KAI LUNG'S GOLDEN HOURS
high official was not wholly stern as it moved in his direction. Ming-shu, on the contrary, disclosed all his voracious teeth without restraint.
"Calling himself Kai Lung," began the detestable accuser, in a voice even more repulsive than its wont, "and claiming"
"The name has a somewhat familiar echo," interrupted the Fountain of Justice, with a genial interest in what was going on rare in one of his exalted rank. "Have we seen the ill-conditioned thing before?"
"He has tasted of your unutterable clemency in the past," replied Ming-shu, "this being by no means his first appearance thus. Claiming to be a story-teller"
"What," demanded the enlightened law-giver with leisurely precision, "is a story-teller, and how is he defined?"
"A story-teller, Excellence," replied the inscriber of his spoken word, with the concise manner of one who is not entirely grateful to another, "is one who tells stories. Having on"
"The profession must be widely spread," remarked the gracious administrator thoughtfully. "All those who supplicate in this very average court practise it to a more or less degree."
"The prisoner," continued the insufferable Ming-shu, so lost to true refinement that he did not even relax his dignity at a remark handed down as gravity-removing from times immemorial, "has already been charged and made his plea. It only remains, therefore, to call the witnesses and to condemn him."
"The usual band appears to be more retiring than their custom is," observed Shan Tien, looking around.
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