Page:Weird Tales Volume 36 Number 08 (1942-11).djvu/93

 dusk were at his heels. It was the only time to my knowledge he had ever been frightened of anything. When he returned to our hotel he was a pitiable, craven thing."

Francis Channing paused for a moment and licked his dry lips. When he spoke again his voice was almost inaudible. "A few hours later we left Peiping never to return, banished by fear, fear of the retribution Chan Kien would exact from us if we remained in China, for Pete Larkin had intruded upon a romance so beautiful it might have inspired T'ang poets. We returned to New York. Several years passed and we had begun to breathe easier. Then Chan Kien suddenly appeared in New York. He had been in town about three months. I am sure that Peter Larkin collided with him many times. I am sure that Chan Kien committed the murder."

Y APPOINTMENT that evening, Kerle Andrews called at the house on upper Fifth Avenue which Chan Kien had rented temporarily during his sojourn in America. Of all people, the Chinese are the most courteous; therefore when Kerle Andrews telephoned Chan Kien, he had been at once invited to share a cup of pearl-orchid-scented tea with him. As Kerle Andrews stood on the doorstep and rang the bell, immediately, as if by magic, Shung Kung appeared in the doorway, bowing graciously. Shunk Kung was Chan Kien's personal servant, constant companion, and friend.

"My master is awaiting you," he said.

Through a dimly lighted hall he led the way. Kerle Andrews was astonished and enthralled at the wealth of porcelains, tapestries and carved jade ornaments that made the hall lush with subdued color and warmth. On the air floated fragrance like unto sandalwood. The next moment they had entered the library and Chan Kien came forward to greet his guest.

"Welcome," said he graciously. "In this world we are all travelers and I am gratified that you chose to stop for a moment at my house. It is thereby honored."

As he spoke, he motioned Kerle Andrews to a chair in the shadows while he himself seated himself by an ebony table on which a lamp was lighted. "So that you may study my expression with less difficulty," he smiled. "But even though the rays of the lamp fall flush upon my face, a proverb of my people comes to mind, 'A candle as big as a cup cannot illuminate tomorrow.' Ask me whatever question you wish but I assure you I will keep my broken arm inside my sleeve."

He clapped his hands together and Shung Kung brought tea. The fragile cups were no thicker than flower petals. As Shung Kung poured the tea, Chan Kien said, "Let us drink, tea makes all men brothers."

As Kerle Andrews lifted a cup to his lips, he surveyed his host.

Chan Kien had exceptionally good features. His nose was well formed, his mouth was firm though somewhat cruel. He smiled too much. His eyes were keen, black, brilliant as new steel. They told nothing except that the mind they mirrored was indomitable. Channing had pointed out that in his own country Chan Kien was, among other things, a magistrate who dispensed justice at a city on the fringe of the Gobi Desert with the relentlessness of an absolute monarch. In that small city his word was law. In high circles he was all powerful. Besides there was a mysterious hidden side to his life. Few knew anything about this, and those who did spoke of it only in whispers to people whom they could trust.

Chan Kien was a student of character. Kerle Andrews interested him. He liked rapier-like minds that he could challenge