“Great mandarin,” said one of the three who had not spoken. “We are servants of others, and it is said that ‘the wise servant is dumb when the bamboo falls and dumb till he dies, when he is dumb for ever.’” The tall man nodded. “You shall give me your _hong_ that I may know you,” he said. After a little hesitation, the man who was evidently the leader, took a little ivory cylinder from his pocket, and unscrewed it so that it came into two equal portions. The cylinder was no larger than a thick pencil and less than two inches long. One half was made up of an inking pad and at the end of the other was a tiny circular stamp. Captain Talham held out the palm of his hand and the other impressed upon it the tiny Chinese character which stood for his name. One by one his fellows followed suit, though they knew that death might be the result of their disclosure. The tall man examined the name carefully. “‘Noble Child,’” he read, “‘Hope of the Spring,’ and ‘Star above the Yamen.’” He nodded his head. “You may go,” said he; and with two little jerky bows the men turned and walked quickly in the direction from whence they had come. He had time now to observe the girl, a grave and bewildered spectator of the scene. She was a little above medium height, and slight. Her hair was bronze-red and her face singularly beautiful. The skin was clear and white--so white as almost to suggest fragility. Her eyes were big and grey, and the two curved eyebrows, so sharp of line as to recall the pencilled brows which the mid-Victorian poet popularised, were dark, and contrasted with the glowing glory of the hair above. The nose was inclined to be retroussé, and the lips were faultless in shape and a warm red. She presented the effect which the beautifiers of the world strive to attain, yet fail, for here nature had, in some mysterious fashion, blended all colourings in a harmony. She was well dressed, expensively so. Her simple gown suggested the studied simplicity which has made one Paris house famous the world over; and there was luxury in the furs about her throat and in the huge muff which was suspended with one hand. “I don’t know how to thank you,” she began; and indeed she was in some embarrassment, for whilst he was obviously a gentleman, he was as obviously a very poor gentleman. He smiled and there was good comradeship and the ease which begets friendship in the brief glimpse of even white teeth. “In this world,” he said, with no apparent effort at oratory, “existence is made tolerable by opportunity, and no aspect of opportunity is so coveted as that which afforded a gentleman to secure the safety, the peace of mind, or the happiness of a lady.”