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Deep underground, in one of the catacombs known only to the innermost members of the Chinese secret societies, was Long Sin's servant, Tong Wah, popularly known as "the hider," engaged in some mysterious work. A sinister-looking Chinaman, dressed in coolie costume, he was standing at a table in a dim and musty, high-ceilinged chamber, faced with stone and brick.
Then the owners of stools sat down on them, some leant on adjacent pillars, others curled themselves on the floor, but most remained on their feet as unwilling to miss a word, and of these were Tibble Steelman and his companion. Omnis qui facit peccattum, servus est peccati, followed by the rendering in English, "Whosoever doeth sin is sin's bond thrall."
The story is profoundly characteristic: like Ah Sin's smile in the poem, "childlike and bland"; but hiding wonderful depths of philosophy beneath. Laotse showed his deep Occult wisdom when he said that the Man of Tao "does difficult things while they are still easy." Liehtse tells you the story of the Assitant to the Keeper of the Wild Beasts at Loyang.
She had purposely let him play beyond the time set for their being together. "Good-night, Davy." She kissed him on the cheek. "I will keep the music for the sin's remembrance," she added, and went out into the night. "England is in one of those passions so creditable to her moral sense, so illustrative of her unregulated virtues.
Have you never thought, Yen Sin, 'I would like to be a good man'?" The other spread his right hand across his breast. "Mista Yen Sin velly humble dog. Mista Yen Sin no good. Mista Yen Sin's head on le glound. Mista Yen Sin velly good man. Washy colla fine." It was evidently an old point, an established score for the heathen. "Yes, I must say, you do do your work.
O you can't understand " O couldn't I! And, anyhow, one does not have to put himself through a whole criminal performance to apprehend its spiritual experiences. I understood all, and especially what he unwittingly betrayed even now; that deep thirst for the dramatic element in one's own life, which, when social conformity fails to supply it, becomes, to an eager soul, sin's cunningest allurement.
Oh, young man, you for whom this mother has suffered, you for whom she cherishes a love which is priceless and deathless, you will not hasten her into eternity by an act, or word, or look, will you? It would kill her to know that you had fallen under sin's destroying stroke.
My venom's good for something, 'cause God made it, Thy sin hath spoiled thy nature, doth degrade it. Of human virtues, therefore, though I fear thee, I will not, though I might, despise and jeer thee. Thou say'st I am the very dregs of nature, Thy sin's the spawn of devils, 'tis no creature.
Little cat say, 'no no." Yen Sin's head turned slowly and he spoke on to the bit of yellow silk, his words clear and powerless as a voice in a dream. "No no, Mousie, stay with little cat. Good little cat. Like see little mousie jump. Little cat!" Mate Snow wheeled on him, and I saw a queer sight on his face for an instant; the gray wrinkles of age.
The man who stood there knew that it was his doing, and the burden of his deeds bowed him bodily as he stood. But still he listened, and, as she sung, he watched her lips in the dark, inner mirror of sin's memory, and they drew him on. Little by little, he heard only her voice, and the others chanted but faintly as from an infinite distance.
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