10
NEXT morning, not unexpectedly, the Chinaman presented himself before Ambrose in his cabin like a scowling apparition, and proposed, in respectful and professorial language, that he should accompany the party. “For,” said he, “a guide to the country, its manners and customs, its flora and fauna; an interpreter of the language of the people, and more especially of their state of mind in regard to the several members of the party; a softener of passions; a holder forth of the timely coin; and, if need be, one who can remind men at the appropriate juncture of the unfortunate results that follow unthinking interference with the obvious will of Fate—such a one would perhaps be not without use to the party.”
“Are you such a one?” asked Ambrose.
“While striving constantly to imitate the tranquil humility of the narcissus upon which we gaze through the port-hole, I am one who has made not altogether unavailing efforts to acquire the technique of such a one as I describe.”
“Then such a one had better address his further inquiries to Lord Sombrewater.”
The other bowed and accompanied Ambrose to the owner’s room, where he repeated his proposal. Ambrose noted with admiration how swiftly his chief put on an impassivity that did not seem less than that of the Chinaman. The little expressionless, pheasant eyes met eyes of unreadable black lacquer, and Ambrose records that there seemed to be a sort of communication going on, as between animals or birds.
Lord Sombrewater at once confirmed an impression which Ambrose had himself long since received. “You are a man of considerable understanding,” he said. “You have, very markedly, the characteristic visage of a Sage.”
“I have gone but a very little way,” the Chinaman replied, “in imitation of those who have obtained wisdom, or, more correctly, of those who have learned to throw wisdom away.”
“You are a deft waiter as well.”
“That, noble viscount, comes of having perceived the inner nature of plates, glasses, table-napkins and the like. It is in such a purely menial capacity that I venture to offer my inexpert services.”
“In what capacity were you on the navigating bridge that night we were driven ashore?”
“I desired to meditate from that exposed place upon the state of mind of the master when he said, ‘The self-controlled man occupies himself with the unseen and not with what is visible,’ and when he said, ‘Purify the means of perception, so that by doing nothing all shall be accomplished.’”
“Oh, well, by the means you mention you have accomplished much—or someone has.” Lord Sombrewater thought for a few minutes. He told Ambrose, when later observations had told him a great deal, that he was convinced the ship had been steered by some sort of energy-beam from the shore. Then he decided. It seemed to be his method, at moments in his career when important decisions were before him, to adopt any plan that offered itself. It is probable that he decided on some instinctive summing up of facts, or indications, intuitively perceived. He unreservedly accepted the proposal that the Chinaman should act as guide. “What shall we call him?” he asked.
“Such-a-one,” Ambrose suggested.
“Good. I nearly made him minute-writer in your place, Ambrose. I rather fancy him. But we industrial princes can’t have people assassinated when they are in the way.”
Ambrose considered the point. “I suppose not,” he said thoughtfully—“not as a rule. But here nobody would ever know if you waited till we were some way inland. Quentin would do it for you.”
Sombrewater laughed loud and long. “You ignore the possibility of any affection a fellow might have for you.”
“No, no,” replied Ambrose. “I make due allowance for it in my estimation of the probable course of events.”