Page:Weird Tales Volume 37 Number 01 (1943-09).djvu/84

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Death in a Gray Mist
83

ever seven men occupied the beds for the remainder of the night.

Not long after dawn, they rose, dressed and went to the tea-room to have morning rice. Curiously, for the first time, they studied one another. It was at that moment that knowledge came to them that they were all at the inn for the same purpose—to kill Chung Kuo. But they did not suspect that they had all been hired by the same official, Colonel Nagai. Certainly the colonel did not underestimate the resourcefulness of his enemy. Chung Kuo might easily have overcome and exterminated one opponent. He might even be able to trick two or three. But seven was an impossible number for any man to face, especially since every one of the seven was an experienced killer, who had no compunction whatever about shooting a man from ambush.

The old man who brought them rice and tea was benignant and smiling. He was also very efficient.

Finally To-jun voiced the wishes of all, when he said, "Where is your master, Chung Kuo?"

"I have no master," said the old man gently. "I am free. The sky is mine and my eyes roam at will among the stars. 'When the bells and drums sound in harmony, and the sounding-stones and flutes blend their notes, abundant blessings are sent down'."

"How can you quote from 'The Book of Poetry' when our land is overrun by Japanese?"

"The crickets too have come and gone; so endeth every blight. And now the sky is filled, with abundant music, perhaps this new plague that has come upon us will have a difficult future."

"Interesting, but still you have not answered my question. Where is Chung Kuo?"

"Chung Kuo is everywhere, like the breeze that brushes your shoulder."

"But when will he return to the inn?"

"In good time, perhaps today, perhaps tomorrow. It does not seem long since I have talked with him."

"You are very loyal to Chung Kuo."

"I am loyal to any traveler who pauses for rest and tea."

One of the other renegades, Fan Su lost his temper. Never did he have much patience. "Maybe a horse-whip might give him better memory."

"Very doubtful," replied the old man, "but of one thing be assured, if I am molested you will be deprived of rice. We do not feed our enemies for long. Would I be presuming to point out that 'Five Elm Lodge' is not called 'The Black Inn' without reason. Threats are wearisome, they sour the tea."

Fan Su sprang to his feet. "I'll not stand for this!" he cried, but his arrogance was short-lived, he tripped and fell and blood flowed from his nose."

"Quite frequently," mused the old servant, "the tyrant ends up by being ridiculous."

To-jun who had started the conversation was angered that Fan Su had taken the initiative away from him. He decided that at the first opportunity he would avenge the slight. If Fan Su saw another sunrise it would be a surprise to him. To-jun had had a Japanese mother, and his father had been worthless. In a land where every man worked he had devoted his entire time to samshu. Later he became a brigand though with indifferent success. However his son followed willingly in his footsteps, with one difference, he lacked the least semblance of culture. He would kill a man or a pig with equal facility provided he was paid for it. He had long, strong fingers and a short temper. Patience was unknown to him.

Meanwhile the old servant, with complete indifference to their presence, pro-