,_page_header.png)
“ ‘I see you’ve got dry things,’ my father went on. ‘Hung’s clothes suit you all right—eh? Again the Chinaman bowed. ‘Well—listen to me,’ said my father. ‘I have called you Chang See for the last time. From now on you are Hung Chin-chung, the same servant I took with me when I left the Gate.’
“ ‘I understand,’ said Hung—I may as well call him that, for I have never known him by any other name. He spoke good English, even then. ‘You have saved my worthless life,’ he went on, and drifted off into a flowery sentence intended as an expression of gratitude. My father cut him short.
“ ‘Yes,’ he said, ‘I’ve saved your life. And I expect something in return.’ Of course he did. I was only twelve, but I knew he would, even then.
“ ‘Anything you ask———’ began the Chinaman.
“ ‘I want a confidential servant—one I can trust—absolutely,’ my father told
