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Page 31
"No, sir!" replied the clergyman--and the change in his voice was startling.
"I am called to Nan-Yang. Only One may deter my going."
The admixture of deep spiritual reverence with intense truculence
in his voice was dissimilar from anything I ever had heard.
"Then only One can protect you," cried Smith, "for, by Heaven,
no MAN will be able to do so! Your presence in Ho-Nan
can do no possible good at present. It must do harm.
Your experience in 1900 should be fresh in your memory."
"Hard words, Mr. Smith."
"The class of missionary work which you favor, sir, is injurious
to international peace. At the present moment, Ho-Nan is
a barrel of gunpowder; you would be the lighted match.
I do not willingly stand between any man and what he chooses
to consider his duty, but I insist that you abandon your visit
to the interior of China!"
"You insist, Mr. Smith?"
"As your guest, I regret the necessity
for reminding you that I hold authority to enforce it."
Denby fidgeted uneasily. The tone of the conversation was growing harsh
and the atmosphere of the library portentous with brewing storms.
There was a short, silent interval.
"This is what I had feared and expected," said the clergyman.
"This was my reason for not seeking official protection."
"The phantom Yellow Peril," said Nayland Smith, "to-day materializes
under the very eyes of the Western world."
"The `Yellow Peril'!"
"You scoff, sir, and so do others. We take the proffered right
hand of friendship nor inquire if the hidden left holds a knife!
The peace of the world is at stake, Mr. Eltham. Unknowingly, you tamper
with tremendous issues."
Mr. Eltham drew a deep breath, thrusting both hands in his pockets.
"You are painfully frank, Mr. Smith," he said; "but I like you for it.
I will reconsider my position and talk this matter over again
with you to-morrow."
Thus, then, the storm blew over. Yet I had never
experienced such an overwhelming sense of imminent peril--
of a sinister presence--as oppressed me at that moment.
The very atmosphere of Redmoat was impregnated with
Eastern devilry; it loaded the air like some evil perfume.
And then, through the silence, cut a throbbing scream--
the scream of a woman in direst fear.
"My God, it's Greba!" whispered Mr. Eltham.
CHAPTER VIII
IN what order we dashed down to the drawing-room I cannot recall.
But none was before me when I leaped over the threshold and saw Miss
Eltham prone by the French windows.
These were closed and bolted, and she lay with hands
outstretched in the alcove which they formed. I bent over her.
Nayland Smith was at my elbow.
"Get my bag" I said. "She has swooned. It is nothing serious."
Her father, pale and wide-eyed, hovered about me, muttering incoherently;
but I managed to reassure him; and his gratitude when, I having administered
a simple restorative, the girl sighed shudderingly and opened her eyes,
was quite pathetic.
I would permit no questioning at that time, and on her father's
arm she retired to her own rooms.
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