The Pagan Madonna

by Harold MacGrath

  CHAPTER VII

  Jane had gone to meet his father. How to secrete this note without beingobserved by either the manager or the Chinaman? An accident came to hisaid. Someone in the corridor banged a door violently, and as the manager'shead and Ling Foo's jerked about, Dennison stuffed the note into apocket.

  A trap! Dennison wasn't alarmed--he was only furious. Jane had walked intoa trap. She had worn those accursed beads when his father had approachedher by the bookstall that afternoon. The note had attacked her curiosityfrom a perfectly normal angle. Dennison had absorbed enough of the note'scontents to understand how readily Jane had walked into the trap.

  Very well. He would wait in the lobby until one; then if Jane had notreturned he would lay the plans of a counter-attack, and it would be arough one. Of course no bodily harm would befall Jane, but she wouldprobably be harried and bullied out of those beads. But would she? It wasnot unlikely that she would become a pretty handful, once she learned shehad been tricked. If she balked him, how would the father act? The oldboy was ruthless when he particularly wanted something.

  If anything should happen to her--an event unlooked for, accidental, overwhich his father would have no control--this note would bring the old boyinto a peck of trouble; and Dennison was loyal enough not to wish this tohappen. And yet it would be only just to make the father pay once for hishigh-handedness. That would be droll--to see his father in the dock,himself as a witness against him! Here was the germ of a tiptop drama.

  But all this worry was doubtless being wasted upon mere supposition. Janemight turn over the beads without bargaining, provided the father had anylegal right to them, which Dennison strongly doubted.

  He approached Ling Foo and seized him roughly by the arm.

  "What do you know about these glass beads?"

  Ling Foo elevated a shoulder and let it fall.

  "Nothing, except that the man who owns them demands that I recover them."

  "And who is this man?"

  "I don't know his name."

  "That won't pass. You tell me who he is or I'll turn you over to thepolice."

  "I am an honest man," replied Ling Foo with dignity. He appealed to themanager.

  "I have known Ling Foo a long time, sir. He is perfectly honest."

  Ling Foo nodded. He knew that this recommendation, honest as it was, wouldhave weight with the American.

  "But you have some appointment with this man. Where is that to be? Idemand to know that."

  Ling Foo saw his jade vanish along with his rainbow gold. His earlysuppositions had been correct.

  Those were devil beads, and evil befell any who touched them.

  Silently he cursed the soldier's ancestors half a thousand years back. Ifthe white fool hadn't meddled in the parlour that afternoon!

  "Come with me," he said, finally.

  The game was played out; the counters had gone back to the basket. He hadno desire to come into contact with police officials. Only it was asbitter as the gall of chicken, and he purposed to lessen his owndiscomfort by making the lame man share it. Oriental humour.

  Dennison and the hotel manager followed him curiously. At the end of thecorridor Ling Foo stopped and knocked on a door. It was openedimmediately.

  "Ah! Oh!"

  The inflections touched Dennison's sense of humour, and he smiled. Agreeting with a snap-back of dismay.

  "I'm not surprised," he said. "I had a suspicion I'd find you in thissomewhere."

  "Find me in what?" asked Cunningham, his poise recovered. He, too, beganto smile. "Won't you come in?"

  "What about these glass beads?"

  "Glass beads? Oh, yes. But why?"

  "I fancy you'd better come out into the clear, Cunningham," said Dennison,grimly.

  "You wish to know about those beads? Very well, I'll explain, becausesomething has happened--I know not what. You all look so infernallyserious. Those beads are a key to a code. The British Government is keenlyanxious to recover this key. In the hands of certain Hindus those beadswould constitute bad medicine."

  Ling Foo spread his hands relievedly.

  "That is the story. I was to receive five hundred gold for theirrecovery."

  "A code key," said Dennison, musing.

  He knew Cunningham was lying. Anthony Cleigh wasn't the man to run acrosshalf the world for a British code key. On the other hand, perhaps it wouldbe wise to let the hotel manager and the Chinaman continue in the beliefthat the affair concerned a British code.

  "If I did not know you tolerably well----"

  "My dear captain, you don't know me at all," interrupted Cunningham. "Haveyou got the beads?"

  "I have not. I doubt if you will ever lay eyes on them again."

  Something flashed across the handsome face. Ling Foo alone recognized it.He had glimpsed it, this expression, outside his window the night before.He recalled the dark stain on the floor of his shop, and he alsorecollected a saying of Confucius relative to greed. He wished he was backin his shop, well out of this muddle. The jade could go, valuable as itwas. With his hands tucked in his sleeves he waited.

  Dennison turned upon the manager. He wanted to be alone with Cunningham.

  "Go down and make inquiries, and take this Chinaman with you. I'll be withyou shortly." As soon as the two were out of the way Dennison said:"Cunningham, the lady who wore those beads at dinner to-night has gone outalone, wearing them. If I find that you are anywhere back of thisventure--if she does not return shortly--I will break you as I would achurchwarden pipe."

  Cunningham appeared genuinely taken aback.

  "She went out alone?"

  "Yes."

  "Have you notified the police?"

  "Not yet. I'm giving her until one; then I shall start something."

  "Something tells me," said Cunningham, easily, "that Miss Norman is in nodanger. But she would never have gone out if I had been in the lobby. Ifshe has not returned by one call me. Any assistance I can give will begiven gladly. Women ought never to be mixed up in affairs such as thisone, on this side of the world. Tell your father that he ought to know bythis time that he is no match for me."

  "What do you mean by that?"

  "Innocent! You know very well what I mean. If you hadn't a suspicion ofwhat has happened you would be roaring up and down the corridors with thepolice. You run true to the breed. It's a good one, I'll admit. But yourfather will regret this night's work."

  "Perhaps. Here, read this."

  Dennison extended the note. Cunningham, his brows bent, ran through themissive.

  MISS NORMAN: Will you do me the honour to meet me at the bridgehead at half-past nine--practically at once? My son and I are not on friendly terms. Still, I am his father, and I'd like to hear what he has been doing over here. I will have a limousine, and we can ride out on the Bubbling Well Road while we talk.

  ANTHONY CLEIGH.

  "Didn't know," said Cunningham, returning the note, "that you two were atodds. But this is a devil of a mix-up, if it's what I think."

  "What do you think?"

  "That he's abducted her--carried her off to the yacht."

  "He's no fool," was the son's defense.

  "He isn't, eh? Lord love you, sonny, your father and I are the two biggestfools on all God's earth!"

  The door closed sharply in Dennison's face and the key rasped in thelock.

  For a space Dennison did not stir. Why should he wish to protect hisfather? Between his father and this handsome rogue there was small choice.The old boy made such rogues possible. But supposing Cleigh had wishedreally to quiz Jane? To find out something about these seven years, leanand hard, with stretches of idleness and stretches of furious labour,loneliness? Well, the father would learn that in all these seven years theson had never faltered from the high level he had set for his conduct.That was a stout staff to lean on--he had the right to look all mensquarely in the eye.

  He had been educated to inherit millions; he had not been educ
ated tosupport himself by work in a world that specialized. He had in these sevenyears been a jeweller's clerk, an auctioneer in a salesroom; he hadtravelled from Baluchistan to Damascus with carpet caravans, but he hadnever forged ahead financially. Generally the end of a job had been theend of his resources. One fact the thought of which never failed to buckhim up--he had never traded on his father's name.

  Then had come the war. He had returned to America, trained, and they hadassigned him to Russia. But that had not been without its reward--he hadmet Jane.

  In a New York bank, to his credit, was the sum of twenty thousand dollars,at compound interest for seven years, ready to answer to the scratch of apen, but he had sworn he would never touch a dollar of it. Never beforehad the thought of it risen so strongly to tempt him. His for the merescratch of a pen!

  In the lobby he found the manager pacing nervously, while Ling Foo satpatiently and inscrutably.

  "Why do you wait?" inquired Dennison, irritably.

  "The lady has some jade of mine," returned Ling Foo, placidly. "It was agrave mistake."

  "What was?"

  "That you interfered this afternoon. The lady would be in her room at thishour. The devil beads would not be casting a spell on us."

  "Devil beads, eh?"

  Ling Foo shrugged and ran his hands into his sleeves. Somewhere along thebanks of the Whangpoo or the Yang-tse would be the body of an unknown, butLing Foo's lips were locked quite as securely as the dead man's. Devilbeads they were.

  "When did the man upstairs leave the beads with you?"

  "Last night."

  "For what reason?"

  "He will tell you. It is none of my affair now." And that was all Dennisoncould dig out of Ling Foo.

  Jane Norman did not return at one o'clock; in fact, she never returned tothe Astor House. Dennison waited until three; then he went back to thePalace, and Ling Foo to his shop and oblivion.

  Dennison decided that he did not want the police in the affair. In thatevent there would be a lot of publicity, followed by the kind of talk thatstuck. He was confident that he could handle the affair alone. So heinvented a white lie, and nobody questioned it because of his uniform.Miss Norman had found friends, and shortly she would send for her effects;but until that time she desired the consulate to take charge. Under theeyes of the relieved hotel manager and an indifferent clerk from theconsulate the following morning Dennison packed Jane's belongings andconveyed them to the consulate, which was hard by. Next he proceeded tothe water front and engaged a motor boat. At eleven o'clock he drew upalongside the _Wanderer II_.

  "Hey, there!" shouted a seaman. "Sheer off! Orders to receive novisitors!"

  Dennison began to mount, ignoring the order. It was a confusing situationfor the sailor. If he threw this officer into the yellow water--ascertainly he would have thrown a civilian--Uncle Sam might jump on hisback and ride him to clink. Against this was the old man, the very devilfor obedience to his orders. If he pushed this lad over, the clink; if helet him by, the old man's foot. And while the worried seaman was reachingfor water with one hand and wind with the other, as the saying goes,Dennison thrust him roughly aside, crossed the deck to the maincompanionway, and thundered down into the salon.