"An example of Japan's purpose and her power is the cancellation of Mongolian autonomy," pursued Hsien Sgam. "When my people formed a government of their own, they expected the protection of Russia. But Russia failed. Semenov, the Cossack adventurer and agent of Japan, threatened invasion, and my people, frightened, appealed to China. The consequences you know. Hsu Shu-cheng, with four thousand troops, occupied Urga. Hsu forced the Hut'ukt'u to sign a petition returning Mongolia to China. Later it was learned that Hsu's troops were equipped with Japanese money."
Trent settled deeper in his chair, his eyes lifted to the roaring funnels where volumes of smoke were sucked up as by invisible vacua.
"But there is a key to supremacy in Mongolia," Hsien Sgam resumed. "It is the projected extension of the railway from Kalgan to Kiachta. Whoever finances that, thus linking China with Europe, through Mongolia, will be the sovereign power. Will Japan--or your Allied Consortium? I think, my friend, the former--unless it is prevented. And how can that be done?"
Hsien Sgam did not answer immediately. Finally:
"Mongolia can assert her rights--by force."
Trent lowered his eyes to the indistinct outline of the Mongol's face.
"She hasn't arms or ammunition or organization--and, furthermore, what good would a revolution do?"
Hsien Sgam answered the latter half of his question.
"It would give Mongolia self-government; and she could refuse a concession to any power to construct a railway through her territory. Organization? You spoke of that. No, they have no organization. But I have a dream--an ultimate--do you say Utopia? It is a union of the Mongols of Barga, the Buriats of Transbaikalia, the Chakhar tribe, the Khalkas, and even the Hung-hu-tzees, into a single unit--or, if you wish it, an empire. Tibet might be included. But that--that is only a dream. There is but one man who could possibly bring that about--and he is a pawn of China. The Dalai Lama...."
In the pause that followed, the glow of his cigarette showed Trent an imperial profile--like a bronze head of some Mongol conqueror he had once seen. A queer analogy struck him. Timur the Lame, who seared Asia with his vitriol. But there was an alien element in the likeness that he conjured--dust on the reflection. It haunted Trent and eluded analysis.