Tales of Chinatown by Sax Rohmer (classic books for 12 year olds TXT) 📖

was barely civil to Adderley and even regarded myself with marked disfavour.

We were admitted by Adderley's man, whom I had not seen before, but who was some kind of foreigner, I think a Portuguese. It was characteristic of Adderley. No Englishman would ever serve him for long, and there had been more than one man in his old Company who had openly avowed his intention of dealing with Adderley on the first available occasion.

His chambers were ornately furnished; indeed, the room in which we sat more closely resembled a scene from an Oscar Asche production than a normal man's study. There was something unreal about it all. I have since thought that this unreality extended to the person of the man himself. Grossly material, he yet possessed an aura of mystery, mystery of an unsavoury sort. There was something furtive, secretive, about Adderley's entire mode of life.

I had never felt at ease in his company, and now as I sat staring wonderingly at the strange and costly ornaments with which the room was overladen I bethought me of the object of my visit. How I should have brought the conversation back to our Singapore days I know not, but a suitable opening was presently offered by Adderley himself.

“Do you ever see any of the old gang?” he inquired.

“I was in Singapore about six months ago,” I replied, “and I met some of them again.”

“What! Had they drifted back to the East after all?”

“Two or three of them were taking what Dr. Matheson described as a Busman's Holiday.”

At mention of Dr. Matheson's name Adderley visibly started.

“So you know Matheson,” he murmured. “I didn't know you had ever met him.”

Plainly to hide his confusion he stood up, and crossing the room drew my attention to a rather fine silver bowl of early Persian ware. He was displaying its peculiar virtues and showing a certain acquaintance with his subject when he was interrupted. A door opened suddenly and a girl came in. Adderley put down the bowl and turned rapidly as I rose from my seat.

It was the lady of Katong!

I recognized her at once, although she wore a very up-to-date gown. While it did not suit her dark good looks so well as the native dress which she had worn at Singapore, yet it could not conceal the fact that in a barbaric way she was a very beautiful woman. On finding a visitor in the room she became covered with confusion.

“Oh,” she said, speaking in Hindustani. “Why did you not tell me there was someone here?”

Adderley's reply was characteristically brutal.

“Get out,” he said. “You fool.”

I turned to go, for I was conscious of an intense desire to attack my host. But:

“Don't go, Knox, don't go!” he cried. “I am sorry, I am damned sorry, I———”

He paused, and looked at me in a queer sort of appealing way. The girl, her big eyes widely open, retreated again to the door, with curious lithe steps, characteristically Oriental. The door regained, she paused for a moment and extended one small hand in Adderley's direction.

“I hate you,” she said slowly, “hate you! Hate you!”

She went out, quietly closing the door behind her. Adderley turned to me with an embarrassed laugh.

“I know you think I am a brute and an outsider,” he said, “and perhaps I am. Everybody says I am, so I suppose there must be something in it. But if ever a man paid for his mistakes I have paid for mine, Knox. Good God, I haven't a friend in the world.”

“You probably don't deserve one,” I retorted.

“I know I don't, and that's the tragedy of it,” he replied. “You may not believe it, Knox; I don't expect anybody to believe me; but for more than a year I have been walking on the edge of Hell. Do you know where I have been since I saw you last?”

I shook my head in answer.

“I have been half round the world, Knox, trying to find peace.”

“You don't know where to look for it,” I said.

“If only you knew,” he whispered. “If only you knew,” and sank down upon the settee, ruffling his hair with his hands and looking the picture of haggard misery. Seeing that I was still set upon departure:

“Hold on a bit, Knox,” he implored. “Don't go yet. There is something I want to ask you, something very important.”

He crossed to a sideboard and mixed himself a stiff whisky-and-soda. He asked me to join him, but I refused.

“Won't you sit down again?”

I shook my head.

“You came to my place at Katong once,” he began abruptly. “I was damned drunk, I admit it. But something happened, do you remember?”

I nodded.

“This is what I want to ask you: Did you, or did you not, see that shadow?”

I stared him hard in the face.

“I remember the episode to which you refer,” I replied. “I certainly saw a shadow.”

“But what sort of shadow?”

“To me it seemed an indefinite, shapeless thing, as though caused by someone moving behind the curtain.”

“It didn't look to you like—the shadow of a hand?”

“It might have been, but I could not be positive.”

Adderley groaned.

“Knox,” he said, “money is a curse. It has been a curse to me. If I have had my fun, God knows I have paid for it.”

“Your idea of fun is probably a peculiar one,” I said dryly.

Let me confess that I was only suffering the man's society because of an intense curiosity which now possessed me on learning that the lady of Katong was still in Adderley's company.

Whether my repugnance for his society would have enabled me to remain any longer I cannot say. But as if Fate had deliberately planned that I should become a witness of the concluding phases of this secret drama, we were now interrupted a second time, and again in a dramatic fashion.

Adderley's nondescript valet came in with letters and a rather large brown paper parcel sealed and fastened with great care.

As the man went out:

“Surely that is from Singapore,” muttered Adderley, taking up the parcel.

He seemed to become temporarily oblivious of my presence, and his face grew even more haggard as he studied the writing upon