“I hope you have everything you want,” he said in perfect English. She gave a gasp of horror, for she recognised the voice of the man in whose power she had been before. He smiled genially, reading her thoughts. “Yes,” he said, smoothing the breast of his silk jacket delicately. “I am Soo T’si, whom your friends ‘bottled up.’” There was something in that expression which had been particularly hateful to the man. His weakness lay in his vanity, perhaps, and the implied reflection upon his inability to evade the English police had rankled. “Bottled up,” he repeated, as with relish; “and now I think I have you ‘bottled up’ also.” “You must let me leave here at once,” she said. “I am sorry that cannot be done,” he replied coolly. “You see, you are not in Hoo Sin. You are in Tai Pan, which is my particular stronghold, and where I hold certain rights which you would describe as feudal. I owe you an apology,” he went on, “for telegraphing to you.” “Then it was you?” she said. He nodded. “I thought you would have guessed that. Hoo Sin is some distance,” he went on, “and I am afraid your lover is pursuing his warlike preparations in blissful ignorance of the fact that some forty _li_ away the lady of his heart is a prisoner in the hands of his worst enemy.” She made no reply. What use was there in arguing with this man? Whatever was to happen, no word of hers could move him to pity or to compassion. She must face whatever had to be faced with all the courage which God would give her in her extremity. Fortunately, Soo did not prolong his visit. He made a few enquiries as to whether she was comfortable, and left her, having first brought into the room a Chinese girl who was to act as her servant. “I have decided what I shall do with you,” was his parting speech, “and you may be sure it will be something highly entertaining.” For two long days, where every minute seemed an hour and every hour a year, she was kept prisoner in the little room under the roof of the Yamen. No indignity was offered to her. Her commands, such as did not procure greater freedom of movement, were instantly obeyed. Even her food was cooked in Western style by Soo’s own chef. They called him Ho-Lao-Ae, “the river Mandarin,” and the name of Soo T’si seemed to be unknown to them. That he was a person of the greatest importance she realised from the fear in which his servants held him. He had returned from Europe in time to quell a rebellion against his father, a rebellion which had brought about the death of his distinguished parent, and a multiplication of deaths amongst other parents not so distinguished, for Soo punished swiftly and terribly, and the execution ground outside the city walls ran red with blood as the executioner wielded his long, heavy sword. On the third night of her arrival she was awakened by the Chinese maid, who signalled to her to rise. The girl would have dressed, but the servant snatched the clothes away.