The trouble began over a disputed boundary—­the Tonkin frontier, to be exact.  One side, the Chinese, wanted the Red River for the dividing-line, would hear of nothing else, declared loudly that this was the natural division; the other, France, was equally obstinate for the older frontier between the State of Tonkin and China proper, because this meant far more land for her.  Meanwhile, in the disputed area, Liu Yung Fuh, a very famous soldier of fortune—­somewhat of an Eastern d’Artagnan—­roamed to and fro with his band of “Black Flags,” threw in his lot with the Chinese, and made harassing raids on the French side of the disputed border-line.  Like the picador at a bullfight, he maddened his enemy with dart-pricks, and the Chinese, who, to continue the simile, had the toreador’s part to play, reaped the enmity he provoked.  The French gave them battle at Pagoda Anchorage, routed them utterly, and seized Formosa.  This was the point where the I.G. first came upon the scene.  Once again he was to play his old part of peacemaker.  With the Nanking Viceroy Tseng Kuo Tseun as collaborator, so to speak, he went to Shanghai to interview the French Charge d’Affaires, M. Patenotre, and see what could be done.

[Illustration:  A SECRETARY GOING TO THE INSPECTORATE OFFICES DURING THE RAINY SEASON.]

This Viceroy, by the way, was what we should call a self-made man; that is, he had not risen to office by the usual route, which in China is the way of a scholar.  Undistinguished for any particular learning, he had none of those literary degrees which the conservative Chinese of those days prized above every other possession.  He was, moreover, quite conscious of his limitations and spoke of them to the I.G. a propos of the visit to Shanghai of two men who held the much-coveted position of Literary Chancellors.

“It will not be possible for me to make a success of these negotiations with the French,” he exclaimed ruefully, “because whatever I do these two men will find it out and disparage it in every way they can.  You see their view-point is that of distinguished scholars, and they despise an unlettered man like me.”

“But what would you say,” replied the I.G., “if these two learned gentlemen were made your colleagues in the business—­if they were ordered to work with you and share the responsibility?”

“Ah, that would be too good to be true,” was the Viceroy’s answer.  Nevertheless it did come true, because the I.G. telegraphed to Peking about it, and shortly afterwards an Imperial Edict appointed them to be associated with Tseng Kuo Tseun.  Did ever any one find a more diplomatic method of avoiding jealousies and closing the mouth of criticism.