Adventure Magazine Cover — page 14: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

4 Adventure calling to comfer with the king of the Chinese shipping business on matters in- volving millions of dollars, would be turned away by the two Chinese who always guarded the entrance. On the other hand, unshaven men in pea-jackets, who smelt of whisky and furtively polished their boots on the fringes of brocaded curtains, would be admitted and kept for hours. It was this whimsicality that was mak- ing me enter the sanctum loaded for bear. Of all the hours I had spent in the old devil’s music-room, he had selected for the issuance of his invitation the exact second when I was kneeling before Alison and try- ing to gain possession of her hand. The Chink must have seen the whole business as he glided into the circle of light from the floor-lamp and said— “Mistel Campbell like see Mistel Carter in library.” It was just as I was writhing at the thought of it, that the messenger appeared in the anteroom and said it again. And I rose with the rapidity of some one who has something good and unpleasant on the tip of his tongue, and followed him into the inner room. I ‘can give no better description of that library than the statement that the mere sight of it killed my resentment instanta- neously, and turned me from an angry man into an awed one, stripped of all emotions save a curiosity as to what the lord of such a place could want with such an insignifi- cant mortal as myself. Usually, places we have visited as children seem smaller when we revisit them as grown-ups; but this room was more impressive to me at twenty-six than it had been at eighteen; and as a child I can simply have had no idea of it at all. Never before had I noticed the line of gold-encrusted war-masks that hung like a frieze around the vast room, seeming to grin in the strange light from the single table-lamp behind which I could dimly see the form of old Campbell. Now for the first time I noticed that on each side of the door stood the stone statue of a Chinese king—statues looted, I have since learned, from the ruins of the sacred palace of Ken- Lung, and the walls, as far as I could see in the dim light, were covered with some kind of heavy silk "‘brocaded in gold. In short, the effect of that room was the essence of the effect of China itself—of a civilization three thousand years old, wait- ing carelessly for the homage of us savages from the West. It was in a sort of daze that I walked the fifteen yards over ankle-deep carpet to the table at which old Campbell was sitting, apparently just as I had last seen him; a Chinese behind his chair; his own face, yellow as parchment, tight- skinned as a mummy’s, set with burning black eyes, one glance from which brought me back to my senses like a stab from a dagger. I sat down, and, staring under the shade of the lamp—which seemed specially de- signed to throw the minimum of light around—tried to make out who was sitting at the end of the table to my right. I could dimly make out that he had a full beard, and that he was a man of powerful build— that much was evidenced by the hand he was resting on the table; a great hairy paw with an anchor, tattooed in red and blue, on its back. “Mr. Carter,” said old Campbell sud- denly, “Captain McAndrew.” We shook hands. As if this was what he’d been waiting for, the big man arose. “You know your instructions, captain?” asked Campbell. “T ought to,” said the big man. “But do you?” snapped Campbell. “Yes,” said the giant, “‘yes, sir.” “Then that’ll do.” Campbell leaned forward suddenly, tap- ping the table with an ivory paper-knife. ‘And you remember the chief instruc- tion of alle’ he asked. ‘Silence! One word, and vou fail. Two words, and you fail and get your throat cut. Do you un- derstand that? I’m protecting you all I can, but be careful. That’s all.” wie =WITHOUT waiting for the cap- =z tain to lumber out of ear-shot, Campbell leaned forward until I could see him comparatively clearly, and addressed me. “That goes for you, too,” he said, fling- ing down the paper-knife and interlacing his long, withered fingers. “It’s very nice of you to say so,” I told him, a little of my spirit coming back under the sting of his dictatorial manner and the entire absence of any attempt at a greeting. “Don’t mock me, child!’ snapped the old man. “I’ve not brought you here to chat- ter compliments even if you deserved them GOMIGoOO S (©