no one. To reach Murray Pier, however, we had to go round the cricket ground, and as we passed along the front of it I saw two shadowy figures dart across to the trees which bordered the road at the side, and it struck me immediately that, if they meant any mischief, they might head us off there. With a sudden inspiration, I sang out to Helston, who was ahead of me, "Race you to the pier for a dollar, old chap!" and called to my coolie, "Fi tee, fi tee! You beatee him fellow lickshaw, half dollah can do." This was enough for the sporting coolies, and they raced like mad things round the corner and down the dark road. It was lucky we were going so fast, because as we came abreast the one electric light in the road, two pistol shots rang out from the shadows under the trees and then a third. One splintered through the woodwork of Helston’s rickshaw, and both our rickshaw coolies, with a yell of fright, dropped their handles, and fled for their lives. Helston tumbled head-foremost into the road at the sudden stop, though I was just able to save myself, and turning, saw a Chinaman within two yards of me levelling a pistol straight at Helston. I struck at him with my heavy malacca stick, and caught him on the wrist just as he fired again, the pistol rolling into the mud. [Illustration: I STRUCK AT HIM WITH MY HEAVY MALACCA STICK] I grabbed at it, and the Chinaman fled into the shadows. Helston scrambled to his feet, and we both jumped behind trees, the policeman on duty at the pier rushing towards us with his revolver in his hand and blowing his whistle lustily.