Adventure Magazine Cover — page 164: what you’re looking at

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

150 will insure the safety of Miss Helen. If you haven’t got it back by then you are going to be a very unhappy man for the rest of your life. You are not my employer in this matter; you couldn’t hire me with your money to go back. Iam going on my own account. You can pay me what you do owe me, however, as I shall need imme- diate cash.”’ Remsden detached certain travellers’ checks from their sheaf and passed them over to McNeill. “Tt is no use threatening me,” he said. “*T will get it as soon as I can—not later than forty-eight hours. That gives us a margin of three days. They will not injure her.” “What is this relic?’ demanded the younger man. Remsden’s eyes glowed. He seemed to recover his self-assurance. The man was a trifle mad, with the frenzy of a collector, McNeill decided, as Remsden poured him- self some whisky and tossed it down witha hand not yet steady. “What do you know about Chinese mythology, Neill?’’ he asked. “Not very much.” McNeill resented the smug manner of Remsden’s speech but he was anxious to learn what he could about the relic. “Ah! Perhaps you know that they be- lieve that originally the land was ruled by the dragon kings, lords of air, land and sea?” McNeill nodded. “Well, in the holy shrine of Hoang Lung is supposed to be kept an actual claw of the last of the dragon kings—a claw set in gray jade carved to represent the sheath of the claw and also inscribed with runes that even the great Lao T’se could not interpret. This claw is probably that of a great cave-bear; it is of non-retractile type. It is evidently very old. It might even have come from some monster of prehistoric times. The point is that it is believed indubitably to be the claw of the dragon, and the temple of the Hoang Lung is wor- shiped as its repository.”’ “And you got it? How?” Remsden almost beamed with self-satis- ~faction. | “T got up the expedition to the temple. I am not a Mason but I have knowledge of the ancient universal rituals and symbols from which modern Masonry has borrowed. They have been long known to the older _ Adventure dynasties of ancient nations, China in- cluded. Through their use I was received by the priests, as you know, and observed their ritual, something but one other white man has ever done. I noted that the claw was not a myth. Fung-Ti did the rest for a very large sum of money that was packed in the box carried by the smaller camel, the box you, with all the rest, thought carried cartridges.” “I thought some one had stolen that,” said McNeill under his breath. “Just how Fung-Ti accomplished the theft I do not know. I left the particulars to him. He has been frightfully punished, but he knew his risk. Under ordinary circumstances nothing would have been discovered for a full month, by which time Fung Ti would have been far away, had it not been for that shower of shooting stars the night after we left the temple. The priests of Hoang Lung imagine such phe- nomena the golden scales shaken from the dragon gods in anger, and I suppose they investigated. It was an unfortunate coin- cidence. “The claw was without doubt the most wonderful curio in the world. It would have brought me fortune. I preferred fame. Now [I have lost both,” he sighed. McNeill regarded him keenly. The sigh hardly seemed genuine, but he was deter- mined that Remsden should not leave his sight until the relic reappeared from wher- ever it had been deposited. That Remsden should have let it leave him for a moment seemed incredible, but he was certain that in that matter the collector had not lied. For the rest he was an incipient lunatic so far as curios were concerned. “I want you to go out with me for a while,” said McNeill. ‘‘And I shall take the connecting room to this suite.” ‘“‘Where are we going?” “To pass the word to certain men that I know,” said McNeill. “I am going on this return trip with an escort of he-men, Mr. Remsden. I take it you would prefer to stay in Peking. I should recommend the . embassy after we have gone, if they will shelter you. Come on!” His tone was that of sheriff to his prisoner. For a half moment Remsden rebelled. “Very well,” he said at last. ‘‘Any more funds that are necessary?” “Tf I run short I'll borrow some from you,” snapped McNeill. ‘‘Come on!” GEomicbooks.co