leaving the club, the rickshá coolie proceeded in the opposite direction to that which browne had followed, when in search of the gentleman to whom he had presented the letter of introduction. at first, and while he remained in the queen’s road, there was but little difference to be observed; the thoroughfare was a fine one, broad and commodious. after one or two turnings, however, matters changed somewhat, and he found himself in a labyrinth of narrow, tortuous streets, the shops on either side of which were small and mean, the names over the doors being for the most part in the celestial characters. the confusion that existed in the streets was indescribable. here the mongolian was to be seen in all his glory. but, in addition to the chinamen, almost every nationality known to the asiatic world was represented; while through it all, towering head and shoulders above the crowd, stalked the stately sikhs on patrol duty. at last, after a drive that had occupied perhaps a quarter of an hour, the coolie drew up, before what was probably the largest shop browne had yet seen in the neighbourhood. it was built in the chinese fashion, and, in order that west and east may meet on an equal footing, had two names over the door, one in chinese writing, the other plainly printed in english characters: “johann schmidt.” browne alighted, and, having told his coolie to wait, entered the shop. he was greeted on the threshold by a stout chinaman, who was plainly in charge.
“what for you piecee look see?” inquired the latter.
browne, not being adept at pidgin-english, replied to the effect that he desired to see and speak with herr schmidt. whether the man comprehended or not he could not tell; at any rate he left him alone in the shop, while he disappeared behind a curtain at the farther end. when he returned, a few seconds later, he was accompanied by a portly individual, whose nationality the veriest tyro could not mistake. as if to make it doubly sure, he carried in his hand an enormous pipe fashioned after the pattern of the fatherland. his face was large and almost spherical; his hair was close-cropped, as was his beard; he was attired in white trousers, a flannel shirt, which would have been none the worse for a wash, and a black alpaca coat. the teutonic stolidity was certainly well developed in him. on seeing browne he stopped and sucked contentedly at his pipe, but said nothing. the younger man was the first to speak.
“you are herr schmidt, i believe?” said browne, in english. the other nodded his head, but still did not venture upon speech. “i bring a letter of introduction to you,” said browne, dropping his voice a little, as though he were afraid of being overheard. “it is from a certain herr otto sauber, whom i met in paris about two months ago. he told me that you would do all you could for me in a certain matter.”
“herr sauber?” inquired the german. “i cannot dink that i am mit him acquainted.”
browne’s disappointment was plainly discernible on his face. he had fully expected that, immediately he presented the letter sauber had given him, this mysterious johann schmidt would understand and arrange everything. this, however, did not appear to be the case. the man before him sucked stolidly at his pipe, and watched him with eyes that had no expression in them. the position was embarrassing, to say the least of it. was it possible that his mission was going to prove futile after all, and that, for the good he was to get out of it, he might just as well not have wasted his time by calling at hong-kong at all? for upwards of thirty most uncomfortable seconds the two men stood watching each other. then browne spoke.
“you are quite sure, i suppose,” he asked, “that you do not know the gentleman in question? i certainly understood from him that you had been acquainted with each other for many years.”
the german shook his head. then he said slowly, “perhaps, mein frien, if you would mit me come, i will talk mit you ubon the madder. so many men do say dot they know johann schmidt. but johann do not know dem. if you to mine office would come, we will talk mit each other dere.”
browne accordingly followed him behind the curtain to which i have alluded. there he found, to his surprise, a most comfortable and, i might almost add, luxurious apartment. the walls were hung with pictures of considerable merit, interspersed with innumerable curios, collected from almost every country in the farther east. in any other place the room might have ranked as a fairly noteworthy apartment; but here, surrounded by so much that was sordid — nay, almost barbaric — it was little short of unique. pointing to a long bamboo chair which fitted a corner beneath an enormous cantonese dragon, used for burning pastilles, the german bade browne seat himself. before the latter did so, however, he handed the german the letter with which herr sauber had furnished him. the other took it, cut the flap of the envelope with a jade paper-knife, and, drawing forth the contents, placed an enormous pair of spectacles upon his nose, and read them thoroughly. upwards of five minutes had elapsed between the time browne had given him the letter until he spoke again. these long delays were having a bad effect upon the young man’s temper; they strained his nerves to breaking-pitch. he felt that this phlegmatic individual would not hurry himself, even if another’s existence depended upon it. to all intents and purposes he had united in his person the apathy of the asiatic with the stolidity of the teuton.
“now dat i look ubon it, i do remember herr sauber,” the other replied. “it was once dat we very good friends were, but it is many years dat i heard of him.” the old fellow wagged his head solemnly until his glasses shook upon his nose. the recollection of the incident, whatever it was, seemed to afford him considerable satisfaction, though why it should have done so was by no means apparent to browne.
“but with regard to what he says in the letter?” the young man at last exclaimed in desperation. “will you be able to help me, do you think?”
“ah! i know noddings about dat,” answered schmidt. “i do not understand what dis business is. if it is chinese silk, or curios, or gondiments of any kind, den i know what you want. dere is no one on dis island can subbly you so goot as johann schmidt.”
browne did not know what to say. for his own sake he knew that it would not be safe to broach such a delicate subject to a man, like the one seated before him, whose only idea in life seemed to be to cross one fat leg over the other and to fill and smoke his pipe until the room was one large tobacco-cloud, unless he was quite certain of that person’s identity with the individual, to whom he had been directed to apply.
“to put the matter in a nutshell,” said browne, lowering his voice a little in order that it should not carry farther than the man seated before him, “i understood from herr sauber that if any one happened to have a friend, who had the misfortune to be compelled to stay rather longer in a certain place, than was quite conducive to his health or peace of mind, by applying to you an arrangement might possibly be made, whereby his release might be effected.”
herr schmidt for the first time took the pipe out of his mouth and looked at him. “bardon, mein frien, but i do not understand what is meant by dat speech,” he replied. “if de place, where dat frien of yours is living, is not to his health suited, why does not he elsewhere go?”
though browne felt morally certain that the man understood what he meant, he did not feel justified in speaking more plainly at the moment. he had to feel his way before he definitely committed himself. however, a little reflection was sufficient to show him, that it would be impossible to make any progress at all unless he spoke out, and that even in the event of his doing so, he would not be placing himself in any way in the other’s power. he accordingly resolved upon a line of action.
“the truth of the matter is, herr schmidt,” he began, leaning a little forward, and speaking with all the emphasis of which he was master, “i happen to have a friend who is at the present time confined on a certain island. he is in delicate health, and his friends are anxious to get him away. now, i have been informed that, if suitable terms can be arranged, it would be possible for you to effect this escape. is this so?”
“mine goot frien,” returned the german, “let me tell you dat you speak too plain. the words dat you talk mit me would make trouble mit my friens de police. besides, dere is no esgaping from der jail ubon dis island.”
“i did not say anything about the jail upon this island,” retorted browne; “the place i mean is a very long way from here.”
“well then, noumea, perhaps?”
“no, not noumea,” answered browne. “if i am to enter into more explanations, i might say that my friend is a russian, and that he is also a political prisoner.” he stopped and watched herr schmidt’s face anxiously. the latter was sitting bolt upright in his chair, with a fat hand resting on either knee; his spectacles were pushed on to the top of his head, and his long pipe was still in his mouth. not a sign escaped him to show that he understood.
“i dink dat mein old comrade, herr sauber, must have been drunken mit too much schnapps when he talk mit you. what should johann schmidt have to do mit russian bolitical brisoners? his piziness is mit de curios of china, mit silk, rice, ginger, but not mit de tings you do speak to him about.”
“then i am to understand that you can do nothing to help me?” said browne, rising from his chair as if to take leave.
“for mineself it is not possible,” returned the other, with great deliberation. “but since you are a frien of mein old comrade sauber, den i tink over tings and gause inquiries to be made. dis a very strange work is, and dere are many men in it. i do not tell you dat it gannot be done, but it will be difficult. perhaps dere may be a man to be found who will gommunicate mit your friend.”
the meaning of this speech was perfectly clear to him. in plain english, it, of course, meant that, while herr schmidt was not going to commit himself, he would find some one else who would.
“i should be under a life-long obligation if you would do so,” answered browne. “and what is more, i may as well say now i am not afraid to pay handsomely for the service rendered.”
this time there was a twinkle to be seen in the german’s eye. “i know noddings at all about what you speak; you will remember dot,” continued he. “but i will do de best i can. if you write me now on a paper de name of your frien, and de place where he is — what shall we say? — now staying, i will let you know what de price would be, and when der work can be done. it will be-how you call it? — a ready-money transaction.”
“i desire it to be so,” replied browne a little shortly.
there was silence between them for a few moments. then schmidt inquired where browne’s yacht was anchored. browne informed him; and as he did so, it struck him that this was a rather curious remark upon his companion’s part, if, as he had led him to believe at the beginning of the interview, he knew nothing whatever about his coming to hong-kong. however, he did not comment upon it.
“dat is goot, den,” said schmidt. “if i find a man who will run de risk, den i will gommunicate mit you before den o’clock to-night.”
browne thanked him; and, feeling that they had reached the end of the interview, bade him good-bye and passed through the shop out into the street once more. his coolie was still seated on the shafts of his rickshá; and, when browne had mounted, they returned at a smart trot, by the way they had come, to the club. here he found his friends awaiting him. they had done the sights of the city, and were now eager to get back to the yacht once more.
