Astonished and angry as they were at the turn of events, the Chinese were shrewd enough to see they were helpless.  The soldiers stayed.  Hart went every day to inquire after the prisoners, and listened to their complaints about the ceaseless tread of the sentries under their windows all night.  “They never seem to sit down like other people,” 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: 

“You don’t seem very talkative to-day—­but of course, sometimes one feels more in the mood for conversation than others.  Besides, there is no need for you to tell me any of your news.  I have found out everything I wanted to know from these papers here.”  He had indeed; they contained the most important revelations as to the prospective movements of the Chinese troops outside the city, and also showed exactly how far the officials inside were co-operating with them.

There was no further need to prolong the interview, and Parkes began to make his adieus.  In China, these are not the slight things they are with us.  Host and guest have mutual obligations; the former, unless he is willing to risk being thought uncivil, must escort a visitor of rank to the outer gate himself.  But the Fantai cared little whether he was thought civil or not, and he sat stolidly in his chair when Parkes made a move to go.  He reckoned without his—­guest, who was not the man to be slighted.