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Updated: May 18, 2025
In dumb gratitude for this service, he had laid his celestial soul at the feet of the young American and sworn eternal allegiance. From the day Reynolds reëmbarked, Tsang's silken, slippered feet silently followed him from smoking-room to bar, from bar back to smoking-room. Whatever emotion troubled the depths of his being, no sign of it rose to his ageless, youthless face.
When the squall had passed, Reynolds addressed his companion from the depths of the pillows in language suited to his comprehension. "Me belong large fool, Tsang!" he said savagely. "Have drink too much. No good. You go 'long, I'm all right now." Tsang's eye swept the disordered room and returned to the figure on the bed. "Suppose me go," he said, "you makee one hole in head?"
If he cleared himself at the office it might be years before he could settle this new debt, but he could do it in time, he must do it. Then at last, light came to him. He would accept Tsang's sacrifice but it should stand for more than the mere material good it had purchased. It should pledge him to a fresh start, a clean life. He would justify the present by the future.
"Where's my pistol?" demanded Reynolds hotly, holding to the door to steady himself. Tsang's eyes, earnest as a dog's, were lifted to his: "He fall overboard," he explained suavely, "me velly solly."
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