Achmed Abdullah

“ Sir Silas's voice rose a hectic octave. “What about our Virginian with his crimson-lined cape and his Elizabethan manners? What’s he doing while half the world is clawing at the other half’s throat to teach it decency? Is he doing his bit? Not at all! He spends his time drinking ginger-pop at the Club bar and raising his silly hat to slit-eyed Chinkies. No wonder he likes the Chinks—for I tell you he’s yellow——”
“Good evening, gentlemen,” came a soft drawl, and Jones entered, arm in arm with another man. ”

“ She smiled; and he repeated the question—he had been drinking heavily and his eyes were bloodshot—“Are you, girl?”
He walked over to her and pulled her up. He seized her arm threateningly. But, the next moment, the touch of her soft flesh through the diaphanous sleeve changed his brutality into desire.
“Never mind,” he said, his breath coming sibilantly; and with a rapid twist he pushed up her sleeve, exposing a beautifully modeled arm. ”

“ Collette shrugged her dimpled shoulders. She continued massaging her face in front of the mirror, appreciatively studying her superb eyes and her russet-colored, unlikely hair that piled up like a carved golden Florentine helmet. “What do I care, ma p’tite?” she asked. “I—enfin—I know no nationality.”
“I'm an American—and you’re French!”
“Bon sang! I mock myself of France and Germany and what-not. I get money where I can. The theatre—well—it does not give me a billion. Money knows no nation. All money is clean—” thereby unwittingly paraphrasing a Roman Emperor’s caustic saying. ”

“ Addison had turned deathly pale.
“You’re right, Kent,” he said in a headlong and vehement whisper that carried the length of the room. “But I still have the right to pick my company.” He swept a long arm round the table. “Come along, you chaps. This room is tainted—with that!”—he pointed openly at Jones—“and that!” pointing at von Pappenheim.
He stalked out of the room, and the others followed.
Jones smiled at his companion.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “The gentlemen were exceedingly rude. Victims of old-fashioned patriotism, I reckon. Think every German has a cloven hoof. I'm very sorry indeed. ”

“ Granted you’re right about Jones and the Hun, that still leaves the Manchu unaccounted for, and even Jones must know the man’s reputation. Why—Kung’s the most dangerous man in Asia to-day. He stands for everything our countries are fighting—tyranny, oppression, brutality. He was a chum of the old Dowager Empress. He’s a natural friend of Kaiser Bill. And there he and Jones and von Pappenheim chum it together at Collette’s. You should hear Belle’s tales. ”

“ In the meantime China and Germany are at peace. Von Pappenheim is the guest of China, and hospitality is a sacred duty according to certain wise words in the Kin-Kong-King.”
But—argued the consuls—von Pappenheim had done this and that, was doing this and that.
“Have you proof?” smiled the Governor.
“No!” It was Sir Silas speaking. “But the German is very intimate with Duke Kung Yi-Hsin, the Manchu. And the Duke is an imperialist, an enemy of the Chinese Republic.” ”

“ He’s a Manchu, an aristocrat. Some people say it was he who started the Boxer outbreaks. He is very famous—and very dangerous.”
“I don’t care. Manchu or plain Chink, he’s yellow, and I ain’t goin’ to hobnob with Yellows. Not yet awhile! Excuse me. Collie!”—and she flung out of the room, slamming the door.
A minute later the three men entered, ushered in by Wen Yat, the red-faced Kansuh butler. Collette shook hands with Jones and von Pappenheim, calling both by familiar and undignified nicknames—“Hello Thingumajee!” “Hello, Pappy!”—and bowed before the Manchu Duke. ”

“ He delivered a platitude, reminiscent of the Moral Reader, as impressively as if it were an epigram coined by George Ade, and he had the habit of stating tiresome truths that nobody cared to hear—nor to believe. But withal he was a strong man and often overwhelmed those who came into contact with him. ”

“ Sir Silas had accepted Jones’ invitation, he might have been a witness to the dénouement of the drama which had agitated Shanghai for so many days.
VII LET it be said here that both the Manchu and the German were absolutely sure of themselves. They had matched their wits against the picked brains of half the world and had always emerged victorious. Thus they were armed against all contingencies—except the obvious. ”

“ Sir Silas “came across”; and thus it was with the added prick of a personal injury that he held forth to his fellow members of the Shanghai Club.
“But Collette’s a nice girl of her sort,” insisted Addison. “She—and a Chinaman? Impossible.”
“Impossible!” echoed the American consul. “I’ve been thinking about Thingumajee, and I tell you what’s wrong with him. He’s a romantic donkey....”
“My dear fellow,” interrupted Carley, “we had all that before. If he were romantic, he’d be doing his bloody bit.”
“Wait,” Kent continued. “Don’t you see what I mean? He’s young, and an enthusiast. ”

“ Jones
by Achmed Abdullah
THE fellow shouldn’t he allowed in the Club. He makes the whole White community lose face,” said Sir Silas Holden, that red-necked, purse-mouthed British merchant knight, one evening at the Shanghai Club over his sherry and biscuits.
“Why?”
“Because he’s such a preposterous ass. Saw him swing down the Bund this morning, a black cape across his shoulders, thrown so that you could see a bit of the lining—and it was crimson, y'mind! Malacca cane in his left hand. Dragged it rather like a sword. I heard the ferrule click against the pavement. Romantic sound! ”