Peter the Brazen: A Mystery Story of Modern China
Page 41
CHAPTER V
"Is this a part----" began Peter.
"No, it is not."
Romola's face seemed thin with her growing anxiety. Obviously thetossed knife was not a part of the evening's performance.
"A part of what?" Peggy was inquiring.
"Oh, another joke of the Mongolian smugglers," he explained.
There was a sudden and astounding explosion in the midst of them. Theflame of a revolver bathed the whole room in reddish-yellow for aninstant. Smoke was rising, the pungent, pale-blue, nitrous smoke ofso-called smokeless powder. Anthony Andover had arisen, had deliveredhis shot at the waving curtain.
Peter gave a grunt of disapproval. "Why did you do that----"
"Look!"
The candle directly above the curtains had flickered out; in fact, oncloser examination Peter discovered that the candle had been split incrude halves, one of the white fragments lying on the rug not far fromthe incense burner. This proved one point conclusively. AnthonyAndover had put real bullets, not blank cartridges, into the sixchambers of his revolver. He had reseated himself calmly beside Helen,who was staring at him with eyes like pools.
Peggy found her voice first. "Gracious! Why did you do that? It wasonly in fun--that dagger, I mean. Why, you might have killed somebody!"
Anthony shrugged his shoulders. "I'm not so sure about that."
"This is really a most dangerous spot," added the Princess Meng DaTlang in a mysterious voice. But she was looking at Peter withdeliberate meaning.
He accepted what he supposed was intended to be a cue, crossed to thefar side of the room, and approached the curtains prudently. He drewthe nearest one back inch by inch until the wall of the corridor wasgiven back to them blankly. So far it was quite empty.
Dropping his hand leisurely into his coat-pocket, he sauntered into thehall. As he dropped the curtains behind him, glancing swiftly up anddown the apparently deserted hallway, he heard the familiar sound againof a gently closed door.
The sound seemed to originate from the direction of the street. Helooked about for the old watchman, and he nearly stumbled over him inthe half-darkness as he approached.
Peter struck a match, and a gasp of horror came from his lips. The manwas dead--stabbed!
Was this killing a part of an elaborate plan? He would not havepermitted himself to walk with such apparent innocence into a snare ifhe had not relied upon the word of that band. His experience had beenthat their code was a peculiar one whose foundation was the word ofhonor. For the first time that evening he began to regret a little hisarrogance in defying the request of their messenger to report hisintentions immediately upon landing to the men in the place on Jen KeeRoad.
He dragged the body into the darkest corner, where he covered it with amat.
Laboring above his keen anxiety regarding the intention of the band wasan eagerness to keep away from the two girls the sense of death, ofdanger, which seemed to pervade this house.
A way would have to be found to break through the line outside; perhapsthey would be compelled to wait for daylight. Again sliding the boltwhich had been pushed back by the last trespasser, Peter slowly pacedthe length of the hall in the meditation of active and acute worry. Hewas still undecided when he pulled back the rug which cloaked theentrance into the large room.
The room was in total darkness!