Page:Weird Tales Volume 35 Number 09 (1941-05).djvu/47

 dead there would be no one to stand in the way of his pursuit of Kim. Yes, it might not be such a bad idea for Gat Neber to die. If there were no other way for him to possess Kim it must be done. Fortunate it was that he had given Feng Yen the knife. Not for a moment did he worry about his own future, nor did he pause to wonder if he, too, would be fed to a hungry knife. Kim was with him in that purple mist of solitude. Over and over his thoughts repeated themselves, like scribbled pleas in a prayer-wheel. His desire was at such a high pitch he completely overlooked the fact that Feng Yen had declared that he was resolved to snuff out the life of Gat Neber so that thereafter Kim could be with Gat always. Stepping into the country of the mist was like walking beyond the curtain of mortality. In this strange, lovely land he alone was mortal. But he gave this fact no heed. There was nothing to fear, nothing to dread. For only in life is there danger. Now there was nothing but music and soft lights. A great white bird flew gracefully by, Kim was in his arms. And there was nothing but beauty, fragrance and love, and a knife for Gat Neber that would strike swiftly and deep.

As the boat sped on "beauty hung around them like splendor round the moon."

ITH a start, Wedmore realized that Kim was weeping and there was perfume mingled with her tears. She turned her face to his, and the tears glistened like stardust. Almost without being aware of what he was doing, as though he were a puppet with no control over his motivation he drew her close and kissed her lips and it seemed as though time ceased. Her lips were warm and soft and clinging. It was as though he were standing on tiptoe on a mountaintop reaching for the stars. As she drew away, he murmured, "Are you sad?"

"No," she said, "happy. The air is so tremulous with beauty it stirs my emotions so I cannot help weeping. I love the silence."

"So do I, for in silence one may taste the genuine flavor of things."

Feng Yen approached. "We will soon be in Singapore," he said.

"But I thought the trip was an overnight journey on a fast steamer!" Wedmore exclaimed.

"Have I not told you that here time is without measure, and so we give it no regard?"

"I am sorry."

"Not I, for there is work to be done."

At Singapore, to Wedmore's disappointment, only he and Feng Yen disembarked.

"Kim will wait oh the boat," Feng Yen explained. "What happens may not be a pretty sight for women.

Despite the fog, Singapore as ever was a busy place, the crossroads of the world that never sleeps. A conglomerate of races bellowed and chanted a torrent of words that became distilled into a mighty symphony.

But Wedmore paid little attention to the wraithlike kaleidoscope that surged about them as they strode along. He was disturbed by a trivial matter that had happened in a world of wonder. Buitenzorg is an hour by train from Weltevreden. It is up in the hills, a cool elysium where the people of Java go to vacation from the sultry sea coast. Its Botanical Gardens are famed the world over, but it is not a port. Yet he and Feng Yen had strolled into Spice Lane, stopped for Kim, and then runners had carried them to the waterfront where they had taken the boat for Singapore. Had the coolies run all the way to Batavia? It seemed impossible, yet apparently they had done so. He made as though to question Feng Yen but caught himself in time.