Harold Macgrath

The Yellow Typhoon Harold Macgrath

A naval officer, trig in his white twill, strode along the Escolta, Manila's leadingthoroughfare. There was something in his stride that suggested anger; and the settledgrimness of his lips, visible between his mustache and short beard, and the hard brightnessof his blue eyes emphasized this suggestion. He was angry, but it was a cold anger, a kind ofclear-minded fury which often makes calculation terrible. He had been carrying this angerin his heart for six bitter years. It was something like glacial ice; it moved always, but neverseemed to lose either hardness or configuration. To-day it had the effect of the northwind-that almost forgotten north wind of his native land-in that it winnowed all thechaff from his mind and left one clear thought. He would settle the matter once and for alltime. The face and form of an angel, and the heart of a Messalina!He had known all along that some day she would turn up in Manila. It was impossible forthem to resist the temptation to view their handiwork. Tigers, they always return to thekill. But he had her now, had her in the hollow of his hand. All the fear of her was gone. Thisafternoon he would teach her what the word meant. Civilians were lucky. These sordidthings could pop up into their lives, even get into the papers, and shortly be forgotten. Butin the navy it was the knell of advancement. It never mattered if the wrong was wholly onthe other side; the result was the same. But he had her, thank God! The world would neverknow what had turned Bob Hallowell into a misanthrope. The tentacles of the octopus hadbeen lopped off, as by a miracle. He was a free man. Never would he forget the shame and misery, the horror of that night in the Grand Hotel inYokohama. The brazenness of that confession-on the first night of his honeymoon! He wasfree, yes, but he would never be able to blot out that infernal night. Well, he had her. Sheshould leave Manila on the first ship that left port; it did not matter whether it went northor east. If she proved obdurate, he would have her arrested. He would fight her tooth andnail. The world had changed since that night. The old order had gone to smash sinceAugust, 1914. Traditions had been badly mauled by necessities. Such a scandal, in which hehad been merely the dupe, would scarcely leave a ripple in passing.