Adventure Magazine Cover — page 177: what you’re looking at

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

The Dragon’s Claw she asked, and her voice quivered with anxiety. “Father is dreadfully upset and wants to see you as soon as possible.”’ “Tm starting now,” McNeill answered. “Wants to make me his burden-bearer once more, I suppose,” McNeill told him- self as he hastily finished his dressing. “Well, I'm not going without breakfast for his sake.”’ CHAPTER VII THE GLOVE OF VELVET a EING had surely happened to Howard Remsden. Gone was his attempt at patronizing McNeill, gone was his smug assurance. The man seemed to have shrunk like a balloon from which enough gas has escaped to make the outline flabby. His florid complexion was blotched and there were sagging pouches under his eyes, which themselves held a constant appeal. Something had evidently fright- ened Remsden badly and he clung to McNeill’s hand as would a despairing swimmer to the rescuer. McNeill was not particularly sorry for him and he did not pretend to be. It was the request of Helen Remsden and the look in her eyes that proclaimed him her cham- pion, that made him more than barely civil to her stepfather. Moreover, whatever peril faced him included her. For his own, he was not bothering just then. “T want you to read this first, Neill,” said Remsden. ‘I am not good at Chinese script, as you know; then [ll tell you everything. They are after the claw!” He lowered his voice as a servant entered the library where they were closeted, a magnificent room of carved paneling, carved furniture and gorgeous Oriental hangings and rugs. “The men have come about putting up the bars, sir,” said the servant, the same man who had refused McNeill permission to see Miss Remsden the day before. Neill held nothing against him for obeying orders—a flunkey must lie when his master tells him, he supposed—and today there was a deference in the man’s manner toward the visitor that showed that he was universally regarded in the Remsden household as the man of the hour. “Tell ’em to begin with my bedroom and Miss Remsden’s, Jackson,” said Remsden. 163 “T’m having the windows all barred,” he said. ‘The house is otherwise protected but, one never knows.”’ The hands of the collector and new president of the Philological Museum were visibly trembling. His cocksureness had evaporated but McNeill could not resist getting in one dig. “Even in America?” he asked. Remsden reddened. “Even in America,” he admitted. ‘“There are subtle forces at work, McNeill. I feel them. Those two princes ss He shuddered and passed the scroll of ricepaper that had been fluttering in his nervous hands across to McNeill. “T found this pinned to my coverlet this morning,” he said. “Pinned by this.” He took from a drawer of the massive desk at which he was sitting a pin of soft gold, exquisitely carved in the shape of a dragon. “The imperial dragon,” he said. ‘‘Six- clawed! How could it have come there, McNeill? My servants might have been bribed, but they could not lie to me success- fully, and the door to my room was locked and bolted. I had locked the shutters of my windows on the outside. I had searched my room before I went to bed. I have been all nerves lately—since yesterday. But there it was.” He went with dragging heels to a side- board and helped himself to brandy and soda, offering some to McNeill, who, study- ing the scroll, refused with a shake of his head. “Want me to read it aloud?” he asked Remsden. “Ves.” : The hesitation in his voice was like that of a prisoner about to hear a death warrant. McNeill studied over the hieroglyphs once more. “This is a fairly exact translation,” he premised. ‘““Time holds the eternal balances, But man may weight the scales. A maid and a flower—both are beautiful. ° Yet, when the wind blows from the East, Lo, they perish as straws in the furnace!”’ “The wind—from the China!’ groaned Remsden. that means Helen!” There was a real note of anguish in his voice that surprized McNeill. He had not thought that Remsden was capable of such genuine affection for the girl. He East—from “The maid, GEomicbooks €O