. . .
White pieced together his conception of the circles of disturbance
that spread out from Benham's pursuit of Prothero's flying
messenger.
For weeks and months the great town had been uneasy in all its ways
because of the insurgent spirits from the south and the disorder
from the north, because of endless rumours and incessant intrigue.
The stupid manoeuvres of one European "power" against another, the
tactlessness of missionaries, the growing Chinese disposition to
meet violence and force with violence and force, had fermented and
brewed the possibility of an outbreak. The sudden resolve of Benham
to get at once to Prothero was like the firing of a mine. This
tall, pale-faced, incomprehensible stranger charging through the
narrow streets that led to the pleasure-boats in the south river
seemed to many a blue-clad citizen like the White Peril embodied.
Behind him came the attendants of the rich man up the hill; but they
surely were traitors to help this stranger.
Before Benham could at all realize what was happening he found his
way to the river-boat on which he supposed Prothero to be detained,
barred by a vigorous street fight.
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