spices. There were five or six silk-covered divans, and exquisite carpets of Chinese workmanship covered the ground. At the end of the room was a curtained recess. From behind these curtains came a voice.
“You have brought our honoured guest?”
“Excellency, he is here,” replied my guide.
“Let our guest enter,” was the answer.
At the same moment, the curtains were drawn aside by an unseen hand, and I was facing an immense cushioned divan on which sat a tall thin Oriental dressed in wonderfully embroidered robes, and clearly, by the length of his fingernails, a great man.
“Be seated, I pray you. Captain Hastings,” he said, with a wave of his hand. “You acceded to my request to come immediately, I am glad to see.”
“Who are you?” I asked. “Li Chang Yen?”
“Indeed no, I am but the humblest of the master’s servants. I carry out his behests, that is all—as do other of his servants in other countries—in South America, for instance.”
I advanced a step.
“Where is she? What have you done with her out there?”
“She is in a place of safety—where none will find her. As yet, she is unharmed. You observe that I say— as yet !”
Cold shivers ran down my spine as I confronted this smiling devil.
“What do you want?” I cried. “Money?”