Читать книгу Patrick O’Brian 3-Book Adventure Collection: The Road to Samarcand, The Golden Ocean, The Unknown Shore - Patrick O’Brian - Страница 9

‘So what?’ snapped Hsien Lu.

‘Is Mr Ross here?’ asked Derrick. ‘My uncle and Mr Ross have been looking for you.’

‘What you mean?’ said Hsien Lu, narrowing his eyes.

‘Mr Ross –’ began Derrick.

‘Sandy Loss? You know Sandy Loss?’ cried Hsien Lu. ‘You say Loss? The pilate, live Canton-side one time?’

Why is he talking pidgin-English? wondered Derrick. Then he remembered that he himself had cried out in that language first. ‘Yes, I know Mr Ross – Sandy Ross –’ he replied, in Chinese, ‘he is my uncle’s partner. But he is not a pirate.’

Hsien Lu stood up and came round the table. He was still appallingly ugly, but the wicked look had gone out of his face. He pulled up a chair and sat staring in Derrick’s face. ‘You are Sullivan’s nephew,’ he said at last, searching in his memory. ‘What is your name?’

‘Derrick.’

‘Dellick. That’s right.’ The Tu-chun smiled and clapped his hands for tea. ‘But how do you come to speak Chinese?’ he asked, with a sudden return of suspicion.

‘My parents were missionaries,’ explained Derrick: he was feeling suddenly very weary, and he wanted above all to ask for the Professor to be taken care of; but the Tu-chun went on, ‘Where is Loss?’

‘In Liao Meng, I think – but please could I go and see to my cousin? He was hit on the head. He is an old, learned man, and he was hit on the head like a – like a beast,’ cried Derrick, with a sudden burst of rage at the memory of it.

Hsien Lu murmured a quick order, and two officers hurried from the tent. ‘Never mind,’ he said to Derrick, ‘he will be looked after. Now tell me where they started from, and where they were going.’

Derrick had lived in China nearly all his life: he knew that he would never be able to sit down in the presence of an elder, let alone a Tu-chun, however weary and faint he might be, so he gathered his wits, concentrated his attention, and answered Hsien Lu’s questions as clearly and as briefly as he could. The war-lord went on and on; he wanted to know a great deal, and Derrick had to stifle gigantic yawns. Soon he was conscious of the Tu-chun’s voice alone, coming as from a great distance: he jerked himself into wakefulness, and answered ‘Yes’ at haphazard. He kept himself alert for some time, but then again the voice went booming on: it was somewhere in the distance, and it seemed to be stating that Ross and Sullivan had blown up four competing pirate junks in the harbour of Pu Ying itself, the stronghold of the society of the Everlasting Wrong: but that might have been a dream; it came and went in snatches, and in another moment Derrick was fast asleep where he stood.

He woke up suddenly, and it was the morning. He was in a strange bed, and for some time he could not remember where he was. Li Han stood beside him, offering a cup of tea: on the other side of the tent Professor Ayrton lay on a comfortable palliasse, already sipping at a bowl of tea. His head was bandaged, but he seemed quite recovered. He nodded to Derrick and said, ‘Good morning, my boy. How do you feel?’

‘Fine, thank you, sir. How is your head?’

‘It spins like a teetotum, but it appears to be whole, which is a blessing. I must admit, however, that I deserved the blow. I am afraid that my ill-timed enthusiasm for the abbot’s stelae overruled my caution. We might easily have been caught by Shun Chi instead of the excellent Hsien Lu, and then we should have been in a pretty mess, as I believe the phrase goes. What a deserving man the Tu-chun appears to be: he came to me by candle-light to offer his compliments and excuses, and he assured me that if it would afford me the slightest pleasure he would arrange to have the soldier who was so impetuous with his rifle-butt tortured to death in front of this tent at sunrise, together with the officer. He seemed quite disappointed when I declined the entertainment, but I made up for it by complimenting him on his English – which he appears to have picked up in the Philippines, by the way – and by telling him that of all the military men I had ever met in China he was by far the most swollen guy. It gratified him very much.’

‘I’m sure it did, sir,’ said Derrick, taking his tea. ‘How did you get here, Li Han?’

‘During arbitrary arrest of worthy sage,’ said Li Han, bowing towards the Professor. ‘I imitated humble but cautious earthworm in nook, or cranny, of temple wall, and subsequently pursued brutal and licentious soldiery at discreet distance for more than twenty li. On perceiving honourable welcome accorded by Tu-chun when all was understood, ventured to insinuate self into tent and proclaim humble presence.’

Hsien Lu hurried into the tent; he was so moved that he could hardly complete the long drawn-out ceremonial greetings before he said, ‘Shun Chi has taken Ross and Sullivan. They were ambushed on the way to Liao-Meng. I must go and give orders. If you have any charms, Ayrton lao-yeh, use them now.’ He hurried away.

There was a profound silence.

‘What do you think will happen, sir?’ asked Derrick, at last.

‘I hesitate to think,’ replied the Professor, seriously. ‘This Shun Chi hates all foreigners, except for the Russian agitators who are egging him on to clear China of all Europeans and Americans. It is just possible that he will hold them to ransom, but …’ his voice tailed away uncertainly.

‘Will Hsien Lu be able to smash Shun Chi’s army?’

‘No. That is the worst aspect of the whole affair. Shun Chi has already driven Hsien Lu out of Liao-Meng. Formerly Hsien Lu could cope with him, but recently Shun Chi has received modern arms from the Russians, together with military advisers and experts in the use of the new weapons; whereas Hsien Lu has to rely on old-fashioned rifles and the usual Chinese tactics of wearing hideous masks in battle and letting off crackers. He cannot possibly face Shun Chi’s machine-guns. And now they say that Shun Chi has three tanks, and that he is advancing with them to bring matters to a decisive close.’

‘I suppose they took us for Russians when they captured us.’

‘Yes. That was why they were so unpleasant. Hsien Lu has captured one – he is going to cut off his head this afternoon.’

‘Couldn’t you beg him off?’

‘I doubt it. And after all, the man has asked for it. It seems to me a very wicked thing to bring modern arms into this part of the world to enable this rascal Shun Chi to slaughter anyone who opposes his ambitions. Before these Russians came the Tu-chun and the rebels were comparatively harmless: they more or less played at war, and very rarely killed anybody. The armies used to take the field with umbrellas and tea-pots, and they would stop the battle if it came on to rain. But now it is all different: there is really savage warfare breaking out, and thousands of innocent people are going to be murdered.’

‘Why do they do it?’

‘They have ends of their own to serve. I have a mind to question this prisoner: he might give us some useful information. If the Tu-chun will promise me his life I may be able to get something out of him. A man will do a lot for his life.’

‘But do you speak Russian, Professor?’

‘Yes, indeed. I studied for many years in St Petersburg before the revolution, and I have a White Russian colleague at the university with whom I always speak in that language. I dare say that I could pass for a Russian myself, if the need arose.’

After a short consultation with Hsien Lu they went to the tent where the prisoner lay. He was a tall, fair man, dressed in the Mongolian style, with high boots and a sheepskin jerkin. For a long while the Professor spoke to him, but the man only replied in monosyllables.

‘I shall have to try something else,’ said the Professor, leaving the tent. He walked up and down, thinking. Then he said, ‘We shall go back now. When I turn to you and say something that you do not understand, you must reply “Da, da.” Then a little later I will tell you to do something and you must say “Ochen chorosho, tovarich” and leave the tent. Repeat that several times, will you?’

When Derrick was word-perfect they went back to the tent. The Professor spoke in a low, urgent voice to the prisoner: the man seemed to come alive; he answered many times – long, whispered sentences that sounded like questions. The Professor appeared to be reassuring him; he turned to Derrick and said something, looking at him with hidden meaning. ‘Da, da,’ said Derrick. And then, a little later, the Professor turned to him and said something that sounded like an order. Derrick said, ‘Ochen chorosho, tovarich,’ and hurried out.

He had a long time to wait. He paced up and down until the sun was high up in the sky. At last the Professor came out, with a triumphant look on his face.

‘Is it all right?’ asked Derrick.

‘Hush, boy,’ whispered the Professor, leading him out of earshot. ‘Yes, I have got the information I wanted. But I am afraid I was obliged to resort to a most distasteful form of deception to get it. However, perhaps its importance will justify the deceit.’

‘What did you tell him, sir?’ asked Derrick.

‘I told him that I was a secret agent working on his side – that I had been sent to Hsien Lu to deceive and entrap him. At length, when it appeared that you too understood Russian he believed me, and he told me that he was the man who was entrusted with the care of the new consignment of machine-guns and bombs that had been sent to Shun Chi for his final attack on Hsien Lu. He was supposed to join the four other Russians in the rebels’ camp in order to supervise the operation of these weapons.’

‘Then without him they won’t be able to use them?’

‘No. I am afraid that is not the case. The other men know enough about these guns and bombs to manage without him. It is a very bad business, Derrick: the day after tomorrow Shun Chi will attack Hsien Lu. He has lorries and tanks, and with these he can bring up his forces more rapidly than the Tu-chun can retreat. And once he attacks, with these new mortar-bombs and the tanks, I think that it will be all up with Hsien Lu, and as for the fate of your uncle and Mr Ross …’ he stopped, and shook his head.

For a long while neither of them spoke. Then Derrick said, ‘I have an idea, sir. It may seem a feeble one, but it is an idea.’

‘Tell me. I have been racking my brains, but I can think of nothing that is not obviously foolish.’

‘Well, couldn’t you go and say that you are this Russian? You could take his papers, and you could manage the language all right.’

‘Yes, and then?’

‘Why, then you could throw a spanner in the works somehow.’

‘But how? That is the point. The first part would not be too difficult. Petrovitch – that is the prisoner – has never seen the other Russians who are with Shun Chi, and we are much the same size and build, though he is younger than I am. Yes, I think they might take me at my face value. But what could I do then?’ The Professor wiped his spectacles: he was deeply distressed.

‘Perhaps you could get Shun Chi to let you talk to Uncle Terry and Mr Ross. You could pretend to question them, and they might give you some better idea; they are very good that way.’

‘Yes, I am sure they are. Yes. That is undoubtedly the best course of action: at all events it is better than waiting here impotently doing nothing. I am obliged to you for the suggestion.’ He sat down with his head between his hands. ‘There are difficulties,’ he said, after some thought, ‘many of them. I hardly know one end of a machine-gun from another. And the same applies to a bomb. They have so far come so very little into my life, you see. In the last war they kept me at home all the time for liaison work in unusual languages, you see, and I never saw a shot fired. Dear me, this is a singular position for an elderly archaeologist. But, as you say, we must do something. And apart from anything else, I should like to hamper this fellow Shun Chi if it is at all possible. Hsien Lu is a very good fellow in his own rough way, and he has a due respect for learning; whereas this Shun Chi …’ He went on to inveigh against the rebel leader’s total lack of culture, while Derrick thought furiously.

‘We must get cracking,’ said Derrick. ‘There is no time to be lost.’

‘Very well, my boy. I will speak to Hsien Lu. Really, you seem to have a most practical mind in these difficult circumstances. I suppose it is your sea-training.’

The war-lord welcomed their proposal. He agreed to spare the prisoner’s life, according to the Professor’s promise, but he stripped the unfortunate man to the skin, and gave the Professor his clothes.

‘You will have to wear these,’ he said, ‘and here are his papers. I hope you will be able to ensnare the despicable Shun Chi, but if your esteemed intelligence succeeds in this project, I beg that the first consideration should be the safety of Mr Ross. I owe him a debt of gratitude, and if necessary I will attack with my whole army to set him free, although I have little hope of prevailing against Shun Chi’s ignoble strategy.’

He gave them all they asked, horses, weapons and a guide, and he added a little packet of quick poison, so that they should die easily if Shun Chi caught them.

Derrick was determined to go too, whatever the Professor might say. He privately asked the Tu-chun whether there were any Mongols in his camp, and when the Tu-chun said that there were four, Derrick begged to be allowed to change clothes with the smallest of them. He was accustomed to Mongol clothes – he had often worn Chingiz’s – and when Li Han, working feverishly, had altered them a little they looked natural enough. He greased his face as a Mongol does against the wind, using old and dirty grease, and he pulled the sheepskin hood low over his face. When the Professor saw him, he did not recognise him until he spoke, and his objections died away.

‘I should not permit it,’ he said hesitantly. ‘You ought to ride back to Chien Wu with Li Han. But I must admit that I would be very glad to have you at hand: I am not very much use in these emergencies. The danger of your being discovered is certainly very much less.’ He stared hard at the Mongol figure in front of him. ‘But if there is the slightest unfortunate incident, you must give me your word to ride straight back to Chien Wu, where Olaf will be able to get you out of the country. At the slightest mishap, and at the slightest untoward word, you understand? Fortunately Hsien Lu has given us the best horses in the country.’

Derrick promised, but with the mental reservation of deciding for himself just how dangerous the situation could become.

They left Li Han in the camp, with orders to return to the walled city, and the Professor entrusted him with his notes on the stelae, which, he said, were already worth the whole trouble of the expedition. Hsien Lu rode with them to the foot of the hills on the way to Liao-Meng and the rebels’ camp. When he parted from them he wished them good fortune and stood watching them for a long while as they followed the winding road up into the hills. Once Derrick looked back, and far down the road beyond the Tu-chun he saw a toiling figure mounted on an ass.

By nightfall they were at the top of the hills, and in the morning they looked down into the province of Liao-Meng. It was just before the rising of the sun that Derrick stood there looking down into the unknown land: he was wondering where in all that stretch of country his uncle lay when he was startled by the braying of an ass. He whipped round, and saw a donkey tethered with the horses. There was a little fire sending up a straight pillar of blue smoke in the still air, and beside it squatted a familiar figure. It was Li Han, brewing the Professor’s early morning tea.

‘Please excuse pertinacious disobedience,’ said Li Han, bringing forward the steaming bowls, ‘but I conceived cunning and lovely stratagem for discomfiture of rebels.’

‘Hotcha,’ said the Professor, and then in Chinese. ‘Speak freely, worthy sea-cook.’

‘Have prepared several hundred lumps of sugar,’ said Li Han, bowing, ‘each one inscribed with Chinese characters for Good Fortune, Long Life, Fertility and Victory. These, if inserted into petrol of mechanical transport belonging to ignominious rebel Shun Chi, will cause practically instantaneous and insuperable carbonisation of working parts.’

‘Is that really so, Li Han? Where did you find that out?’

‘Magnanimous engineer of trampling steamer imparted said information at Hong Kong when he required my unworthy aid in sabotaging car belonging to evilly disposed one-eyed merchant who had acquired engineer’s wages by means of felonious trick. We dissolved one lump of best refined sugar in petrol tank, and lo, automobile un-mobile in five minutes, with incapable roarings of disabled engine and violent explosions from long pipe, accompanied by unpleasantly smelling clouds of smoke.’

‘What a beautiful idea,’ said Derrick. ‘But how can we get it into Shun Chi’s gas?’

‘Now for best part of stratagem,’ replied Li Han. ‘Ignorant and superstitious soldiery will buy inscribed sugar-lumps as charms to increase potency of petrol. They will insert said lumps themselves, to their ultimate confusion and downfall. I shall also realise three thousand per centum profit on prime cost of sugar,’ he added, in a tone of rather hollow cheerfulness.

As they continued along the downward road into Liao-Meng their guide became more and more uneasy. At last he pointed to a distant clump of pines, told them that the rebels’ camp was just beyond it, and turned about.

‘We are well rid of him,’ said the Professor, looking after his disappearing figure. ‘The only men of any use to us are brave men.’ He nodded to Li Han, who bowed repeatedly, grasping the mane of his little ass.

Some way out of the rebel encampment they separated, and Li Han went forward to peddle his lucky charms to the soldiers. The Professor took a last look through the Russian’s papers. ‘Yes, they are all here,’ he said, folding them up. ‘I think the first part should be easy enough. How do I look?’ He looked a strange sight in his tall sheepskin hat, with the incongruous horn-rimmed spectacles under it, and at another time Derrick might have been amused. But now he answered quite seriously, ‘Quite all right, sir. But perhaps you should look more sinister if you could manage it. You have rather a mild expression, you know.’

‘Ah, I must remember that,’ said the Professor, with a savage leer. ‘And you must not forget your part. You are a dull, taciturn young Mongol servant; you speak neither Chinese nor Russian, and you know nothing about anything.’

‘That shouldn’t be too difficult,’ said Derrick, with a faint grin. ‘And if anybody speaks to me in Mongol I can answer a few words convincingly enough. I can pretend to be an Usbeg or a Kazak: they won’t have any of them here.’

They went on, on and on to the clump of trees: they passed a few pedlars with baskets of fruit for the soldiers, and as the road led round the trees they came to a well-fortified camp, surrounded by barbed wire and guarded by sentries. The Professor rode boldly up to the main gate: the sentries saluted, obviously expecting him, and they passed through the barbed wire. Derrick followed the Professor, looking neither to the right nor the left: he felt his heart hammering, but he kept his face expressionless and dull.

In a moment they were past the sentries, and an orderly ran to take the Professor’s reins. He dismounted, gave Derrick a pack to carry, and asked in a loud, surly voice where Shun Chi was to be found. Before the soldier could answer a group of men came from a nearby hut, and Derrick saw that four of them were Europeans and two Chinese. The Professor blinked nervously: the men greeted him in Russian, and after a fit of coughing he replied hoarsely, holding his handkerchief up to his mouth. There was a general shaking of hands, and the orderly began to lead the horses away. Derrick was at something of a loss; he could not understand what the Professor was saying, and he did not know what to do. The Professor took no notice of him, but walked away with the men towards the hut, speaking much more confidently as the minutes went by: Derrick stood for a moment, then followed the orderly to the horse-lines and watched him bring their fodder. To the remarks of the Chinese he shrugged his shoulders and replied gutturally in Mongol. The man did not trouble with him any further, and Derrick wandered nonchalantly into the rebel camp.

Presently he came to the flattened, greasy space where the lorries were lined up, and at the far end of the lorries he saw three tanks, with a group of men crowded round them. He went slowly towards them, and from the middle of the crowd he heard a well-known voice extolling the powers of the charms that were for sale. Wriggling in among them, he saw Li Han standing on a box of ammunition, holding up his lumps of sugar. He saw Derrick, gave him an imperceptible nod, and looked significantly towards a stone house in the middle of the camp.

Derrick made no motion of reply, but slipped backwards out of the crowd, and walked in an oblique direction towards the middle of the camp. There were many soldiers about, but they took no notice of him: he looked for all the world like a Mongolian horse-boy, not a rare object in those parts. Only his face was out of character, for he could not put on the high, jutting cheek-bones or the wide-set, slit-like eyes of a Mongol; but there was little of that to be seen under the grease and his pulled-down hood. He walked with his legs stiffened and bowed, rolling in his gait; he chewed a piece of straw, and appeared to take little interest in anything around him. Slowly he approached the stone house and took its bearings: it was at the far end of the horse-lines, and there were a dozen ponies tethered to rings in its outer wall. On the side of the ponies there was a small square window, but none on the other sides. In the front of the house, on the side away from the window, there was the iron-studded door, and in front of that several armed guards lounged in the sunshine, smoking and playing dice. It seemed that the place had once been a shrine to one of the local deities, but Shun Chi had strengthened it out of all recognition.

Derrick went twice round it, getting the geography of the camp well into his mind; then he strolled along under the window. He waited until no one was by, and leaning against the wall he whistled the first tune that came into his mind, whistling very softly. It was Annie Laurie that he chanced upon, and he had hardly drawn breath before the answering song came back in a loud Scots voice. ‘I’ll lay me doon and dee,’ sang Ross inside the stone house, ‘I’ll lay me doon and dee – if you don’t come very soon, I’ll lay me doon and dee.’ He sang with very little melody, but with immense conviction.

With a quick glance round, Derrick vaulted on to the saddle of one of the tethered horses: standing on tip-toe on its back he could just see through the window. His uncle and Ross lay on the ground, tied hand and foot, and one of the guards was busy checking the song with his rifle-butt.

The horse moved uneasily, but just before Derrick fell he thought he saw Sullivan wink at him. It was fortunate that he fell when he did, for just then a party of soldiers came round the corner of the house. Derrick walked away: it would not do to arouse suspicions by staying there. The window was too small to get through, he reflected, even if it had no bars; but at least he knew that they were alive, and he felt very much happier. He went round the camp and then wandered to the place where the Professor was engaged with Shun Chi and the Russians. On his way he passed Li Han, who gave him a faint nod to show that all was well, but went by quickly without a word: Li Han’s face was a queer, greenish colour.

Derrick went on and squatted in the shade outside the hut: he looked quite natural there, and nobody took any notice of him. From where he sat he could see the line of tanks and lorries. The soldiers were busy round their petrol tanks, unscrewing the caps and putting in the inscribed charms. And inside the hut Derrick could hear the Professor’s voice, strong, firm, and apparently quite confident: he felt happy that the Professor had everything well in hand.

But if he could have understood what they were saying, Derrick would have been far less cheerful. The Russians would keep talking about the machine-guns, their rates of fire, their cooling-systems, their spare parts – all things of which the Professor knew nothing whatsoever. He was as non-committal as possible, but he was dreading the moment when they would ask him a direct question that could not be evaded. He tried desperately to turn the conversation; he talked of the weather, of some recent archaeological discoveries near Kiev, of the museums in Moscow, of anything except machine-guns and mortar bombs.

‘Tell me, Ivan Petrovitch,’ said one of the Russians to him, ‘what is the news from Aksenova?’

‘Quite inconclusive so far,’ replied the Professor warily, wondering whether Aksenova were a person or a place. ‘Very inconclusive indeed.’

‘Still? I thought it would have been settled long ago. But speaking of Aksenova reminds me, Tovarich, we have a present from there, have we not, comrades?’

‘Ha, ha,’ replied the comrades, while the Professor sweated with apprehension, ‘indeed we have.’

‘And here it is, Ivan Petrovitch,’ cried the first man, rising from the box on which he had been sitting and opening the lid. ‘Vodka, little brother! This will make you feel at home, I believe, comrade.’

‘Yes, I suppose it will,’ replied the Professor unhappily, watching him pour it into the tea-bowls.

‘To the brotherhood of man!’ cried the Russian.

‘To bigger and better bombs,’ answered the Professor, raising the bowl. The fiery spirit nearly made him choke, but he got it down, gasping like a stranded fish.

‘Why, one would think you had never drunk vodka before, little uncle,’ said one of the Russians, and they all laughed heartily. The Professor laughed too, but rather later than the others. He felt the vodka burning inside him, and he wondered how his digestion, always a troublesome creature, would care for it. After a few minutes he began to feel better, much better. He grasped the bottle and poured himself another stiff drink. He tossed it off in one gulp, to the toast of ‘Confusion to evil men,’ which they all repeated.

His brain seemed to be working excellently now, running on oiled wheels. ‘Now, comrades,’ he said, in a loud, firm voice, ringing with authority, ‘I have something to say to you. I have been sent here with two missions. One you know. But there is another. It is believed that one of you here, one at least, has been acting in a subversive manner, and I am going to investigate the matter,’ he cried, banging the table with his fist so suddenly that they all jerked in their seats. ‘I shall make a confidential report. And you all know where that will go.’ He paused for a moment, hoping that they did know, for he certainly did not. The Russians looked thoroughly ill at ease. He continued, after an ominous silence, ‘My report will, of course, depend upon what I see of your behaviour while I am here. And there is another matter which a man whose name I need not mention has asked me to look into. Two Europeans have been captured. I wish to interrogate them.’

‘Certainly, Ivan Petrovitch,’ said one of the men placatingly. ‘If you will come with me, Ivan Petrovitch, I will show you the way. This way, comrade.’

The Russian led the way to the stone house: his manner had suddenly changed; he spoke fawningly and humbly. The other three watched them go in a downcast silence. ‘Dimitri Mihailovitch will try to put him against us,’ muttered one of them.

‘I can assure you, comrade,’ said Dimitri, putting his hand on the Professor’s sleeve, ‘that my conduct has been most conscientious, whatever faults the others may have committed. If you could see your way to mentioning my name favourably, I have a little money …’

The Professor directed a stern and impressive look upon the wretched Dimitri Mihailovitch, who wilted as he stood, and wished that his tongue had been cut out before he had tried to bribe one of the incorruptible higher authorities.

‘What nationality are these prisoners?’ asked the Professor, without any reference to the Russian’s last remark.

‘One American and one British, comrade. They are very violent, and –’

‘Do you speak English, Dimitri Mihailovitch?’

‘No, comrade.’

‘What ignorance!’

‘But nor do the others, comrade. They do not know a single word, Ivan Petrovitch, little father. Shun Chi knows a little, but he could get no information out of them. They are very worthless prisoners, Ivan Petrovitch. He is going to execute them this afternoon before we move off to attack Hsien Lu tomorrow morning.’

‘I see. Just what is the position of Shun Chi as regards authority?’

‘He is under our thumb, Ivan Petrovitch. Under our thumb, comrade. Without our help he is like a pricked balloon – pouf!’

‘You mean that he takes his orders from us?’

‘Well, not exactly, comrade. He requires a little humouring at times, Ivan Petrovitch, when he is fixed on some object.’

They reached the door of the stone house: the guards fell back and saluted. They went in. On the threshold the Professor paused. ‘Where’s that wretched servant of mine?’ asked the Professor.

‘There he is, Ivan Petrovitch,’ said the Russian, pointing at Derrick, who had been following them. He ran back and seized Derrick by the sleeve. ‘Here he is, comrade,’ he said, hurrying Derrick along.

The three of them went into the stone house. The Professor looked at Ross and Sullivan. ‘Untie these men, Dimitri Mihailovitch,’ he said, ‘I shall adopt a more conciliatory form of questioning than has apparently been tried. One often gets better results that way.’

‘Certainly, comrade. Just as you say, Ivan Petrovitch: I am entirely of your opinion.’ The Russian busily untied the ropes, and Derrick bent to help him. Ross and Sullivan glared sullenly at them as they got up and rubbed the circulation back into their cramped limbs.

‘Now, comrade,’ said the Professor, ‘you will see how I question people. I shall play the benevolent liberator, and you will see that I get far more out of these men by apparent kindness than any amount of torture. Be so good as to fetch me some tea and a bottle of that excellent vodka. I am thirsty.’

‘Surely, Ivan Petrovitch, instantly, instantly …’ The Russian hurried away.

‘Well, here we are,’ said the Professor in English, but still speaking in a loud, authoritative voice for the benefit of anyone who might be listening outside.

‘I’m uncommonly glad to see you both,’ said Sullivan, straightening himself unsteadily.

‘Aye,’ said Ross. ‘If you’d been just a wee bit later, you would have been in time for the execution. It’s due with all due pomp in three hours’ time. It would have been quite a sight: they mentioned boiling oil and the Thousand Cuts as part of the show.’

‘We’ll have to miss it,’ whispered Derrick. ‘We’ve come to get you out.’

‘Have you though?’ said Sullivan. ‘I would never have guessed that. Would you, Ross?’

‘Why, no. I thought they had come to sell us tickets for the church bazaar.’ It was as well that he said this in an angry, whining tone, like a man who refuses to give any information, for a moment later the Russian came in with the vodka, closely followed by the others with pots of tea.

‘Thank you, comrades,’ said the Professor. ‘These may be very valuable prisoners. I believe I recognise the villain on the right. It is most important to get all they know out of them, even if it takes some time. You need not wait. While I am busy you may get all the machine-guns ready for inspection. And I shall probably wish to speak with Shun Chi again later – make all the necessary arrangements.’

‘Tell me, Professor,’ said Sullivan, when they were alone again, ‘how did you manage it?’

Professor Ayrton gave him a quick outline of the position. ‘And now,’ he said, at the end of it, ‘I am wondering what to do for the best.’

‘Yes,’ said Sullivan, thoughtfully. ‘That is the question. What do we do now?’