The Humanity Club.

New Zealand Graphic, Volume XXIII, Issue IX, 26 August 1899, Page 7

The Humanity Club.

It was considerably past the dinner hour and Egbert Thorne was a decidedly hungry man. He had walked impatiently at the side of a talkative neighbour, through narrow streets and wretched byways to the better residence district in the AngloSaxon quarter of old Hongkong, begrudging even the short space of time that it took him to pass from his office to his home, until his facetious companion had twitted him and had speculated as to the cause of his great unrest. When he finally reached his pretty balconied and screened cottage he sprang up the broad flight of steps leading to the main verandah with alacrity, and entered in haste, dropping his hat upon a window seat. One short year ago—and he remembered having stood in a little flower-strewn chapel with a fair young woman at his side, a robed priest before him. and a staring assemblage behind him, and of having received there the congratulations of foreign officials, island dignitaries, and resident Americans. His bride had been an American girl of unusual strength of character and many accomplishments, and there in that land of sunshine and drooping palms they had joined their fortunes and their futures, while an interested community had looked on and expressed a "kind prophecy. The sound of merry voices greeted Thorne’s eager ears, and he pushed on .o a screened verandah in the rear of his home, where, amidst trailing vines and spreading plants a tempting dinner had been laid upon immaculate linen. His wife and two of her girl friends who had spent the day at the Thorne home were awaiting him. He was struck at once with the fact that the guests were trying to smother an unseeming mirth in their napkins, and the face of his wife was a study as he looked askance from oue to another and tried to guess the meaning of it all! “You see,” said Mrs Thorne, as she deftly poured the tea. “we have had a sensation here to-day —we have lost Wung Hi!” “You don’t say so: I thought he was a fixture hereabouts! But what of if? What are you laughing about?” “Give us time and we will tell you. He was a fixture —at least I thought so. and there is no denying the fact that he was the best cook in the district. But he has gone now—and I have another in his place. Still, that is not the story!" “Pray let us have the sensation then.”' said Thorne.

“Well, you remember of my telling you several days ago that his conduct was most peculiar—" “ Y es.”

“And that I was even getting a little bit afraid of him —and all that? Yon know he used to stand around and look at me wistfully, and talk and mutter things that 1 never understood—until I was sure his reason was leaving him. It left him to-day with a rush! “You know he used to give me foolish little trinkets and valueless tokens, and I supposed, of course, that it was a common courtesy shown in this country to the employers of faithful servants: but now I come to find out he though I he was making the overtures of—a —lover!” A burst of laughter from the young women at either side of him—and Egbert Thorne turned red and laid down his knife and fork. He could read nothing further in the blushing. confused expression upon his wife's faee. and he pleaded for a better explanation.

“To-day I rebuked Wung Hi for going so" listlessly about his work.” she said, and lie suddennly told me then, as well as we could understand him. that he was unable to do anything more—for. he declared. I was so very beautiful to him. and so beA'itching. that he wanted to carry me off! We were standing in the reception hall when he said this, and the girls ran out from the library, for they heard it. I demanded that he gather up his things and go. but he. pleaded, stormed, and threatened, and said I had been so good to him he knew I must like him! He showed us a big bag of coin that lie hail anil promised to spend it all on me

if 1 would go with him. 1 knew he was crazy then. 1 paid him the wages due him. made him collect his chattels and It hen I locked the doors liehind him! He is as crazy as can lie! He stood in front of the house for a long time, making gestures, beating his chest, anil chattering away at nothing, and then finally he went away. So that is the story of Wung Hi! That is the sensation!”

Thorne was struck dumb. He moved his chair back a little and folded his arms slowly, while his wife, with her pretty elbows planted upon the table's edge and her head resting in her hands, studied the face of the man she loved and tried to decide whether she was to laugh with her light-hearted girl friends or share the evident concern of her husband. She could not reach a conclusion.

If there was anything on the wellfilled board that night which deserved appreciation it was destined to remain there unnoticed, for the dinner was all but forgotten in the discussion which followeil. Thorne announced his intention of capturing and punishing the crazy Celestial, but the gentler influence of his wife anil her companions smoothed down his ruffled temper in part and wrung ftoni him the promise to do nothing further than to complain to the authorities of Wung Hi and have him watched in the future. He yielded reluctantly, however. and as the evening wore away he was caught many a time in a meditative mood—as he would plunge his hands into the pockets of his duck trousers and saunter off alone to scowl and study the floor. When the guests had departed and the American and his wife had sat down together in the bright moonlight to marvel at the fantastic shadows which lay across the gravel walks about the place, h ■ had promised to -dot it all o.it--t'> forget. Still he was nit :h.* •:!• ynT. and during !:is s-n.d.e bel.ne retiring and in the fitful sleep that came to him that night. Egbert Thorne thought of greasy.almond-eyed Wung Hi. who audacious and savage, had dared to admire his wife, dared to tell her so. and then to go out of his house with a grudge in his narrow being—a threat upon his lips! His good wife laughed at him and said that it was jealousy, and shaped the other events in his life so that the spark within him which cried out for retaliation found nothing to feed upon, and was finally snuffed out. Then together they clung to the golden thread which led them through the maze of months so happily —and Time effaced the episode.

Fashionable Hongkong had assembled in the pretty City Hall Theatre, ostensibly to witness a performance which boasted an English slur and cast, but actually, it may l;e said, to behold and to lie the envied of all beholders. The well illuminated and uchly set auditorium was filled with a brilliant audience, which, resplendent in rustling silks and spotless shirt fronts, stared at itself through pearl-trimmed glasses and wagged its knowing head in critical comment. It was an event of the season within that circle which prated of caste, anil which stretched out its arms toward the bubble of social supremacy—always just ahead.

In a box to the left of the house sat a party of nine—with EgbertThorne and his charming wife the centre of all interest. It was a little venture of Mrs Thorne's to settle a few of her most, urgent social obligations and to please other of her young friends whom she really cared to favour. Its success was assured—for the Thornes were known as quite the best of all the hosts in the younger circle, ns indeed they were. The play, with its complement of features, arrived at a climax in due time anil the assemblage dispersed. The Thornes accompanied their merry party of guests to the dinner which had been ai ranged for in a nearby cafe, and the happy evening was lengthened out until the midnight hour . Some one had told of the strangeness and startling features of the Chinese coolie quarter, ami it took but a suggestion then *■> invite a discussion. which ended in a resolution to sei* the poorer district of old Hongkong. There were some in the party

to whom the novelty of life in the Orient was still fresh, and the desire for mi 111 ail vent ure extended even to those of the group who had long since pried into the mysteries and strangeness of life in the eoolie quarter. Guides were summoned and the pilgrimage into the narrow, lanterned section that hail always been so interesting a sight to foreigners was commenced.

Through byways anil alleys, where forbiililing houses anil shanties and bizarre-looking residents were the objects of interest, and where tumbledown balconies, studded with fantastic signs, hung over the cobbled walks until they seemed to meet, the members of this jesting party picked their way along, maintaining a spirited conversation. 1 hey turned now into a narrow thoroughfare. where the discordant notes of a < hinese fife anil the scrapy voices of ( hinese singers proclaimed the presence of a native theatre. The party stopped there but for a moment. The guides then led the way forward, past dirty venders' stands, dimly lit stores, crowded barber shops, w'here smoky windows all but defied the curious gaze of visitors, offensive meats'nops and busy restaurants, to a broad alleyway beyond, where a sharp turn to the left was made. Along this street the party was guided. anil as Egbert Thorne glanced past his wife's head at a grated window which alone broke the solid cement surface of a low building at his right, he caught a glimpse of a face that startled 'him. He leaped to the nearest doorway. and before his astonished wife or companions could stop him . he hail ascended a rickety flight of stairs anil was banging at a door within in search of Wung Hi. He had seen the cruel, malicious countenance of the cunning Mongolian who had caused a revulsion of feeling within him long ago. and. forgetful of everything else but his desire to visit some punishment upon the audacious cook, he had dasheil after Wung Hi the moment his faee had come into view.

A guide ami one of the young men in the party followed Thorne. There was a crash at the head of the narrowstairs and a shout which terrified the waiting crowd below. Wung Hi had seen Thorne start up the stair. and divining his purpose. hail gained a hallway by another door just in time to see his former masts r try the door at the head of the steps. Thorne had espied him then and given chase down a dark passage way until the Chinese had darted into a window opening and had gained an improvised balcony within a court disappearing in the darkness at its end. When Thorne had reached the window opening, a huge trap had been slammed in his face and he had wrecked it in his effort to pursue the hated Celestial! Then the guides and his friends had grabbed him. and he was coaxed back into the open—breathless, an I visibly excited! He made his explanations as best he could and soothed the fears

of his wife. and. after all. the lively scrimmage in the low cement house was accepted as an extremely interesting and jolly incident. But it was a serious matter to Egbert Thorne. There was much to see after that—anil from the broad thoroughfare the guides led the way into another maze of crosscuts and passages, where strings of pretty lanterns threw a dull glow upon uninviting hovels that leaned against each other there as if for support. and where dirtshadows and streaks of light, droppin liegrinieil Chinese in loose garments anil slovenly footwear. waddled along in the shadows anil streaks of light. dropping from sight mysteriously when they had reached a point where some underground tunnel found its way to the earth's surface, and slinking through low doors which they bunged viciously after them! The incident of a fewmoments ago was all hut forgotten with these later surroundings to contemplate. At one point the small party was taken into a homelv store, but the air—or really the lack of it’ had been so offensive, that its members hurried liaek into the so-called street, not even pausing long enough to observe the things of interest which the chattering guides vainly strove to describe to them. Just beyond a dingy fruit-stall, where the odour of a smoking lamp dispersed the last vestige of a possible scent from the ware with which the dealer's timeworn trays were stacked, was the entrance to a hall or passageway, hung in decorations of a gorgeous hue ami carpeted with a coarse straw matting that had long since had its pattern trodden out of all shape. Here the guides announced a flourishing josshouse would lie found, where a neverending worship of hideous idols and big-eyed monsters could be witnessed. The members of the party followed on—through one passage and another, and at last encountered the temple of the wooden gods, where in savagerv and ignorance the superstitious Celestials were wont to grovel at the feet of their own carved and painted creations! It was an interesting sight, and from this the group pressed on. now thoroughly taken up by the un-heard-of spectacles which presented themselves in this degraded quarter. Thorne was in the lead and assisted his wife and a young lady guest along the zig-zag passageways into which the guides had plunged. The others foilowed at his heels. A flight of steps were descended now, and the visitors came into a room where only the sputtering lights of numerous pipes and the faint glow of half-hidden candles enabled them to see at all! It was an opium den. The rank atmosphere made them anxious to go back again, but the guides moved on to an exit at the other end of the room and the adventurers followed.

Another descent, where a flight of steps ended a narrow ballway. and th** little party found itself in a strange underground court, where countless dens were ranged along the walls, and

where the weird, uncanny wailings of restless crooning heathens struck terror and then wonderment to the hearts of many in the crowd. Along the slanting and shaky balconies the visitors ventured now, only to be drawn in different directions where a trapdoor in the wall happened to be open and where a peep could lie taken of the sight within. There the rauk-and-tile of the coolie class was sleeping or doddering about — poor wasted wretches, who cared not how they existed in the flesh as long as they could revel in the fancies which their neveridle pipes crowded into diseased and stupefied brains' A short, piercing shriek, cut short as if the one who set it up had been snatched away—the banging of a door and the start let! visitors rushed back to the point of entrance in great alarm. Egbert Thorne had been showing two of his guests the mechanism of the average dope fiends pipe, which «i guide had secured for inspection, and his wife had passed on with others of the party to a bend in the balconv upon which they stood. He walked back hastily and demanded of the guides to know what the cause of the excitement might lx*. ‘‘Where is Mrs Thorne? he exclaimed, as he ran his eye madly over the crowd, ami then looked about him in desperate haste. "Where is ntv wife—where is she —come find her!" He snatched the nearest mtide and dragged him down the balcony on the run. The ladies screamed and the men turned pale. A dozen trapdoors flew down and listless faces were stuck out into the court. •Mrs Thorne! Where can she be! She is gone!” One of the young women fainted. In a perfect fury and insane with apprehension, poor Egbert Thorne raced from point to point in the crazv court, still dragging the protesting guide after him. and shoutnow like a maniac for the woman he could not find. Along one balcony and down another he raced, calling and cursing, and with each moment his frenzv grew apace. The panic became complete. Every available foot of ground in the place was gone over, and then, like a tiger at bay. the bewildered husband drew himself up at one end of the court and shrieked defiance to the denizens of the chamber. He grabbed the (smaller of the three guides and hurled him to the balcony beneath. He struck the other down before him. and threw his weight against a door that fell with a crash and buried a smoking heathen beneath it. Another door, and another, he battered down, and now his friends were helping him. crazed almost as much as he. He cried aloud the name of his wife and tore the flesh of his hands into shreds as he frantically clawed at the doors and partitions about him, and wrested rotten timbers from their place. He dove into this den and then into that, and swept down whoever stood in his wav. He called and called, and hoarsely urged his companions to aid him. He ran from one point to another in blind and desperate helplessness, and pounded at the walls with terrible strength! He begged, threatened, cursed, wept and prayed, and then, with the blood streaming from his face and hands he staggered toward the low door through which he had entered and fell, fainting, as he reached it.

All Hongkong soon knew of the sensational occurrence in the Chinese coolie quarter, and a great public sympathy was shown for Egbert Thorne. A squad of police and detectives had rescued the party that night, and a strong effort had been made to locate Wung Hi and his colleagues, and to frustrate their efforts to abduct the American’s wife. But the lion who deals with a snake is at a disadvantage, and thus were the energetic peace officers of Hongkong handicapped in the quarter where treachery was the life's study of every inhabitant —when it came to a matter of contention! Hours lengthened into days, and days into weeks, but Wung Hi was never found, and the men who scoured the city for him could not even carry encouragement to the frenzied husband who searched and waited and aged under the terrible strain!

The Egliert Thorne of former days ceased to be. A lient and frowning fellow with a drawn face that reflected the agony that must have lieen within his soul passed up the streets of Hongkong now scarcely knowing his liest friend. The office in Lower Hongkong passed to other hands, the

pretty cottage in the better quarter, with its quaint angles and dainty settings, went for a low figure, and the environments of old were exchanger! for the influences of a solitary, heartbroken existence which had found its Iteginning in the very heydey of a happy career. Pitying friends sought at first to cheer ami encourage Egbert Thorne, but their efforts accomplished nothing. ami little by little they grew lax and then indifferent—and then drifted a wav.

The topic was worn threadliare by the gossips, and it took but a short time for the outside world to relegate the whole affair into oblivion. Then almost everybody forgot Egbert Thorne. Prosperity had fed the world's flame of friendship for the man- adversity had put it out!

It was with but momentary interest and mild enthusiasm that the commi.nity which ten years ago hail been fired and thrown into a state of upheaval over the outrageous abduction of Mrs Egbert Thorne accepted the intelligence one day that a poor wanderer in the country districts, who had reached the home of a missionary. had proved to be the once-loved and landed leader of Hongkong's most fashionable set. There was one lieing in the English port, however, who fell upon his knees when he heard of it ami thanked God for the restoration—and that was Egbert Thorne, who. aged and embittered, had dragged out a back-street existence —waiting, waiting, waiting! He sped to the point from which the news proceeded—but what eared the world for the meeting and for the story that was at best but the sequel to a strange incident of long ago. The story, as the press got it. made a most readable item, but where a public fever had once raged but a faint flush now passed, and when the newsmongers had run the thing to earth once more, it was done for—for all time to come! Better, perhaps, that things had thus changed, and that but few remembered Egbert Thorne, for the coneluision of that tragic event of years ago which involved two lives could then be worked out. far beyond the range of that lens which publie opinion is wont to focus upon incidents of the kind. Perhaps, after all. a divinity, in mercy and forethought had provided for all. When the deadened eyes of Egbert Thorn.' gazed upon the saddened face of his wife and his trembling arms held her wasted body close to him once more, the story of years in sorsow and of years in pain had been told—but that was the story of immortal love, and not the commonplace tale which reached the outside world, explaining, as it did. that Wung Hi had shipped his captive out of Hongkong in spite of the vigilance of officials, but had been unable to follow himself, because of a certain opposition to him which arose among the highbinders who looked upon his act with disfavour.

Thorne sat beside a low couch, and his grayed hair all but touched that of his failing, unnerved wife, as be held her withered hand ami listened to the details of the awful parting. Wung Hi had seized and bound the helpless woman in an instant, and, aided by others, had carried her through long passageways into the open air. He had sent his companions on then, anti had promised to overtake them and pay them well, but had returned to notify his secret society liefore he himself set out. The captive woman had been conveyed in haste and with line caution to a district far to the north. and there her guards had quarrelled ami fought a battle which resulted ultimately in the death of both. Wung Hi had failed to keep his promise, and the conspirators disagreed as to the same, one favouring a plan to liberate the woman, the other declaring that death would be the penalty for the one who failed to wait for powerful Wung Hi. Mrs Thorne had received good treatment from the Chinese, who feared Wung Hi. her “owner." and she had strength enough left to make her way to a village, where a poor Portuguese family had taken her in. and where she had soon afterward fallen ill. A raging fever had been fought by the good-hearted settlers in an ineffectual way. and a terrible sickness had overcome her. When months had gone by, and the faithful nursing of her protectors had baffled the efforts of Death to take her. she had come out of the ordeal—deprived of memory! A lapse of years had followed, of which she remembered nothing, and they had continued to care for her. Then little by little she had regained her better reason, and finally one day she came to realise who and where she was. and she had begged the simple folk about her that they take her back home. They brought her to the missionary then, weak and bro-ken-hearted. and there in turn the good man who greeted her attended to her wants and notified the world of her presence. The shock—the very joy of meeting after all this—brought on the same dread malady, and this time it preyed not upon a strong and vigorous woman, but upon a weak and failing being who had been torn and seared with misfortune and grief, and left by the plodding years stripped of her womanly strength.

Thorne rallied the remnants of his small means and secured the liest ntedical aid he could get. And when the struggle had finally ended one night, with a blessing from her lips for him. and his great arms holding her up. he had stooped there until those about him had taken him away by force—talking to her and telling her of his love for her. and letting the burning tears that streamed down his wrinkled cheeks fall upon the ruffled gown that hid her pure, white throat, and drop upon her pale and lifeless face.

Of the few who followed the details that led up to Thorne's last and

greatest misfortune, there were some who marvelled much that the crushed and disheartened man should return at once to the scene of his former troubles. But baek he did come, and once more the observers saw his bent figure as he scurried up deserted streets and walked by himself in the outskirts of Hongkong. The wise ones said now that he was waiting once more—this time for Wung Hi. But Thorne made a confidant of nobody, and that was mere speculation. It was early spring, and Thorne had returned one evening from one of his leng walks in the country. He found his seat in the cheap restaurant where he had his meals nowadays, and, as he hung his hat upon a peg he noticed a well-dressed man of advanced years, who had taken a place directly opposite him. Thome ordered his meal and paid no further attention to the stranger, although lie inwardly marvelled that a man of such prosperous appearance should have hunted up this remote restaurant. He would, thought Thorne, have much better graced some up-town eafe. "You will pardon me. sir," remarked the stranger when Thome had quite dismissed him from his mind, and was busy with his meal, “but you are Mr Egbert Thome, .are you not?"

Thorne eyed the speaker with some suspicion, and replied even cautiously "Yes.”

"Well, it will be difficult perhaps for you to understand just why I address you thus, but I have eome a long way to see you. and I hope you will have confidence in my motives. I had a hard time in locating yon."

"What do you want?" “That is not easily explained. Mr Thorne, but I want first to state that I belong to a secret society which has sent me to you. and I would like to have you promise that, in the event of your failing to take an interest in the proposition I am about to make to you, or if you conclude that our attitude is an unwarranted one. yon will positively regard this as confidential and say nothing of the interview." “I fail to see how J could say anything about it when I do not even know who you are—much less the identity of the society yon speak of. But why do you, eome to me?"

"I will set your mind at rest as to who I am. I do not think we ever met. but possibly we have heard of each other." The stranger handed a card to Thorne. "Mr C. J. Manning. Manager. Second Bank of Britaih. Hongkong Branch. China.” was engraved upon it in neat lettering. “Yes. yes. I know who you are. sir. I was once in business here, years ago." “I recall the fact.” "I am pleased to know you. But how comes it that yon are hunting me up in an out-of-the-way restaurant?" “Mav T have the promise T asked for?” "Most assuredly—now that I know who you. are.” “Then T can explain in part, at least.” The man of business poured

out a glass of water and drank of it. “Mr Thorne.” he said, “I have the honour to be a member of the ‘Humanity Club." of which I daresay you have never heard.” “Not that I remember of.” “Its purpose and its plan are both very obscure, and are explained to but few men on this earth—circumstances qualify the man, by the way. and nothing else can.” “Well. I seek uo membership to any club.” “We can talk of that later. I have hunted you up only to ask that you spend one evening at the ‘Humanity Club’ with me.”

“I thank you. but I would not care to go.”

“Oh. this is not a matter of pleasure. I am aware that there could be nothing attractive about an evening of entertainment at any club for you. That is not the proposition. It is a matter of business, or at least of stern importance. I would appreciate it. sir. if you would trust to my judgment. Understanding the circumstances as T do. and do me this favour.”

“And will it be a favour?” “We will consider it as such, if that will induce you to come.” “I do not by any means understand you: but I will go if it is a matter of business.”

“Thank you. You will not regret it. There will be a conveyance at the corner nearest here at 8 o’clock sharp. I will be in it. Enter it when it arrives. I will take care of the rest, flood day. sir.” The men shook hands, and the manager of the Second Bank of Britain left the restaurant.

Thorne sat long over his meal that night, trying to figure out what this remarkable occurrence meant. The 'Humanity Club” —he had never heard of such a thing, and surely if it was in Hongkong at all it must have come into existence since the day when he was posted in such matters: but that, indeed, was long ago. He sat there a mid therattla of plates and the confusion which fumbling waiters managed to stir up until the pudgy, greedy-looking proprietor looked savagely at him. and seemed on the point of demanding rental for the chair he occupied. Then the hour when he was to meet the strange visitor was almost at hand—and he pulled his worn hat down over his eyes and passed out.

Thorne found the conveyance waiting at the appointed place, and was greeted by the bank manager as he stepped within it. There was but little said as they passed rapidly through numerous thoroughfares and brought up at last at the intersection of two of the busiest business streets during the daytime in the city. There were but few people about now. and they moved as reluctantly in the oppressive heat of the evening hours as they had under the glare of the sun that dav.

Thorne was conducted along a narrow alley-way. that had many bends and turns, through the rear of a large building, up three flights of stairs and was brought then to a shabby door, upon which Manning rapped lightly. A small slide flew back and he whispered something through it. Then a series of holts were released, a heavy chain was dropped and the door swung open.

Thorne was astounded to note as he passed in after Manning that the shahby-looking door was in reality both ponderous and strong, studded with heavy bolts, finished with a pretty veneer and thick enough to withstand the onslaughts of a small army. A liveried butler stood by the door and closed it after them. They passed down a carpeted passageway, where a wainscoting of leather blended prettily with a tinted papering, and they turned once more—this time into a suite of spacious rooms. How so splendid a retreat could have been tucked away in such a rough and unsightly neighbourhood and have its elegance so well concealed behind tumble-down doors and dirty walls was a thing that Egbert Thorne could by no means understand. He was led through a well-lit billiard-room, fitted up richly, where a number of gentlemen in loose, indoor blouses were playing pool, to a library beyond, where several loungers were talking and reading—and where Manning waved Thorne to a low and comfortable seat Thorne was astonished for the second time to see three or four members nod to him as he passed them—some of them he could scarcely remember at all.

A broad and artistic sideboard at one side of the room, stocked with every conceivable brand of liquor, was presided over by an English waiter. There were no natives allowed within the “Humanity Club” rooms. Manning summoned the group of gentlemen from the adjoining rooms and introduced Thorne to all of those who did not already claim acquaintanceship. He asked each one then to designate the sort of refreshment he would best like, but Thome declined with thanks when the invitation to partake reached him, and he was not urged thereafter to drink. Low wicker stools were placed Iteside each comfortable chair, and upon a tray which rested there was placed each individual concoction. Thorne thought he had never Itefore seen such a picture of solid comfort and luxuriance.

The members of the Humanity Club drew up in a circle and lit their fragrant Manila Stogies. A faint breeze came in from an open transom, where Thorne later learned an automatic fan was in motion, and a pair of dragoon standing lamps, that occupied a place at either end of the room, gave out a soft and agreeable light. “Gentlemen,” said Mr Manning, as he nervously nipped the end from his eigar and lighted a match, “we have Mr Thorne with us to-night, and I believe that the first thing we had better do is to afford him the explanation and information he is entitled to—even before we consider anything else. I would suggest that some* one briefly outline to him the nature of this organisation and why we came to summon him before us.”

“You can make it clear. Manning.” “Do the talking yourself, old man,” and several of the members thus simultaneously requested the speaker to become the spokesman of the crowd. “Well, then, Mr Thorue,” —and the bank manager sank into a deep chair — “I can best begin by telling you that this is a secret organisation in every sense of the word; that its existence is known only to those who have some actual connection with it. So sure were we that our purpose and aims would appeal to you. and that our object in getting you here would prove worthy in your eyes that we have taken you into our midst on the strength of nothing more than a promise that, if you failed to agree with our plans, you would say nothing of what you had seen and heard! You remember —you promised that?" “Yes, sir; 1 promised that.”

“Very well. ■ Now. Mr Thorne, when I told you that the name of this was the "Humanity Club." you might have accounted in some small way for its existence if you had given the matter any thought; that is. if you believed there was anything in a name! We are banded together here—an aggregation of heart-broken and crushed men. not especially because the misery of one loves the company of some one else’s misery, but because there is much to be fought for ami gained in the common cause of a restoration of rights, the adjusting of wrongs, the settlement of scores, and the comforting of our griefridden souls! This is a syndicate of sorrows There is not a man near you to-night but who has had his life blighted and made hollow by some infamous act of another — whether that be by murder, deception, treachery or what not. it does not matter—the fact remains that we each are carrying a mighty cross, and we are gathered, therefore, into one band as unfortunates who wait for the accomplishment of undertakings that you will later understand! “Pray, do not think that because this .apartment looks comfortable, and because each man appears eontented and at peace with the world, that there is one atom of happiness or of rest within these walls, for there is not! One part of our life is the task of concealing from others that which we feel—and the sting of adverse fate is borne silently and in patience as we wile away the years here in complete agony—although there are but few of the "Humanity Club’ who are not prosperous in some degree! “It scarcely matters where we started—an Englishman in Sydneyestablished the first chapter of this secret order—but we ean be found the world around now. though, perhaps. if circumstances had not thrown you into our hands just this way. you would never have known that such a thing as the "Humanity Club’ existed!”

Manning sipperl from his glass and then proceeded: “We know your story —we know it well! We have watcher I you for ten solid years, and the time has eome when we must ask you to join us. The grief that is locked within your heart to-night is no greater than is my own —for 1 have waited more years than you would guess for the apprehension of a faithless clerk whom I once employed and who fled with the wife whom I still idolize—whom I could forgive at this moment. Your sorrow is no greater than is that of Mr Dudley here, whose children were slain* in the interior, at the direction of a native official, who is nowon this island; it is probably no greater than that of Mr Crawford here, who w-as once accused of a crime he did not commit and was compelled to serve for it, while the real culprit still roams the limits of Hongkong an honoured man! You may grasp my idea now—we have a common cause the alleviation of sorrow—the settlement of grudges, if you are so pleased to regard it! We’ are law-abiding citizens. Mr Thorne, but we are of the belief that there are many things which the law is not broad and sympathetic enough to reach and rectify! We are not murderers, still we murder, if you wish to call it that, when one we mark in this organization comes at length across our path; and, mind you. the offenders are all thus marked! We are not savages—still we visit punishment for punishment. and the heathen who long ago beheaded the helpless children of Mr Dudley here, in following put a brutal. meaningless order, will settle the score one day with the forfeit of the cranium which planned that infamous slaughter! And so it goes. I could tell you of a dozen debts that have been thus squared, of a score of wrongs that have been thus avenged, but it is unnecessary, and it might deter you! We work in unison, with plenty of money and with the aid of salaried detectives. We are proof against discovery, and we drag out an

existence here -waiting, waiting to get even with something or somebody! Does the situation ap|>eal to you as yet ?" “It does!"

“Now, sir; we know what the details of your first great misfortune were; we know all about it. We have long sympathized with you. We know what you have done; what Wung Hi has done! We know where Wung Hi is at this moment!”

Thorne started visibly. He paled, and the muscles of his neck seemed to set and strain as he leaned toward Manning and drank in every word. “For God’s sake, tell me, then, where is he?"

“Mr Thorne, that will be accounted for in due time. First of all. will you consider membership? We are satisfied as to your worth and stability, and if you are satisfied as to our motive we will count you as one of us! There is an initiation in store, of course. 1 will state to you plainly that after that ceremony we will put you in the way of settling your life's grudge, and then you will be with us here to the end of everything! You will possibly aid us later, as we aid you now. What is your answer?" Thorne sat for several minutes in silence. He studied the floor while the blood surged through his temples. “I seem to feel the sense of justification that you feel, gentlemen,” he said at last, “and I accept. I am not a man of the old-time principles and theory. I hope I am true, and just, and worthy: but my life is gone, though I still live. lam of the world that is bound up within these rooms! 1 cannot tell you anything of my sorrow, I take it. for you probably know of it in its details. I thirst but for the atonement that must come, and in the mane of justice, if you ean hasten its arrival 1 appeal to von to do it!”

“Mr Thorne, we are sorry for you; we do know all, indeed.” said one of the gentlemen, who up to that time had been silent, “and I understand now that we have Wung Hi located and his

last habit reported upon. We marked him ten years ago!” ••You don’t say so!” "Yes, that is a fact,” remarked Manning.” and we can also explain to you that he has changed his name and disguised himself until it would be impossible to identify him in a court! He is a prosperous tea merchant here now. and but a few of his bigbinder associates are aware of his true identity! He never left here, although the police long since announced that he had died in Peking! "Wung Hi, or ’Sam Wo Sup,’ as be is now known, is a cautious and sly fellow even to this day. He has not forgotten —even if the public and the police have. However, he patronises a small barber shop in the rear of Weihei alley. We shall buy out the shop to-night—and you shall be its keeper with the rising of the sun!” Tears streamed from the eyes of more than one strong man in the circle that night as they took the hand of Egbert Thorne and bid him find entire justification in his heart for the step before he went further! The glasses clinked anew—the initiation was done —and a report came in that the shop had been bought for a small sum and that its occupants had left the vicinity. The garments and headgear of a Chinese barber were laid upon the couch assigned to Egbert Thorne that night, and in the stillness of the later hours he sat alone beside them and prayed and pleaded with his conscience and groaned in the agony of his lonesomeness. Henceforth Egbert Thorne, the maddened barber of the ‘‘Humanity Club." knew but one goal—the one he had dreamed of long ago—Wung Hi!

A dark and greasy creature, in flowing garments and worn shoes, with a string of braided hair hanging from his ill-shapen head, dodged down Weihei alley one evening and stopped before a warped and battered door. He fitted a rusted key within its lock and stepped inside. He lit a taper and a coloured lantern and set a stool with a basin of water upon it, just outside the door. He had been coming there for many days. Customers were scarce, but come they would, and although they protested when he clumsily cut them, and marvelled that he did not utter a word upon any occasion. they would drift back, to scold and storm and take their punishment at his unskilled hands with a fortitude that ignorance alone could have permitted!

It was the barber of the ‘‘Humanity Club,” and he toiled and waited in feverish expectation, for as yet the one customer who would alone be welcome in that shop had not stepped across its threshold! To-night, however, he felt that some sort of a climax was at hand, and he watched the shiny heads of the many who shambled by the door of his narrow den. flinging a curse mentally upon each — gloating over them in a realization that he was in their midst and so well disguised that even the most critical of their number had not suspected him! Day in. day out. he had brooded. brooded, brooded! The scenes of the past had but kindled the flames of hatred within him. and now he was mad —he was sure of it—•lead to everything in life but the burden of grief that he was compelled to ca rr v!

A red tasselled cap bobbed past the hole-like window of his shop, and a stoop-shouldered form darkened the doorway. Years had left their traces upon that cruel face, but the barber of the "Humanity Club" beheld in feigned calmness the 4iunted. terrible countenance of Wung Hi. To one who had thought as much as he of any living. recognition would have been easy. It was easy for the barber of the “Humanity Club" to trace behind the lines of that ehanged and distorted face the features that had been before him in waking apd sleeping hours for years. He stood at first irresolute, trembling, there beside his low barl>er’s chair. Wung Hi noticed nothing, but hung his cap upon a peg and pre pared to seat himself, chattering in a gutteral tone. He looked up in astonishment when the Itarber failed to reply to him. but with that glance came determination to Thorne, and he motioned that he could not hear. The tea mereant looked undecided and irresolute for a moment, and Thorne feared he would leave again, but Wung Hi settled back finally with a sharp outburst—probably of Chinese profanity—and signalled the fact that he wished his face shaved and not his head. The barber of the Humanity

Club felt that he was on fire. Again and again he paused and decided to leap upon the fiend, then something would restrain him, and suddenly his last sign of agitation was thrown off. He moved about, adjusting pans and stropping his razor, allowing himself those few moments in which to realise the fact that at last—at last Wung Hi was in his hands. The scurrying Chinese still filed past the door, which the barber swung to now with an air of carelessness.

He prepared his lotion and water and apparently paid no heed to the occasional muttering of the object sitting upon the crazy barber chair. He threw a towel across the chest of the Chinese at last, and then he turned the terrible face away from him, while he could take time in which to think. His brain was whirling, his heart see met! to have stopped, and he breathed harshly, spasmodically. He stepped to the side of the unsuspecting wretch finally and his popping eyes bespoke the fact that his last atom of self-restraint had flown. This was the crisis of all the years—it was the end—the end, and his mind reeled and toppled uner the strain. He groped with stiffening fingers along the dank and oily surface of the heathen's ugly throat, and measured with his burning eyes its snake-like bend and contour. He lifted instinctively from his side the sharpened instrument of honest toil that had fallen at last to a perverted use. and he caught the gleam of its keen edge as he turned it against the Celestial's dark blouse and reflected the one ray of light that wormed its way in through the alley window. He looked upon the saffron face beneath him and saw another beyond it, wan and sad eyed, even as he had seen it through the ledger in his office in the happy days. He thought he felt the hot breath of one he loved blowing against his cheek: he felt a small weak hand clutching at his own as if for help; he heard a forlorn cry and a lisped prayer, and then he rose anew within himself. He swept the wig from his head with his disengaged hand and dragged the grease in streaks from his bedaubed face. The voice of Cain rang in his ears, a lust for murder was in his heart.

He jerked the head of Wung Hi towards him. and when recognition came stared madly into the blanched face that met his own, certain of the confession of guilt that lay within the rat-like eyes. He held the writhing form of the heathen with horrid strength and pinned him down to the low chair, stifling a cry that escaped from the sinister face that Wung Hi was striving to draw away. For an instant Thorne clung to the shaking wretch and allowed him to contemplate the end. cursing between his rigid teeth this wrecker of his former life. Then, biting in frenzied terror at the arm across his face, and screaming fitfully as he struggled. Wung Hi tugged and fought, bowing out his small reptilian body until it seemed that the child-like muscles would have to snap, but with a greater strength than his, and in maddened determination, the crazed barber of the ‘‘Humanity Club” forced back the hands that sought to shield a shrunken. blackened neck, and. clutching tightly the oddly chosen instrument of death he cried aloud as if in glee and threw his weight upon the leaflike blade.