Adrift in Pacific and Other Great Adventures – 17 Titles in One Volume (Illustrated Edition). Jules Verne
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on him. This was provoking, and ten days had already passed; though, to be sure, Wang had two months still in which to perform his deed.
“He is certainly an idler,” said Kin-Fo. “I have given him twice as much time as is necessary.”
And he also feared the former Tai-ping had become effeminate amid the luxury at Shanghai.
From this day, however, Wang seemed to become more anxious and agitated, and went to and fro in the yamen like a man who cannot stay in one place. Kin-Fo even observed that he made repeated visits to the ancestors’ room, where stood the precious coffin which had come from Loo-Choo. He was delighted to learn from Soun that Wang had ordered him to brush, clean, and dust the article in question; in a word, to keep it in readiness.
“How comfortably master will rest in it!” added the faithful servant. “It is enough to make you wish to try it.”
A remark by which Soun obtained a kindly recognition.
The 13th, 14th, and 15 th of May passed.
There was nothing new.
Did Wang, then, intend to let pass the intervening time, and pay his debt only at the moment when due, as is customary with merchants? But in that case there would be no more surprises, and consequently no more emotion for Kin-Fo.
Something of great significance, however, was imparted to him on the morning of the 15th of May, near the “mao-che;” that is, towards six o’clock in the morning.
He had a poor night, and, on waking, was still haunted by a dreadful dream. Prince Jen, the sovereign judge of the Chinese hell, had condemned him not to appear before him till the twelve hundredth moon should rise above the horizon of the Celestial empire. A century still to live,—a whole century!
Kin-Fo was now in a very bad humor, for it seemed as if every thing was conspiring against him. This is the way that he received Soun, when the latter as usual came to assist him in his morning toilet.
“Go to the devil! Go, receive ten thousand kicks for your wages, animal!”
“Why, master”—
“Go, I tell you!”
“No, no!” replied Soun, “at least, not till I have told you”—
“What?”
“That Mr. Wang”—
“Wang! what has Wang done?” said Kin-Fo eagerly, seizing Soun by his braid. “What has he done?”
“Master,” answered Soun, wriggling like a worm, “he ordered us to carry your coffin to the Pavilion of Long Life, and”—
“He did that!” cried Kin-Fo, whose brow lighted up. “Go, Soun! go, my friend! Stop! here are ten taels for you, and be sure that Wang’s orders are executed in every particular.”
Thereupon Soun, thoroughly amazed, left the room, saying to himself,—
“Really, master is crazy; but this time he is good-naturedly so.”
Kin-Fo was now no longer in doubt: the Tai-ping meant to kill him in the Pavilion of Long Life, where he himself had determined to die. It was as if he were appointing a rendezvous for him there, and he would not fail to be present. The catastrophe was imminent.
How long the day seemed to Kin-Fo! The water in the clocks no longer flowed with its wonted speed, and the hands seemed to creep over their dial of jade.
Finally the first period drew nigh, and the sun disappeared below the horizon, and the shadows of night gradually enveloped the yamen.
Kin-Fo proceeded to the pavilion, which he expected never to leave alive, and lay down on a soft lounge, which seemed to be made for long repose, and waited.
Then the memories of his useless existence passed through his mind,—his ennui, his disgust, all that wealth had not been able to conquer, and all that poverty might have increased.
There was only one bright thing in his life, which had been unattractive during his opulence, and that was the affection which he felt for the young widow. This sentiment stirred his heart now when it was about to cease to beat. What! make poor Le-ou share his misery! Never!
The fourth period, which precedes the dawn, and during which it seems as if life everywhere were suspended, passed, causing Kin-Fo the strongest emotions. He listened anxiously. His eyes peered into the darkness. He tried to catch the slightest sound, and more than once he thought he heard a door creak as if opened by some cautious hand. No doubt Wang hoped to find him asleep, and would kill him as he slept.
And now a sort of re-action took place in him: he both feared and desired this visit of the terrible Tai-ping.
The dawn was lighting the zenith in the fifth period, and day was slowly approaching. Suddenly the door opened. Kin-Fo arose, having lived more in this last second than during his whole life.
Soun stood before him, with a letter in his hand, and simply said, “In great haste.”
Kin-Fo had a presentiment. He seized the letter, which bore the postmark San Francisco; tore open the envelope, and read it very quickly; then, rushing out of the Pavilion of Long Life, he shouted,—
“Wang! Wang!”
In a moment he reached the philosopher’s room, and flung open the door.
Wang was not there! Wang had not slept in the house that night! And, when at Kin-Fo’s cries the servants hastened to him and searched the yamen, it became evident that Wang had disappeared without leaving a trace.
CHAPTER X.
In Which Craig And Fry Are Officially Presented To The New Patron Of The Centenary.
“Yes, Mr. Bidulph, a simple operation on change in the American style,” said Kin-Fo to the agent of the insurance company.
“Well played, indeed; for every one was taken in,” said the Honorable William J. Bidulph, with the smile of a connoisseur.
“Even my correspondent,” answered Kin-Fo. “It was a make-believe suspension of payment, sir, a make-believe failure, and make-believe news. A week afterwards they paid with open doors. The stock, which had depreciated eighty per cent, had been bought up at the lowest rate by the Central Bank; and, when people came to ask the director the cause of the failure, he answered amiably, ‘One hundred and seventy-five per cent.’ This is what my correspondent has written in this letter, which arrived only this morning, just as I thought myself absolutely ruined.”
“Were you going to make an attempt on your life?” cried Mr. Bidulph.
“No,” answered Kin-Fo; “but I expected to be assassinated.”
“Assassinated!”
“By my written authority,—an assassination agreed upon, and sworn to, and which would have cost you”—
“Two hundred thousand dollars,” answered Mr. Bidulph, “as you were insured against death in every form. Ah! we should have mourned you greatly, dear sir.”
“On account of what I should have cost you?”
“With interest,” saying which, Mr. Bidulph took his patron’s hand, and shook it cordially in the American fashion.
“But I do not understand,” he added.
“But you will understand,” replied Kin-Fo; and he acquainted him with the nature of the contract entered into with him by a man in whom he ought to have confidence. He even quoted the terms of the letter which that person had in his pocket, which agreed to save him from pursuit, and guaranteed every immunity. But