would steal away. The paths of the jungle were all known to him, and he would hide till morning. Then, travelling through the Dyak villages, he would reach Kuching, and take ship for Singapore, where men are clustered like bees in a hive. Beyond this point, A-chang did not carry his speculations. Singapore was the limit of his geography. How should enemies find him there? All would be joy for ever! Whilst, to dissipate his terrors, he thought of a future time, all luxury and delight, a sudden drowsiness came over him. He strove against it vainly. His eyes closed, his limbs relaxed. With a final effort, stimulated by superstitious dread, A-chang staggered to the wall, recovered his diamond, thrust it into a fragment of bamboo, which he stopped with rice and mud, and dropped it amongst the smouldering embers. Then, like a man weary to death, he rolled upon his back and slept.

Before going further with this tale, it is necessary to say something of the Hwuys; the word is spelt Hué in Singapore, Australia, California, and other lands where white men have their notice drawn perforce to these associations. The number of Chinese secret societies is much greater, doubtless, than Europeans have discovered, but fifty at least have been identified with more or less exactness, all or very nearly all containing elements that may militate against public order. The whole subject is fascinating, but at this moment we are concerned only with the two chief Hwuys, the T'ienTi and the Wu-Wei-Keäou-the Heaven-and Earth or Triad, and the Do-nothing or White Lily, often mistranslated into NoHypocrisy. The former of these is so ancient that it claims to have been instituted by the mystical emperor Yao, but until the last Tartar conquest it appears to have been no more than a philosophic mystery, of high metaphysical aims and benevolent intentions. Its symbols, ceremonies, usages, are sufficiently well-known to prove that the T'ien-Ti Hwuy and European Freemasonry sprang from the same root, and diverged in times so modern, comparatively, that the proceedings at initiation, and even the words, are substantially the same. If any reader doubt this fact, before cavilling let him consult Gustav Schlegel's translation of a text-book which he got hold of.

At the present day, however, this powerful society is an abiding terror to the Imperial government, and a bugbear to European authorities wherever Chinamen have settled. There is no reasonable doubt that the Taeping rebellion sprang out of it. The name Taeping is that of a recognised order in the T'ien-Ti association, and the title Wang, originally assumed by the leader of the movement, is the precise equivalent of our Provincial Grand Master

in Masonry. The purposes of the society now are political, and its tremendous machinery is employed in silence for prosecuting ends unavowed. Though not malignant, as are some rivals, its enormous ramifications, its wealth, and the unquestioning obedience of its proselytes, make it a fearful weapon lying in the hands of an unknown authority.

More mysterious still, vastly more terrible, is the Wu-Wei-Keäou, which ranks next in point of influence and first in activity. It is supposed to date from the Tartar conquest, and from the earliest time it has been at variance with government and social laws. Very little indeed is known about this association, but now and then it makes a tragic appearance in history. In the reign of KienLung, shortly after its foundation, the White Lily devised a scheme for blowing up the palace at Pekin, and raising all the eighteen provinces in revolt. By mere chance, this plot was revealed at the moment of action, and many thousand associates were executed, after an abortive but desperate insurrection; 3,000 were decapitated in one day at Nankin. But the Hwuy, retiring underground, soon recovered strength, and endless trouble of every sort has it since created. Nobody suggests an object which the Wu-Wei-Keäou may be pursuing at the present time, save malevolence, mischief, plunder, and murder; but it has an object, no doubt, and probably one grand and noble in conception. For the social practices of the White Lily are fanatically ascetic. To eat anything besides rice and the plainest vegetables, to drink liquids other than water or tea, are crimes punished with death. At lodge meetings everyone must appear in white cotton. Silk or fur may not be worn at any time, and it is only to avoid public notice that a member is allowed coloured clothes out-of-doors.

These two or three external details make up pretty well all we know of the White Lily tenets. But their practices are too evilly notorious. No one in a Chinese settlement cares to gossip about the society. The authorities, native or foreign, ignore it so far as they can, whilst watching and spying uninterruptedly. When a Chinaman is found dead, with marks too well-known upon his body, the police, if they can, return the case as one of suicide, and everybody is glad to hear the last of it. Occasionally, of course, some English magistrate learns the truth, and loyally, though very unwillingly, he undertakes an investigation which never discovers the people really guilty. Supernatural powers are universally attributed to the White Lily; popular terror and fascination strengthen its evil influence. At a certain grade, members are believed to be initiated in magic science, and it seems likely that the chiefs possess unusual

skill in mesmerism, legerdemain, and kindred arts, backed perhaps by secrets of drug and philtre. Some readers may recall the extraordinary panic which seized all China in 1876, when the "tails" of the Celestials were docked by unseen machinery. No more astonishing trick has ever been perpetrated in the history of the world. At home in his house, at the theatre, in the fields, in the street, in bed, a man's tail suddenly dropped clean off. Dozens of foreigners, the leading people of a dozen towns, bear the testimony how they themselves have seen, with their own eyes, a man walking along the street, majestically virile with a pendant tail, which there and then parted company with the owner, leaving him stupefied with shame and fright. Though the prisons choked, and scores of men were executed on suspicion, the authorities discovered nothing, save only the fact that the Wu-Wei-Keäou was at the bottom of the scandal. Suddenly as it began, so suddenly it ceased, leaving a subject of conversation at the local dinner parties quite unique in its charm of mingled mystery and fun.

I hope some one better acquainted with the matter will pursue this interesting topic of the Chinese Hwuys; I have said all that is necessary for my tale. In Sarawak it is death to belong to a secret society. This sweeping edict was passed eleven years ago, in the panic caused by a number of unusual atrocities. The police traced the crime far enough to show what grave perils to society may arise at any moment from these unscrupulous and irresponsible conspiracies. Neither the T'ien-Ti nor the Wu-Wei-Keäou was concerned in this particular assassination. It proved to be the work of the Ko-Lao Hwuy, a very modern league lately recruited amongst old soldiers. Upon the eve of his execution, a member of that gang wrote upon the wall some fragmentary and perplexing confessions, in which the names of three chiefs were given as the designers of the murder. If I remember rightly, these all escaped, but the branch of the Ko-Lao established at Kuching was broken up, for a time at least.

The Kunsi itself, the co-operative gold-working association at Bau, is a secret society as well as a business concern. Once upon a time, when government did not watch it jealously as now, the Kunsi resolved to take possession of Sarawak, and rule the country. Its orders went out at evening, and next day the capital was in flames, the Rajah a fugitive in the woods, every Englishman caught was dead, and the bishop had sworn allegiance under pagan ceremonies to the chairman of the gold-diggers' guild. This was in 1859, and although the rebels were defeated ultimately, with desperate slaughter, it is a recollection which would justify more stringent measures than the Sarawak government adopts. One man only, I

believe, has been executed under the law above mentioned, and it was invoked only because evidence could not be obtained to convict him of a homicide which he had certainly committed. It remains only to say that each Hwuy lies under despotic control of the president, elected by the council, who again are elected by a larger body, and so on downwards. No member is acquainted with the name of any official, excepting some of those immediately above him. The president is often a mere coolie, so report goes, but always a man of talent and courage.

When A-chang awoke it was night. He rose and groped for a candle, struck a match, and the small hut burst into light; then vanished again in obscurity, as match-box and candlestick dropped clattering on the mud floor. That instant's glow had displayed two sitting figures, one by the door, the other by the hearth. A-chang's teeth chattered, and the cold perspiration wet his brow, wrinkled and ghastly with fear.

"Light the candle, my child!" said a voice so near as to show that one of the two had risen. "We have come to visit the luckiest of the sons of Han!" As he spoke, the stranger felt about for the candle, and lit it.

The men were not unknown to A-chang. A leading merchant of Bau was one, an influential member of the Kunsi; in appearance an oily, comfortable personage, beaming with smiles. The other, he by the door, had charge of the picket, outlying sentries, and spies posted by the Kunsi round its central station, whose duty it is to watch over and aid the corps of smugglers, to intercept all wandering Chinamen and bring them to head-quarters, to keep an eye generally upon all who come and go. This man lived at the guard-house above Tanjong, whereby he commanded the river and the high road to Gombang. His name was Ku-Juh-Sang, and the merchant's, Inchi Ch'en.

"Rest, my son !" said the latter, patting the young man's arm. A-chang sat down; his wits had returned. "You are a youth highly favoured, and you will come to great honour. The gods have granted you a sight of the Holy Stone (Tai-pe-kong) of a pious and virtuous society. They led you to its place of concealment, and displayed it to you. This redounds to the credit of your worthy father, and all your respectable ancestors. Where is the stone?"

"I have surrendered it to the Kunsi."

"Nay, nay, my son, your tongue betrays the truthfulness of your heart. You are a virtuous youth. To keep that holy diamond would bring upon you tortures unspeakable. Do not irritate the powers to

whom it is sacred," and so on.

The Inchi's tones changed to menace

and command, but A-chang was resolute.

Impatient at length, Ku-Juh-Sang opened the door, and several coolies slipped out of the black darkness. They gathered, squatting, round A-chang, whilst the two leaders tried every hiding-place their long experience could suggest. In the hours thus silently consumed the prisoner had time to think. He saw that these men did not represent the Kunsi; were they officials of the Tien-Ti? He cautiously tested all those about him with the gestures of the brotherhood; none replied, or even seemed to notice. Assured now that he had fallen into the hands of unlicensed plunderers, A-chang scratched with his fingers on the dusty earth, marking everywhere within his reach the symbol which denotes to the initiated that a brother of the Hwuy is in deep distress. In the morning it would have been his duty to report himself, and if he failed to do so, the Kunsi would be sure to send for him. They might find his corpse, or they might find the hut empty. In any case, some member of the Tien-Ti would almost certainly read the scrawl.

Inchi Ch'en's face wore no smile as he asked, after a long investigation, "Will you give up our Tai-pe-kong?"

"Whose is it?"

"It belongs to devotees of piety and virtue, as I have told you.” "I have it no longer."

"You lie !" cried Ku-Juh-Sang, striking him with his foot.

"Reflect once more, my son ! Learn what power it is you defy! Those men around you are unworthy disciples of the Lotus Hwuy!"

"The Wu-Wei-Keäou!" murmured A-chang, aghast. A thousand legends of magic and devilry passed through his shuddering soul. Ch'en waited silently, but the stolid Chinese courage prevailed. "Take him away !"

All rose, and they left the hut. A-chang walked free, but his captors were close all round. When they reached the bazaar upon the river bank every house was dark. A-chang did not even think of crying out. The ways of Bau are mysterious, and no one in that poor quarter would interfere with Inchi Ch'en. He approached, however, on one side, as they passed the shops, his colleague on the other; each took an arm and laid the cold edge of a knife significantly across it.

As they stumbled along the narrow, broken colonnade, reeking with a thousand evil smells, a door opened suddenly, a man fell headlong into the midst; a door closed, all was dark again, The