"Gentlemen," said pretty Zinca Klork, her eyes bathed in tears, "do save him before he is sentenced--"
"Yes, my darling," said Madame Caterna, "yes, my heart, we will save your sweetheart for you, and if a benefit performance--"
"Bravo, Caroline, bravo!" exclaimed Caterna, applauding with the vigor of the sub-chief of the claque.
We left the young Roumanian to the caresses, as exaggerated as they were sincere, of the worthy actress. Madame Caterna would not leave her, declaring that she looked upon her as her daughter, that she would protect her like a mother. Then Pan-Chao, Major Noltitz, Caterna, and I went off to the company's offices at the station.
The manager was in his office, and we were admitted.
He was a Chinese in every acceptation of the word, and capable of every administrative Chinesery--a functionary who functioned in a way that would have moved his colleagues in old Europe to envy.
Pan-Chao told the story, and, as he understood Russian, the major and I took part in the discussion.
Yes! There was a discussion. This unmistakable Chinaman did not hesitate to contend that Kinko's case was a most serious one. A fraud undertaken on such conditions, a fraud extending over six thousand kilometres, a fraud of a thousand francs on the Grand Transasiatic Company and its agents.
We replied to this Chinesing Chinee that it was all very true, but that the damage had been inconsiderable, that if the defrauder had not been in the train he could not have saved it at the risk of his life, and at the same time he could not have saved the lives of the passengers.
Well, would you believe it? This living China figure gave us to understand that from a certain point of view it would have been better to regret the deaths of a hundred victims--
Yes! We knew that! Perish the colonies and all the passengers rather than a principle!
In short, we got nothing. Justice must take its course against the fraudulent Kinko.
We retired while Caterna poured out all the locutions in his marine and theatrical vocabulary.
What was to be done?
"Gentlemen," said Pan-Chao, "I know how things are managed in Pekin and the Celestial Empire. Two hours will not elapse from the time Kinko is arrested to the time he is brought before the judge charged with this sort of crime. He will not only be sent to prison, but the bastinado--"
"The bastinado--like that idiot Zizel in _Si j'etais Roi?"_ asked the actor.
"Precisely," replied Pan-Chao.
"We must stop that abomination," said Major Noltitz.
"We can try at the least," said Pan-Chao. "I propose we go before the court when I will try and defend the sweetheart of this charming Roumanian, and may I lose my face if I do not get him off."
That was the best, the only thing to do. We left the station, invaded a vehicle, and arrived in twenty minutes before a shabby-looking shanty, where the court was held.
There was a crowd. The affair had got abroad. It was known that a swindler had come in a box in a Grand Transasiatic van free, gratis, and for nothing from Tiflis to Pekin. Every one wished to see him; every one wanted to recognize the features of this genius--it was not yet known that he was a hero.
There he is, our brave companion, between two rascally looking policemen, yellow as quinces. These fellows are ready to walk him off to prison at the judge's order, and to give him a few dozen strokes on the soles of his feet if he is condemned to that punishment.
Kinko is thoroughly disheartened, which astonishes me on the part of one I know to be so energetic. But as soon as he sees us his face betrays a ray of hope.
At this moment the carter, brought forward by the police, relates the affair to a good sort of fellow in spectacles, who shakes his head in anything but a hopeful way for the prisoner, who, even if he were as innocent as a new-born child, could not defend himself, inasmuch as he did not know Chinese.
Then it is that Pan-Chao presents himself. The judge recognized him and smiled. In fact, our companion was the son of a rich merchant in Pekin, a tea merchant in the Toung-Tien and Soung-Fong-Cao trade.