and are in deadly fear of them. But Wu knows a game worth ten of that: he handles them—the 'White Lily' (about the dirtiest of them all), the Triad (that bunch made the T'aiping Rebellion), the Shangti Hui (the Association of the Almighty, if you please), and that prize band of villains, the Hunsing Tzu, and the devil knows how many more. I tell you, Mr. Carruthers, we've got to get to the bottom of this thing, and get there quick, or there won't be a stick left in China belonging to the Company, or a vessel on the high seas flying its flag."
"Well, old chap," the junior said cheerfully, "Mr. Gregory is no schoolboy. He'll give this cursed gentleman of tongs and mystery a run for his money—a damned fine run—I'll have a bet with you, any odds you like—and we'll have a damned lot of fun watching him do it. But, I say, we don't know that you are barking up the right tree; but if you are—and admitting for argument's sake that Mr. Gregory has offended this top-dog Chink or whatever he is—I say, why the deuce should Lord High Pigtail want to take it out of Basil?"
Holman—his mother had been a Scotchwoman—had a tingling suspicion why, but he shrugged his shoulders and evaded, saying didactically, "When you've been in China as long as I have, you'll know as much about their ways and their motives as I do, and that's—nothing!"
