"Let me preface what I have to say," he said warningly, "by remarking that I have the reputation of being a very good friend—but a dangerous enemy."
"Who could doubt it?" Wu murmured, bowing admiringly.
"He is a rash man who dares to oppose me, Mr. Wu. Do you know my method of dealing with such a man?"
"I tremble to contemplate his fate. But I am never rash." Wu's voice was meek now—for no counterfeit could be so fine.
"I crush him, sir—crush him relentlessly."
"It is always interesting"—giving Gregory a half look—"to hear about the methods of great men."
"I mention these things to you by way of warning." The Englishman spoke gropingly; his irritation was growing.
"Warning?" Wu raised his delicate eyebrows delicately. "Really"—he sighed—"I'm almost afraid to follow you."
"I think my meaning is sufficiently clear."
"To yourself, no doubt; but to my limited understanding—if I might beg you to speak a little more plainly."
"I will. I will ask you a plain question. Are you my friend, Mr. Wu, or are you my enemy?"
Wu smiled openly, and there was a slight drawl in his voice answering, "Could I aspire to be the one, or presume to be the other? Can the rush-light claim friendship with the sun, or the mountain-stream declare war against the ocean?"
"Oh, yes, yes! you're very plausible!" Gregory threw himself back in his chair wearily, and he was weary.
"'Plausible' is not a very pleasant word, Mr. Gregory," Wu said quietly, but in a tone of curt resentment.
"You ask me to speak plainly."
