Lascelles said: “Good. Then you and I, von Brenner, get back to Peking. We’ll spend the night at that village of the too well informed headman—go back by the open road. But ride fast.”
He gave the horse his knee and raced away. The other two followed. The horse with the wide Chinese saddle placidly watched them go.
Two hours after dusk they came to the village. The headman was courteous, provided them with food and shelter, but no longer was communicative. Meredith was quiet. Before they rolled into their blankets he said to Lascelles: “When the priest grasped your hand you were about to say something—something about that birth-mark on the child’s breast. What was it?”
Lascelles said: “I was about to say that it was the Symbol of the fox women.”
Meredith said: “Don’t tell me you believe in that damned nonsense!”
Lascelles answered: “I’m not telling you anything, except that the mark was the symbol of the fox women.”
Von Brenner said: “I’fe seen some strange things in this damned China and elsewhere, Pierre. But neffer an arrow that pierced a man’s wrist and hung there quivering—and then was gone. But the wrist dead—as mine wass.”
Lascelles said: “Listen, Franz. This priest is a great man. What he did to us I have seen sorcerers, so-called, do to others in Tibet and in India. But never with such completeness, such clarity. The archers came from the mind of the priest into our minds—yes, that I know. But I tell you, Franz, that if you had believed that arrow had pierced your heart—your heart would not be alive as your wrist is! I tell you again—he is a great man, that priest.”
Meredith said: “But—”
Lascelles said: “For Christ’s sake, man, is it impossible for you to learn!” He rolled himself in his blankets. Went to sleep.
Meredith lay awake, thinking, for long. He thought;
Yu Ch’ien doesn’t know a damned thing. If he did—why would he promise me the child? He knows he can’t prove a thing. He thought: He thinks he can frighten me so that when the child comes of age she’ll get what’s coming to her. And he thought: Lascelles is as crazy as Li-kong. Those archers were hidden there all the time. They were real, all right. Or, if it was a matter of hypnotism, I’d like to see myself believe in them in New York! He laughed.
It was a damned good arrangement, he concluded. Probably the priest wouldn’t send the brat back to him for ten years. But in the meantime—well, he’d like to see that file of archers in one of the Bronx night clubs! It was a good arrangement—for him. The priest was as senile as Martin.…
He was well satisfied. He went to sleep.
The A. Merritt Megapack Page 215