Adventure, June 1911 — page 176: what you’re looking at

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

SUDDENLY a door at my left was opened and I observed two dark and forbidding-looking Chinamen enter, carrying between them a limp and apparently lifeless figure, which they placed upon the bench beside me. The figure was not blindfolded as I had been, and I re- coiled, sick and trembling. It was Ser- geant McQuade! The Chinamen paid no attention to me, and quietly withdrew. I placed my hand upon the detective’s heart, and was over- joyed to find that it still beat. In a few moments I saw his eyes slowly open and he clutched feebly at his throat. I followed his movements and found a heavy cord about his neck, so tightly drawn as almost to prevent his breathing. This I quickly removed and in a few moments he was able to speak. His first words, after a glance of intense surprise at our surroundings, were to ask me why I had sent for him. I told him I had not done so. ‘““But you asked me to come to this address at once—that you had important news. I have two men outside, but these devils got me before I could blow my whis- tle. Not much use to try it now!” he ob- served, looking about grimly. “T sent you no note,” I replied. “On the contrary, I got one from you. That is why I am here.” ‘We are both nicely trapped, it seems!”’ he growled. “‘What have you learned— anything?” “Nothing. They took my bunch of keys and left me here.”’ ‘Your keys!” he muttered, softly. ‘‘ Your keys. What could they have wanted with them?” He seemed lost in thought. Further conversation was interrupted by the sudden opening of the door on our left. Some score or more of Chinamen crowded in and were at once joined by the figure of the priest, who rose to his feet and ad- vanced toward the center of the room. He was a terrible looking old man, his face drawn and leathery, his eyes like burning coals, his mouth cruel and thin-lipped. All the others seemed to pay him deep respect. One of their number advanced and handed him a large object, which he eagerly grasped. It was my Gladstone bag. McQuade and I glanced at each other in sudden compre- hension. The old priest placed the bag upon the floor and proceeded to ransack it with Adventure eager, trembling hands. The others crowded about, every face tense and full of expectation. Presently his eye fell upon the small green cake of soap which I had thrown loosely into the bag upon my de- parture from The Oaks. He seized it with a cry of triumph and, taking a knife from his girdle, proceeded with extreme care to cut the cake of soap in two. The crowding figures about him hung upon his move- ments with intense anxiety. The room was as silent as death. Suddenly, with a loud cry, the priest broke the cake of soap in two, and there, within it, in a cavity about two inches long, lay the lost Emerald Budd- ha, its wonderful color flashing and glowing - in the light from the lantern above! I was absolutely dumb with amazement. Undeniably there before me lay the cause of Mr. Ashton’s death, yet how it came to be in that cake of soap, and what light its presence there threw upon the manner of his sudden and tragic end, was beyond my comprehension. picion to point in my direction did not for the moment occur to me. THE kneeling priest rose to his feet with a glad cry and, holding ic’ the image reverently in the hollow of his two hands, advanced toward the altar, the others crowding closely about him. Arrived at the shrine, he placed the figure carefully upon its pedestal within the golden casket, and as the light of many candles fell full upon it, the whole crowd knelt down and began a weird, sing-song prayer that must have been a chant of joy, or some service of purification, now that their long lost deity had been returned to them. Presently the strange sounds died. away, and the various Chinamen placed offerings of fruit, flowers and food upon the altar. The priest rose, and faced us. I had a feeling that our turn was now to come. The tall, gaunt figure came close to us and examined both our faces minutely. I fancy he was the same priest that Ashton had all but done for in Ping Yang and, from his look of intense hatred and ferocity, I feel sure that had he recognized McQuade or myself as either his assailant or Major Temple, our moments in this life would have been num- bered. In answer apparently to the ques- tions of his followers he shook his head vigorously. Then ensued a heated altercation be- cComicbooks That it might cause sus- (©