red. At the end of the long street they would
find the house, a very fine house indeed--formerly a mandarin's palace,
they explained, but purchased a few months ago by a rich man who had
come there with his family to live. The tired men and tired mule pushed
on through the long street, gazed upon curiously by clustering Chinese,
huddled in doorways. They came to a high wall topped with broken glass,
a high, strong wall, surrounding a large compound. Beyond, at the
entrance, stood two stone lions, such as mark the homes of the rich and
great. But the great stone guardian lions were guarding a broken door.
The high, red lacquered door was split into many pieces, the hinges
holding, but the doors themselves split, so that a man's body could
crawl through.

Withers led the way, the shroff following. Within, the compound was
deserted. They made their way to the doors of the main house, which
had been smashed in. The rooms inside were empty, stripped, their
treasures gone, cleaned out. Very much in appearance like the godowns
in Tientsin. They made their way through the silent compound into the
women's compound in the rear. It was the same--ransacked, despoiled.
But there were many compounds and many houses, so together they passed
through moon gates, over elaborate terraces, beside peony mountains,
and summer houses, across delicate rock bridges with marble
balustrades. Silent, deserted, bearing the evidence of thorough
looting.

Then, quite at the rear, a woman appeared, the number-one wife of Li
Yuan Chang. She peered round the edges of a moon gate, hiding her body
behind it. She recognised Withers and the shroff and came forward. She
was very apologetic, very embarrassed, for she was wearing coolie
clothes. Her own, she explained, had been taken from her by the
bandits. Timidly she approached them, but the timidity was
embarrassment. She was very embarrassed to be found in coolie clothes,
felt resentment at the humiliation, and apologised repeatedly for her
appearance. She could think of nothing else. Then she led the way
still further to the rear, to a compound quite behind all the other
compounds and other houses of the gorgeous mandarin's palace. The last
stand of the defenders. They were scattered about the courtyard in all
attitudes, in grotesque and uncouth positions, all dead. She pointed
to a figure lying face downward, a thin, elderly figure, in
blood-soaked black brocade, with a magnificent queu lying at right