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They followed the route which they had taken before when Shun-Hi had led them to the staff entrance of General Huan’s house. But tonight the streets were not thronged. In one quarter a fringe of which touched their route they could see in adjoining streets lighted lanterns, and hear barbaric music, but it was soon left behind.

Once clear of the outskirts of the town, two working men and their moon-shadows alone walked the highway.

There was something melancholy in the empty countryside, in the breathless silence, which bred in Tony’s mind a sense of foreboding. In his long journey by land and water, before he had met Moon Flower, he had known many such lonely nights; but they had not created quite the same impression of impending harm. Nayland Smith had been silent for some time. Suddenly he spoke.

“Your automatic is ready, I take it, McKay?”

And the words suggested to Tony that Sir Denis was victim of a similar depression.

“Yes, sure.”

“So’s my revolver. Always want to be prepared.”

Tony was possessed by an urgent desire to talk, and so, “You said you had cleared the course,” he went on, trying to speak lightly. “To which part of the course did you refer?”

“The last hundred yards,” Nayland Smith said, and fell silent again.

Twenty paces on, he stopped suddenly, grasped Tony’s arm. “Listen!”

Tony stood stock-still, and listened. He could hear nothing.

“What did you think you heard?” he asked in a hushed voice.

“Someone behind us. But there’s no one in sight.”

But, as they resumed their march, Tony knew that the shadow which had fallen upon his spirits had also touched Nayland Smith.

They reached the point where they had turned into the poppy field, but now kept to the highroad. Soon, they were on the path into which Shim-Hi and her friends had gone, and deep in the shadow of the cypresses. Tony’s spirits sank even lower in the darkness,

Nayland Smith pulled up, detained him with a touch.

A weird, plaintive wail rose on the night—died away.

“Stupid of me,” Sir Denis rapped. “For one unpleasant moment I thought it was a dacoit. Night hawk!”

They came to the lane bordering the high wall. Nayland Smith looked swiftly to right and left before stepping out. That side on which they stood, opposite the wall, lay in shadow. “All clear. Come on!”

Almost silent in their straw sandals they moved on nearer to the door in the wall. In the shade of the banyan tree, Nayland Smith turned aside, plunging into undergrowth. Tony followed. He was completely at a loss until Sir Denis produced a flashlamp and shone a light on to the tangled roots of the great tree.

“Look!”

And Tony looked; was astounded by what he saw.

A long, slender bamboo ladder lay there!

“Always glad to learn from the enemy, McKay. This clears the course from here to the laboratory, where Cameron-Gordon is waiting for us!”

“You still have me guessing.”

Nayland Smith laughed. “This ladder is light enough for a child to carry. It’s long enough to reach the top of General Huan’s wall. It’s strong enough to support a man of reasonable weight. We’re both lean specimens. All clear?”

“So far, all clear. But where did you get it?”

“I found a friendly carpenter. Told him I was a gardener employed in a place where there were tall trees to be pruned. He had the ladder ready by evening. I collected it, and carried it halfway to the governor’s house, where I parked it in a clump of bamboos. Quite impossible to spot from the road. Early next morning, when no one was about, I carried it here.”

He dragged the light ladder from the out-flung roots of the tree.

“I get it!” Tony spoke excitedly.

“What a frozen dacoit can do, we can do!”

They returned to the lane. Tony carrying the ladder on his shoulder. “I have to look out for the peach tree?”

“Right. Go ahead. I want to keep an eye on the lane behind.”

Tony tramped on. Promise of action blew aside the cloud of foreboding which had crept over him. And soon, against the bright sky, he saw peach blossom peeping over the wall, to awaken a memory of a Japanese water-color painting.

“All clear,” Nayland Smith rapped. “Set the ladder up, McKay.”

Tony found a spot among the weeds at the foot of the wall where he could make the base of the ladder firm, and gingerly maneuvered its delicate frame into place.

“All ready”

“Stand by, McKay. I must make sure that the trellis is strong enough to be safe. We may want to retire in a hurry!”

Nayland Smith went up the ladder with an agility surprising in a man no longer young. Tony watched, breathless with excitement. Sir Denis climbed over the wall and began to climb down on the other side. When his head was level with the pink blossom:

“Follow on,” he instructed. “Safe as an oak staircase!”

“Do I leave the ladder?”

“No choice, McKay. If it’s moved, we’ll have to drop from the wall.”

Tony was up in a count of seconds; looked over the top. He saw a well-planted orchard, pear trees, plum, and other fruits. Nayland Smith stood below.

“A wire frame, clamped to the wall. Perpendicular but safe.”

Tony swung his leg over, found a stout branch and scrambled down.

“What’s our direction. Sir Denis?”

“Not quite sure. Must get my bearings.”

Nayland Smith stood there, in the shadow of the wall, tugging at his ear.

“Shun-Hi tried to explain the location of the laboratory.”

“She did. And it’s clear in my mind, now. Follow on.”

* * *

They had to make a wide detour around the house. The property was landscaped as a pleasure garden, with lily ponds and streams of running water; with miniature waterfalls amid a blaze of rockery flowers. In moonlight it was entrancing, but Tony felt more concern about sticking to the shadows than admiration of the many beauties of the garden.

The laboratory, when at last they sighted it, proved to be partly screened in a grove of orange trees. This was all to the good. It was an ugly building evidently of recent construction; a long, narrow hut, but much larger than Tony had visualized.

“We have to show ourselves in the moonlight to reach the orange trees, which frightens me,” Nayland Smith said. “But at this point we’re not in view from the house.”

“There isn’t a light in the house,” Tony pointed out.

“That’s what frightens me. Let’s make a dash for it!”

They raced across the moon bright patch and into the shadow of the trees.

Two windows of the laboratory building were lighted; a small one near the door; a larger at the side of the hut. Tony pushed forward. But Nayland Smith stood still, looking back, listening. He said nothing, but joined Tony on a narrow path which led to the door.

He rapped on the panels. The light in the window disappeared. The door was opened, and a man in a white coat peered out.

“Smith!”

“Cameron-Gordon!”

“Quick! Come in! Who’s with you?”

“Tony McKay, one of us.”

They entered in darkness. The door was closed again and a light sprang up.

* * *

Tony saw a tiny room, with a table and two chairs, such as Shun-Hi had described. The man in the white coat spoke hoarsely:

“Thank God you found me, Smith! I didn’t know you were in China. And God bless Jeanie for getting my message through! I didn’t want to show a light when I opened the door. I never know when I’m watched.”