Vietnam or Thailand ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Updated: April 30, 2025
The door was opened by a Chinaman wearing national dress, revealing a small, square lobby, warmly lighted and furnished Orientally. Kerry stepped in briskly. "I want to see Mr. Zani Chada. Tell him I am here. Chief Inspector Kerry is my name."
Came a clatter of hurrying feet, and into the low, perfumed room burst Dan Kerry, junior, tightly clasping the hand of a pale-faced, dishevelled woman in evening dress. It was Lady Rourke; and although she seemed to be in a nearly fainting condition, Dan dragged her, half running, into the room. Kerry gave one glance at the pair, then, instantly, he turned to face Zani Chada.
The taller of her escorts, while continuing to support her, solicitously wrapped her fur cloak about her bare shoulders; the other, the manager of the club, stepped forward and opened the door of the car. "Lady Rourke!" whispered Durham. "With Lou Chada!" rapped Kerry. "Run for a cab. Brisk. Don't waste a second."
Arms there were in the room, and rich carpets, carven furniture, and an air of luxury peculiarly exotic. Furthermore, he detected a faint smell of opium from which fact he divined that Zani Chada was addicted to the national vice of China. Seated before a long narrow table was the notorious Eurasian. The table contained a number of strange and unfamiliar objects, as well as a small rack of books.
How dare you!" "Ah!" The long, dark eyes regarded her unmovingly. "But who are you?" "I am Lady Rourke. Open the door. You shall bitterly regret this outrage." "You are Lady Rourke?" the man repeated. "Before you speak of regrets, answer the question which I have asked: Who brought you here?" "Lou Chada." "Ah!"
The atmosphere was laden with a strange perfume. But, above all, this room was silent, most oppressively silent. Lady Pat started to her feet. The whole perfumed place seemed to be swimming around her. Reclosing her eyes, she fought down her weakness. The truth, the truth respecting Lou Chada and herself, had uprisen starkly before her.
Zani Chada stirred not a muscle, but: "To-night," he said, "your mad passion has brought ruin to both of us. For the sake of a golden doll who is not worth the price of the jewels she wears, you have placed yourself within reach of the hangman." "I was mad, I was mad," groaned the other. "But I, who was sane, am involved in the consequences," retorted his father.
And the pleasure-seeking Lady Rourke, with her hair of spun gold and her provoking smile, found Lou Chada dangerously fascinating; almost she was infatuated she who had known so much admiration. Of those joys for which thousands of her plainer sisters yearn and starve to the end of their days she had experienced a surfeit. Always she sought for novelty, for new adventures.
With a thrill of real, sickly terror he realized that he was in the hands of Chinamen! Perhaps telepathically this spasm of fear was conveyed to his father, for it was at about this time that the latter was interviewing Zani Chada, and at about this time that Kerry recognized, underlying the other's words, at once an ill-concealed suspense and a threat.
Came a disturbance and the sound of voices, and Lou Chada, his son, stood at the doorway. He still wore his evening clothes, but he no longer looked smart. His glossy black hair was dishevelled, and his handsome, olive face bore a hunted look. Panic was betoken by twitching mouth and fear-bright eyes. He stopped, glaring at his father, and: "Why are you not gone?" asked the latter sternly.
Word Of The Day
Others Looking