one of the Chinese said pathetically. "They walk all night, all
night, and we cannot sleep." Parkes sent sympathetic messages, but he
remained courteously firm. Perhaps he thought a few wakeful hours were
not too high a price to pay for keeping Canton quiet.

There was one official, however, who had not been caught with the
rest. He was Fantai, or Provincial Treasurer, who remained quietly
hidden in a temple in one of the western suburbs till Parkes ferreted
him out. He and Hart and the mounted police then made a second
expedition. As soon as they reached the outer door of the place,
Parkes jumped off his pony and rushed in with such impetuosity that
the crowds of servants running before him had no time to warn their
master of the intruders' arrival. Parkes continued his rapid career
straight into the inner room, where the Fantai himself sat at a table
strewn with papers, absolutely calm, serene and unmoved. Parkes began
to talk; the Fantai remained silent. No matter, Parkes was very adroit
at carrying on a one-sided interview, and conversation did not flag.

"I've come to pay you a visit," said he; "and though you have not
mentioned your pleasure at meeting a new acquaintance, I am sure it
is none the less deep. Ah," he went on, looking over the paper-strewn
table, "you have even been kind enough to lay aside your work on my
account. Let us see. You were writing letters," and Parkes thereupon
read the finished and unfinished despatches under the Fantai's very
eye, then profusely thanked him for the useful information.

The Chinese sat superbly contemptuous through it all, and finally spat
over his shoulder, putting enough scorn into the action to freeze
the boldest. Yet Parkes had the gift of looking unconscious the whole
time, and babbled on gaily: