"I showed off the boat to Chung Pi. He’d eaten so many melon seeds that he wouldn’t venture on board at first; but I got him on after a bit. I only did it to heighten my importance. It was when we were going up-stream that we met a launch of Su Fing’s, and heard that the chief would be here to-night." "You didn’t fly?" "No. Chung Pi is sure to have heard of the flying boat, and he’d have smelt a rat. Why?" "I’ve just had an idea," said Errington eagerly. "Gently, old chap. I’m not at all sure that Reinhardt can’t hear if you raise your voice. What is it?" In a low tone, but with great animation, Errington explained the plan which had suddenly suggested itself. For some time the two discussed it together. It was a strange conversation, conducted under the eyes of the German, glaring at them as he lay fierce and helpless on the floor. They were interrupted by the entrance of the cook man bringing the midday meal. It was a generous repast; the cook had taken a hint from what happened at breakfast-time, and provided food in even greater variety than before. Burroughs and Errington took their chop-sticks and sat on the floor in front of the pots and pans. Errington glanced at Reinhardt. "We can’t feed while he goes hungry," he said. "Speak for yourself," said Burroughs. "I’ve not the slightest objection." "But they’ve brought grub for him. He’d better have his share." "Just like you! All right; but he’ll be a sort of skeleton at the feast." "A substantial skeleton! He won’t depress me. But it’s a rummy go, when you come to think of it." Burroughs went to the German and released him. "Some of this food is for you," he said, speaking close to Reinhardt’s ear. "Errington suggests that you should join us." He went back to his place beside Errington. For some seconds Reinhardt made no movement beyond sitting up and stretching himself, with a sullen stare at Burroughs. Then either the matter-of-fact consideration that he was hungry, or something in the humour of the situation, caused him to banish his sulks. He crossed the room, and squatted heavily opposite the Englishmen. "Whatever happens to any of us, this is certainly the last time we three are likely to have a meal together," said Errington. The situation was certainly novel. Men have sat down at table with murder in their hearts; quarrels have arisen at the board; but it is not common for two men to eat with a third whom one has just knocked down, and whose moustache the other is wearing. There was naturally a constraint upon the party--upon Errington more particularly, for he could not forget that he had once been Reinhardt’s friend, nor that he owed him money. He might suspect that the German had cheated him, but a debt is a debt. Yet to eat in silence was impossible, and presently Burroughs broke the ice. "Have some of this," he said to Reinhardt, looking into one of the pans. "I beg pardon," said Reinhardt. "I am a little hard of hearing."