Lotus Blossom

Sun (Auckland), Volume III, Issue 714, 13 July 1929, Page 12

Lotus Blossom

By

John Creasey

Why does tlj.e average Englishman [ find a kindred spirit in the Jap, yet' nothing but dislike, mutual to both j parties, in the Chinaman? I have striven times out ol number to solve j that self-set problem, but have never j succeeded in other than arriving at the same conclusion, which conclusion contradicts Euclid insomuch as while it is absurd it is none the less a fact. In my experience there is something more than racial, more than moral, in the animosity which Englishmen and Chinamen bear toward one another. There seems to be a personal element which appeals to all and sundry and gives rise to unoccasioned bitterness. There was a time when I shared the average Englishman’s view’, and looked askanee at any Chinaman who walked the streets of London and its suburban sateellites, this despite the fact that I was in no way perturbed by the appearance of a Frenchman or a Jap, or even a German. Of course I was unconscious of any incongruity of sentiment until —but as I have j started to tell you the whole yarn that would be anticipating. _ | His name, when translated, was Wu j

Mans Li, though to me and to many j others he was known and accepted as ! Mr. Ralph, Mangly. and on the surface of things you couldn't have wished for | a nicer or more pleasant fellow. But. i I had my doubts, and at one time It I seemed as If they would be justified, | that Mangly had merely donned the clothing of the West while retaining the semt-civilised savagery of his native land. But literally as well as | figuratively his clothing was perfect. | That much even I had to admit. His speech was noticeable only be- j cause it was too precise, too pedantic, for your ordiuary Englishman. His bearing was beyond reproach, thus he became more or less a lion, considered a triumph in any drawing-room or at any social event. He was in sort your very perfect and very popular gentleman. Of course, your ordinary English- j man who stutters over a proposal and I looks like a hunted criminal, if he has j to say “thanks.” is wary of gentlemanly perfection and excessive popu- 1 laritv It is obviously had taste; one | doesn't, so to speak. This, added to j The fact that he was a Chinaman w had no idea that he was a Taoist •Kwun,” and would certainly have been little the wiser if we had— meant that we'd lift an eyebrow knowingly j or light a cigarette with badly exag-, geratcd indifference whenever his | name was mentioned. Of course, "’ hR " j he was With us, and the ladies saw to it that no function was compleLe Without him. we accepted him. Needs must, and all that kind of thin,, you] know what I’m driving at. j From time to time there were piobably a dozen girls more or less infatuated with him. but. to give him his due, he took no advantage of the position in which he found himself. Looked at from a purely critical point of view, he was to all appearances all that he should be; but, as I have something to that effect before, 111 get on with the yarn. He had been “established in London for nearly two years when he delivered his bombshell —he was leav•ng England for at least 12 mouths. You could scarcely credit the fuss they made over him during the week or iwo before he went. “And all. I w ould comment to myself, “over a beastly Chink! Pah!” To be frank, I was going out of the country for a few months myself, and, as I noted, there seemed few who worried about me. Milly, my married sister, fussed about me tor a day or two, but, taken all round, mine was a none too hectic departure. I did not admit it, but it stuck for a bit. Then fate had something to say. I had been pottering about in one of the small Balkan States, trying to smooth out some little problem which had caused a hit of a shindy at the Foreign Office, when I was called back and sent forthwith to China. I had eight days in which to get ready for the trip, and had to delve into the intricacies of the job during the journey. My destination was Macao. Unfortun-

ately. I knew nothing of the place nor of China generally. Taking my' impression of Mangly as a philosopher and guide, I prepared to have a thoroughly disagreeable time. However, it seemed that I was wrong. Gus Pendleton —Sir Augustus Pendleton, Bart., and a long stream of letters which I never learned —had managed to settle the affair for which l was detailed, but for the sake of appearances, and in order to create a better impression at home, I stayed for a bit. It did not take me a great

time to discover things about Macao —the Oriental Monte Carlo, it has been dubbed, and certainly everything in the town was subservient to the craze, I might almost say industry, of gambling. Fan-tan headed the bill, and fortunes beyond count must have passed through various hands even while I was there. There were dens for the poor and dens for the rich. I have seen men who slaved 14 hours daily to get their cash, devote half of the remaining hours feverishly intent on risking it at the curious gamble, watching each draw with set eyes and fierce breathing. Then, when the remaining number is seen, the table breaks up into uproarious clamour and excitement. But the difference between Macao and Monte Carlo is that the bank is always safe. No winner cau get greater odds than eight to one. But for Pendleton's insistence that I ought to see as much of the place as time would permit, I doubt whether 1 would ever have heard anything of Mangley. of Lotus Blossom. As it was. I set out with a coolie whom Gus recommended as the only- honest Chink in China, intent on going the round of the larger gambling dens. The difficulty was not so much to find where to go as to decide where not to go. but my guide, a funny little fellow conspicuous for his smallness among a population remarkable for its average height, led me to the “velly velly nice place; ail le money good money'.” without a suggestion of hesitancy’. To a sedate Englishman, the spectacle of the streets of Macao present a bewildering 6ight of gaudy brilliance. Each den, and I have counted as many as five or six in one small treet, vies its neighbour in flashy, startling illumination. Immense multi-coloured lanterns spread a tawdry brightness more effectively than the best electrical advertisement with which Loudon abounds; but I had a pistol in my pocket, on Pendleton s assurance that it was safest. My coolie arrived at last at the particular den which he had considered worthy of displaying to the Englishman, fluttered something unintelligible to me. and I was received, if not with enthusiasm, with great re-

spect. Interestedly I watched the game. It was not long before I noticed one of the gamblers, who seemed to be plunging as heavily as anyone there. With amazing regularity he won; time after time the last number was his, and he was given his considerable winnings. A little apart from the others, he was in the shadow, so that I was unable to see his features clearly, although he was dressed in the same flowing robes as was affected by all those present. It was obvious that his success was unpopular. With that little smattering of Chinese that I had picked up I heard the most blood-curdling threats, but, having in mind the natural extravagance of the native tongue, I placed little importance on that which I heard. Then suddenly the man stood up from the table. I started involuntarily with the surprise I felt. The gambler was an Englishman!

I hadn't any doubt at all about that j —that peculiar something which be- j trays the Englishman all the world j over gave him away the moment I saw t him in the full light of the room. There didn’t seem to be anything the matter with him. for his eyes were clear, and he had the Englishman's hereditary tendency to create the impression that he was fully conscious of racial superiority; I rather admired it in the man who had achieved such a phenomenal success. Within a minute he had left the table, and I felt, a momentary inclination to follow him from the room. Calling myself a fool, I concentrated on the game which was being played, and affected not to have noticed him. But it was not to be. My guide, who had disappeared for a time, sidled up to me and told me that my chair was ready. For a second I was on the point of remonstrating to the effect that I had no wish to go, but something in the usually inscrutable eyes told me that I was wanted outside. Wondering not a little, I followed him. Safely outside I said quietly: “What.'s this all about?” But he lifted his hand with an imperative gesture, and I lapsed into silence. Quickly the chair was brought up, and, to my intense surprise, the man | clambered into the seat opposite me, I leaving to others to carry the rickI shaw. Before I could speak he said— I hissed might be a better word: | “You saw the Englis, mister?” ■ “Yes,” I replied, at a loss, j “He in danger; Chin’ese boys, they Jno like the way he get the money; j they go after him, take it, maybe. If jhe try stop them, a knife. You un- ! derstand?” As he finished he lifted his shoul- ; ders in a comically out of-place ges- [ ture of interrogation. Startled, I nodded automatically. He would talk quicker if I made no interruption. “Good, velly good. I tell the boys to follow the Englis mister; any trouble, and you help him, yes? You have the gun?” “Here!” I said, putting my nand to the pocket in which was resting the pistol. “Do you think that they will?” “Me? I no tell; they talk and I tell you. Bad thing for Englis and Chinee.” “How far in front is he?” I demanded, with no thought but the possibility of action in my mind. “Not velly far; 10, 20 steps, raavbe. If there is the trouble our hoys stop

veliy quick; I tell them.” “You seem,” I said grimly, “to have made the arrangements pretty thoroughly.”

“But, yes,” the man was comically eager to explain his method; “if the Chinee hear me, then more come! I no let there be chance of that. I was right? Yes?”, “I suppose! so; but I hope there won’t be any fuss,” I returned with sincerity. I certainly had no desire to get mixed up in any street brawl, such as the affair suggested. But my hopes were not to be realised. Hardly had I stopped than I felt the chair being put down; my coolie nipped out of the seat and into the road; a second later he poked his head inside. “You got gun all ready? Yes?” lie said tersely. Hurriedly l clambered out of the rickshaw, and saw dimply another chair, surrounded by several whirling figures. One, his arms going round like flails of vengeance, was fighting desperately w-ith his back to the chair. With a gasp of horror I saw another figure climbing into the other side of the sedan. “From behind, eh?” I muttered. “No, you don't, my lad; no you don’t!” and quick as a thought I fired low. It was dark, and the figures were only just discernible, but the distance was not more than 20 yards. Whether by luck or by judgment the bullet got home. I saw- the figure at which i had fired leap into the air. aud heard a loud cry. To the accompaniment of “Hully! Velly much bully’!” I tore toward the other chair. What would have been the outcome I know not. I was reluctant to, do other than wound the men. but had 1 been forced to use the pistol again it would have been hard to make sure of my aim. As it was, I hit one fellow with my left, and he crumpled in j a heap. The Englishman had acj counted for one of his assailants simi- | larly, and he was fighting like a verit- | able tornado. Then, above the noise j of the fight, I heard a voice, impera- | tive, commanding. Vaguely I reccg- ! nised it, but for the moment I was ! unable to place it. Sufficient for the i moment was the fact that the China--1 men turned tail and bolted. X heard | a grim chuckle at my elbow, and a | voice said meaningly; I “Luck, laddie, and the world is ] yours." but before I could reply the i newcomer approached us. Tall, and j dressed in flowing robes, decorated ! mainly in red, there was none the less a ; suggestion of familiarity in the man. ! When/he spoke again in pure, pedantic l English, I recognised him. Ralph i Mangly, or more correctly Wu Mangli! j "Your pardon, gentleman, but you I are hurt?” i “Personally, not a bit,” responded my other companion. “But my un- ! know-n friend here, perhaps ” He ! looked at me inquiringly. 1 “I'm all right,” I said. Then to | Mangly. i “Coincidence plays strange tricks, ! Mangly.” For a second he was nonplussed; ! then he recognised me aud gravely extended a hand from his loose sleeve. | With more pleasure than ever before. I grasped his. "Shall we call it Fate?” queried the ; Chinese, that slow smile which I had seen so often crossing his features. “As you please,” I returned with an ; answering smile, “for the rest I. rather we. owe you thanks for butting in: f there might have been a nasty affair."

"But you were armed,” commented I Mangly. meaningly. “Yes.” 1 said with a glance at the 1 automatic which I bad in my left hand, j “though I wasn't keen on using it. In j any’ case numbers would probably have j counted for something.” “The inevitable Englishman!” Mangly chuckled a little. “You nave j a gun, but because your opponents ; have not you don't like to take advan- j tage. But may I offer you my meagre i supper, Mr. Tarrant? Come, I will not ! take no for an answer! Aud you, sir?” ! he turned to the other. “Grant, Bob Grant!” replied tile latter to Mangiy’s unspoken query. “I should certainly like to thank my saviours in more suitable surroundings,” "Then if you will instruct your boys to follow me,” said Mangly, “I shall be honoured. I fear that my chair is scarce large enough to accommodate us all.” A few seconds later I was bowling along in the chair, the seat which “the only honest Chink in China” had occupied now holding Grant who, at my suggestion, had paid off his own coolies. For a few minutes neither of us spoke, but at last my companion lit a cigarette and said thoughtfully: “So you know our foremost Kwun, Mr. Tarrant!” “Kwun?” [ queried, searching vainly i for recollection of the word. “I'm afraid I know little of the native tongue; I suppose it is ” “Mandarin, when translated; Wu Mangli is a power here, a great power.” “You know him, then,” I said on hearing the native name used and not a little surprised. “Know him? Everbody in Macao knows him.” “I did notice the way those yellow blighters scampered,” I commented witij a smile. “They knew what would come if they stayed.” I ve an idea what would have come if he d not arrived. Yes,” X diverged, “I knew him in England.” “Big man socially, wasn’t he?” asked my companion. . “Yes,” I grunted. My recollections, in the circumstances, -were not too pleasant; besides which I recalled the fact that our rescuer had been a man whom 1 had affected to dislike. “He would he; he’s great on AngloChina relationship; almost a fetish with him. Rumour says he’s thinking of taking Lotus Blossom with him in a few months. I might travel with him; useful man to know.” "Who is Lotus Blossom?” I demanded. “Gad! You are in the backwaters Tarrant.” “Only been here a month, and then working,” I pointed out, piqued by his short laugh. “Sorry,” he apologised, “don’t do much personally. Lotus Blossom is the wife to be. Daughter of Manou Ling-si. Between ’em they’ll be the strongest rulers in this part of the land, and there might be worse.” Hum—yes,” I commented. “So you're leaving soon!”

“Sooner the better; that show tonight will give you an idea. I’ve been making too much at their private game, and they don’t like it.” ‘Why not stop?” I queried. “I’m going to'. Think I’ll try Monte Carlo next, but I doubt if the luck will mn as well; asking too much of things.”

Before we had opportunity of further talk the chair stopped, and that brief chat with Grant was the only time I had an opportunity of being with him alone and hearing his own outlok on life from his own lips; but his reputation as an inveterate gambler has provided the topic of many a conversation; in fact, I have been awarded a little halo because I have met him. But this is the story of Wu Mangli and of his betrothed, Lotus Blossom.

After Grant’s comments I was not. surprised that Mangly introduced the girl. Lotus Blossom, a fragile, beautiful creature, her limpid eyes, brown and soft as a dog’s, seemed to possess a strange exotic suggestion of allurement. Her slow, grave smile added to a charm such as I have seldom met. Her beauty was that fragrant, delicate gift peculiar to the Orient; her prettily hesitant English seemed to flow from her lips as a cascade of murmuring water flows within a mountain glen, a thing of rare attraction and crooning allurement. I was conscious of a feeling akin to regret when she left us. Manou Ling-si, her father, was an oldish man, I judged, probably between 60 and 70 years. He did not come in until after we had partaken of the “meagre supper,” and I fancied that he was put out when he saw that Mangly was not alone. Despite this he was courteously attentive to our talk, which was mainly of England, and occasionally he would speak in English nearly as precise as that of Mangly. It must have been nearly 12 o’clock when we rose to go. We had reached the door when I fancied that I heard a sob of distress, but it was too vague a sound for me to be certain. But quickly my fancy was proved to be fact. Another door to the right, which 1 had not previously noticed, was flung open; through it I caught a glimpse of a tall, robed figure of a man, aud behind him, trembling, a very creature of fear, Lotus Blossom. The man burst out into a torrent of words which were stemmed quickly as the newcomer saw Grant and myself. With smooth politeness Mangly opened the door in front and escorted us into the grounds of the large house. Silently a large chair was borne to the .entrance and the Chinese shook bands gravely, mentioned something about seeing me in London within a few months, and was gone. I had understood nothing of the words of the man who had burst into the room, but I had sensed something out of the ordinary in his appearance and the subtle change of atmosphere which he had brought with him. Had it not been for Grant I should have been none the wiser. As it was I saw a peculiar expression ou his face which struck me as more than remarkable; only for a moment while he had illuminated the gloomy interior of the chair with a match did I see it. But it was enough to provoke an involuntary comment. “You’re looking fierce,” I said. For a moment he was silent, then—“Of course, you don’t understand the lingo, Tarrant.” “No.” I responded shortly. “Well,” he said tersely, “believe me it’s the devil!” “What is?” “China, Wu Maug Li. Lotus Blossom, and her cursed father and brother — the devil, Tarrant!” “You’re inclined to be vague,” I pointed out. “Yes. It’s an awkward subject, but T may as well out with it for the world will know it soon. You don’t know the Chinese ethics of morality and punishment, of course.” “No,” I grunted. “In England if a girl—er—slips up

a bit it’s bushed up and blown over, j With the Manchus here there’s only j one thing to do. The affianced, that* is Wu Mang Li, sees to it; it’s law aud ■ no one dare go against it.” “You mean —” l hesitated as I saw | his meaning. “Good lord, man, you can’t —” “No one will ever see Lotus Blossom ; again, Tarrant!” “But dash it all. Mangiy’s civilised; j he can’t do it. Anyhow, that fellow I didn’t say as much as that.” “No; but he said enough. As for \ civilised, Mangly, as you call him, is one of the most powerful Manchus in the land; he'll have no choice; the law is there for him to execute.” Before we said more the chair was put down outside Pendleton's place in the English colony and Grant went on j alone to his hotel. I spent a restless night; the thought of that fragile creature seemed to haunt me. “He can’t!” I told myself aloud. “He can’t! ” But the next evening Gus Pendleton assured me that he could. He went further and said that he had. “These things get about,” he ended, “and Lotus Blossom has been sent to | her Maker. Mangly is going abroad ] for a bit, I believe,” and we dropped ' the subject. Four months later I was back in England. It was a day or two before I heard anything, then it was Jim Allsopp, Milly’s husband, who fold me. I-Ie had called at my flat, and I was chatting about Macao and its gambling dens when he asked suddenly, “By the way, did you hear anything of Mangly while you were there?” ] “Yes,” I answered briefly, “a lot.” “Then you know,” he said quietly, “Bob Grant was a bit gay one night, and the story leaked out.” “Is Grant in town?” I queried in surprise. “Yes; going off again tomorrow. He came at the same time as that Chinese.” “What?” I demanded incredulously. “Is Mangly here?” “He went a week ago. Once we discovered, of course, it was impossible, and he found it out pretty quickly. It’s a rotten story altogether.” “And shows,” I rejoined bitterly, “the effect of civilisation on a heathen!” and as Milly, late, of course, came into the room we turned to other and more pleasant topics. There, but for Elizabeth, would have been an end to as distasteful an episode as I’ve ever accosted; but Elizabeth will do anything unexpected, and this was no exception. Elizabeth is my car. I, at the instigation of many others, named it Elizabeth because one look into a mirror and it would have fallen into hysterics. Despite its appearance it served me well, although it was proue to awkward eccentricities and had an objectionable habit of stopping without giving the slightest warning. I was motoring north nearly a year after the conversation which I had with Jim Allsopp, when Elizabeth emitted a loud and terrifying noise, skidded round in a half-circle, and stopped. No amount of effort enabled me to put her nose into the right direction, and of necessity I waited disconsolately for the arrival of a kindly motorist, who would lend me a hand. When at last he arrived, this hoped-for good Samaritan, it was silently and from the direction opposite to that in which I was gazing. As I heard his voice I reflected that his car, if he had come by car, was remarkably silent. But the thought was fleeting; it disappeared as I i turned quickly round, and came face ! to face with the man. Of course, I | ought to have recognised his voice. “Tarrant!”

Even the imperturbable Chinese was startled, for it was Ralp Mangly; the murderer, as I had always called him to myself, of Lotus Blossom. Here, in Hertfordshire! “Yes,” I said icily. Next moment I wished that I could recall that word; not much, but it made him flinch. Yet it was behind him, not in him, that I saw that which was a revelation. Her head leaning out of the window of a large saloon car was a girl; limpid eyes, brown and soft as a doe’s! Lotus Blossom! As she recognised me she drew her head into the car. For what seemed an interminable time neither Mangly nor I spoke. At last: “Gad! Mangly, I’m sorry,” I said. He smiled, a grim, slow smile, which had no humour. “Thank you,” he answered. “Perhaps it is as well that you should know.” He shrugged his shoulders ever so lightly, and went ou. “In China I could not live; my law’s commanded that which I could not do, therefore I came here. But our friend, Mr. Grant, fell foul of his w r ine, so that London was impossible. I came to the country where I am unknown and -where w r e can be happy, Lotus Blossom and I. I would ask one favour, Mr. Tarrant.” “Name it,” I said. “That you will tell no one of this meeting! ’\ “But —,” I began, and stopped as I saw his expression. “All right,” I ended. “Then,” said Wu Mang Li, “let us right your car.” Ten minutes later he was gone; the great car sped noiselessly into the distance, and I watched it out of sight. Then I clambered slowly into Elizabeth. I am glad that I knew Mangly. I no longer dislike Chinese.