The General dropped his eyes and bent his head. Megan saw he was undergoing a deep humiliation; that this generosity, because he had been unable to admit its existence, was cutting him to the quick. She wanted him to be so humiliated and so wounded. She wanted him to be smitten, as by a scorching bolt, with this unlooked-for example of a generosity that not all her words or those of Doctor Strike had been able to convince him of. Not their words, not even the obvious trend of their lives, had touched him. Now, strangely, Mr. Shultz had been made the instrument. Mr. Shultz was not the man she would have chosen. This particular quality was perhaps the only estimable one he possessed, but he had presented it nevertheless, flawless, intact, indisputable as a diamond. "We'd better make straight for the bay," he said. "The railroad won't be possible. Where's your car, General?" "About a quarter of a mile up the road. The officer who just came drove from the arsenal in it. He left it there in case the yamen was already in their hands." "Will he take it away?" "No, he won't want to be caught in it." "Then if we get going, it may still be there. It is our only chance I'd say." "And at the bay, what then?" "There is my launch. I leave it in a different place every few days. They're not apt to know where and only the sampan will be at the landing, a sampan like any other. To-night it should be at the landing where they load the junks of contraband rice." "Can the launch get us down the bay?" "I think so. Anyway, it can get us away from here." "Well, let us go then." Mr. Shultz went over to the door of a small closet used as a pantry. He opened it and disclosed the boy who served their drinks, asleep under shelves laden with bottles. Mr. Shultz shook him until he woke, then taking him by the shoulder propelled him across the room to the phonograph. He took the first record he came to and put it on the machine, turned the crank and adjusted the needle. The bright and alien Italian magic vibrated once more through the Chinese room. "You keep this going. Must wantche walkee, savvy?" The boy nodded and leaned anxiously over the instrument. "Another round before we go?" asked Mr. Shultz, coming back to the table. "Have a little Dutch courage, General? Miss Davis?" He looked over the litter of glasses, cards, and trays full of cigarettes and ashes. Then he poured himself a swallow of brandy and gulped it down. His eyes fell on Captain Li again. "Come on, big boy, and just remember, whatever happens to us now happens to you too." He jerked Captain Li out of his chair. The General said a few words in Chinese to him and Mr. Shultz pushed him forward. The General caught his arm. "If you'll follow me," he said to Mr. Shultz and Megan, "I think it would be better to go out this way."