"True," said Mr. St. John, tenderly; "then farewell until we meet again on earth or in the glory. Come, Nina darling," he whispered, gently raising the fainting girl and folding her in his arms.
"It is needless," put in Mr. Li. He spoke sharply and decisively; all this time he had been occupied with Wang, and Wang had been protesting and blaspheming and swearing by all his gods.
"Now," said Mr. Li, and his voice sounded terrible in its sternness and solemnity. "You know me, and I know that you have that key; I am not going to risk the lives of five innocent people; if you do not give up the key you die. As surely as there is a God above us, so surely do I send you to appear before Him." He drew a revolver from his pocket and held it close to the man’s eyes. "I give you exactly three minutes to make up your mind; if at the end of that time you have not confessed, I shall blow your brains out."
It is impossible to say whether Mr. Li would have carried out this threat. If he had attempted to do so, no doubt Mr. St. John would have thought it right to intervene, but Mr. Li knew his man, and before two minutes were up Wang was blubbering out that Mr. Li had dropped the key, and that he (Wang) had picked it up not knowing what key it was, and here it was if Mr. Li wanted it so much, where he had placed it for safety in his pig tail!
"You scoundrel," said Mr. Li, contemptuously. "I only wish I had the time to give you the thrashing you deserve; even now," he said, as he tore the key out of the man’s hair, "it may be too late the delay may cost us our lives." As he spoke he heard a noise behind him, and, looking round, they saw that their fears of discovery were realized. The enemy had come to the conclusion at last that the house was empty, and as they emerged from the wood, they caught sight of the little band, and uttered a scream of triumph. Young Crawford stood like a lion at bay, his noble head thrown back, his unsheathed sword grasped firmly in his hand, his eyes shining as if they were on fire. Mr. St. John stood beside him, endeavouring to shield the two shrinking girls. Would the lock never turn? There was something peculiar about it, and it was rusty—it seemed a century before it turned with an angry, rasping sound, but that sound was sweetest music in their ears.