Kai Lung's Golden Hours. Bramah Ernest

and two of his mercenary accomplices. They are, as usual, bending their footsteps in the direction of the hospitality of a house that announces its purpose beneath the sign of a spreading bush. They are positioned as crossing the river to a set purpose, and the bridge is devoid of a rail in the hope that on their return they may all fall into the torrent in a helpless condition and be drowned, to the satisfaction of the beholders.”

      “It would be a fitting conclusion to their ill-spent lives,” agreed Wei Chang. “Would it not add to their indignity to depict them as struggling beneath the waves?”

      “It might do so,” admitted Fa Fai graciously, “but in order to express the arisement adequately it would be necessary to display them twice—first on the bridge with their faces turned towards the west, and then in the flood with their faces towards the east; and the superficial might hastily assume that the three on the bridge would rescue the three in the river.”

      “You are all-wise,” said Wei Chang, with well-marked admiration in his voice. “This person’s suggestion was opaque.”

      “In any case,” continued Fa Fai, with a reassuring glance, “it is a detail that is not essential to the frustration of Fang’s malignant scheme, for already well on its way towards Hien Nan may be seen a trustworthy junk, laden with two formidable crates, each one containing fivescore plates of the justly esteemed Wong Ts’in porcelain.”

      “Nevertheless,” maintained Wei Chang mildly, “the out-passing of Fang would have been a satisfactory detail of the occurrence.”

      “Do not despair,” replied Fa Fai. “Not idly is it written: ‘Destiny has four feet, eight hands and sixteen eyes: how then shall the ill-doer with only two of each hope to escape?’ An even more ignominious end may await Fang, should he escape drowning, for, conveniently placed by the side of the stream, this person has introduced a spreading willow-tree. Any of its lower branches is capable of sustaining Fang’s weight, should a reliable rope connect the two.”

      “There is something about that which this person now learns is a willow that distinguishes it above all the other trees of the design,” remarked Wei Chang admiringly. “It has a wild and yet a romantic aspect.”

      “This person had not yet chanced upon a suitable title for the device,” said Fa Fai, “and a distinguishing name is necessary, for possibly scores of copies may be made before its utility is exhausted. Your discriminating praise shall be accepted as a fortunate omen, and henceforth this shall be known as the Willow Pattern Embellishment.”

      “The honour of suggesting the title is more than this commonplace person can reasonably carry,” protested Wei Chang, feeling that very little worth considering existed outside the earth-shed. “Not only scores, but even hundreds of copies may be required in the process of time, for a crust of rice-bread and handful of dried figs eaten from such a plate would be more satisfying than a repast of many-coursed richness elsewhere.”

      In this well-sustained and painless manner Fa Fai and Wei Chang continued to express themselves agreeably to each other, until the lengthening gong-strokes warned the former person that her absence might inconvenience Wong Ts’in’s sense of tranquillity on his return, nor did Wei Chang contest the desirability of a great space intervening between them should the merchant chance to pass that way. In the meanwhile Chang had explained many of the inner details of his craft so that Fa Fai should the better understand the requirements of her new art.

      “Yet where is the Willow plate itself?” said the maiden, as she began to arrange her mind towards departure. “As the colours were still in a receptive state this person placed it safely aside for the time. It was somewhat near the spot where you—”

      During the amiable exchange of shafts of polished conversation Wei Chang had followed Fa Fai’s indication and had seated himself upon a low bench without any very definite perception of his movements. He now arose with the unstudied haste of one who has inconvenienced a scorpion.

      “Alas!” he exclaimed, in a tone of the acutest mental distress; “can it be possible that this utterly profane outcast has so desecrated—”

      “Certainly comment of an admittedly crushing nature has been imposed on this one’s well-meant handiwork,” said Fa Fai. With these lightly-barbed words, which were plainly devised to restore the other person’s face towards himself, the magnanimous maiden examined the plate which Wei Chang’s uprising had revealed.

      “Not only has the embellishment suffered no real detriment,” she continued, after an adequate glance, “but there has been imparted to the higher lights—doubtless owing to the nature of the fabric in which your lower half is encased—a certain nebulous quality that adds greatly to the successful effect of the various tones.”

      At the first perception of the indignity to which he had subjected the entrancing Fa Fai’s work, and the swift feeling that much more than the coloured adornment of a plate would thereby be destroyed, all power of retention had forsaken Wei Chang’s incapable knees and he sank down heavily upon another bench. From this dejection the maiden’s well-chosen encouragement recalled him to a position of ordinary uprightness.

      “A tombstone is lifted from this person’s mind by your gracefully-placed words,” he declared, and he was continuing to indicate the nature of his self-reproach by means of a suitable analogy when the expression of Fa Fai’s eyes turned him to a point behind himself. There, lying on the spot from which he had just risen, was a second Willow plate, differing in no detail of resemblance from the first.

      “Shadow of the Great Image!” exclaimed Chang, in an awe-filled voice. “It is no marvel that miracles should attend your footsteps, celestial one, but it is incredible that this clay-souled person should be involved in the display.”

      “Yet,” declared Fa Fai, not hesitating to allude to things as they existed, in the highly-raised stress of the discovery, “it would appear that the miracle is not specifically connected with this person’s feet. Would you not, in furtherance of this line of suggestion, place yourself in a similar attitude on yet another plate, Wei Chang?”

      Not without many protests that it was scarcely becoming thus to sit repeatedly in her presence, Chang complied with the request, and upon Fa Fai’s further insistence he continued to impress himself, as it were, upon a succession of porcelain plates, with a like result. Not until the eleventh process was reached did the Willow design begin to lose its potency.

      “Ten perfect copies produced within as many moments, and not one distinguishable from the first!” exclaimed Wei Chang, regarding the array of plates with pleasurable emotion. “Here is a means of baffling Fang’s crafty confederacy that will fill Wong Ts’in’s ears with waves of gladness on his return.”

      “Doubtless,” agreed Fa Fai, with a dark intent. She was standing by the door of the enclosure in the process of making her departure, and she regarded Wei Chang with a set deliberation. “Yet,” she continued definitely, “if this person possessed that which was essential to Wong Ts’in’s prosperity, and Wong Ts’in held that which was necessary for this one’s tranquillity, a locked bolt would be upon the one until the other was pledged in return.”

      With these opportune words the maiden vanished, leaving Wei Chang prostrating himself in spirit before the many-sidedness of her wisdom.

      Wong T’sin was not altogether benevolently inclined towards the universe on his return a little later. The persistent image of Fang’s overthreatening act still corroded the merchant’s throat with bitterness, for on his right he saw the extinction of his business as unremunerative if he agreed, and on his left he saw the extinction of his business as undependable if he refused to agree.

      Furthermore, the omens were ill-arranged.

      On his way outwards he had encountered an aged man who possessed two fruit-trees, on which he relied for sustenance. As Wong Ts’in drew near, this venerable person carried from his dwelling two beaten cakes of dog-dung and began to bury them about the root of the larger tree. This action, on the part of one who might easily be a disguised wizard, aroused Wong Ts’in’s