Harry gestured for silence. He looked toward Shan Kwan and saw the mandarin gaze reprovingly at Cliff, who subsided promptly. Harry was pleased that he was to continue as spokesman. He finished his goblet and waited for another question.
“What concerns me,” explained the mandarin, “is the safety of the Fate Joss. I am of old China; I grieve that the Joss should have been removed from its temple. I seek to return it thither. That is why I ask these questions.
“Tell me: suppose you should gain the Fate Joss; either you or the one whom you serve. What would you wish to do with it? Would you seek to return it to the land where it belongs?”
Harry smiled as he pondered on the question. Cliff acted as though about to speak; then paused and took another long sip from his goblet. A servant approached with a silver bottle and filled Harry’s empty cup with a gurgling, foamy liquid. Harry toyed with the goblet; then answered:
“I believe so. Yes, I think I would want the Fate Joss to go back to China. Suppose, Shan Kwan, that we depart. By tonight, we shall communicate with you again. Then, perhaps, we may know how much we can tell you.”
Shan Kwan bowed. He waved his hand; the music ceased. The silence seemed to carry a depressing effect; one realized the haunting power of the melody more fully when it had finished. Shan Kwan raised his goblet to the guests. Harry and Cliff did the same. All drank.
Harry noticed a new taste to the liquid in his goblet. The first was sweet; this was tart, but much more pleasing than the other drink. Shan Kwan spoke with a tone of finality.
“You wish to speak with the one you serve,” he nodded. “That will be well. It pleases me. I shall trust in your promise to communicate with me later. Loy Ming, my guests have had repast. You will conduct them—”
SHAN KWAN paused to stare at Harry Vincent. The young man was wavering in his chair. Harry tried to grin; his smile was sickly. Shan Kwan beckoned; two servants aided Harry to his feet.
“I guess — I guess it was that dope from last night,” stammered Harry. “Eating so soon — and drinking something I never had before. I–I feel dizzy—”
Cliff was leaning across the table. He stared at Harry, then turned wildly to Shan Kwan.
“The music!” exclaimed Cliff. “He needs the music! Bring it back — it doesn’t seem right without it—”
Shan Kwan clapped his hands; the music began again, as melodious as before. But it seemed a jangle to Harry; the scent of the incense stifled him. Harry sagged; but as his eyelids dropped, he noted Cliff settling back with an air of contentment.
“You must rest again,” decided Shan Kwan. His voice came hazily to Harry. “Help him to his room; his companion will come for him later.”
Harry tried to protest that he was all right; but words could not reach his lips. He saw Loy Ming arise to lead the way; then the servants supported him toward the stairs. Harry was conscious of the trip down, then through the corridors. It ended in the room where he had awakened. More comfortable, yet still somewhat dizzy, Harry rested.
Long minutes passed. About a quarter hour had elapsed when Cliff entered the room and surveyed his companion with a grin that seemed bleary to Harry. Resting, Harry managed to speak.
“I–I’m pretty dizzy, Cliff. That tart stuff was too strong, I guess. Did — did you have any of it?”
“My drink was sweet,” returned Cliff. “Sweet with sweet music. Perfumed air, the atmosphere of old China — it was swell, Harry, swell!”
“We’ve got to start, Cliff. I — we — both of us have our duty to perform.”
“Don’t worry, Harry. Go back to sleep; that’s what I’m going to do. I’m feeling light; but I’m steady. Plenty steady. We’re all alone here — I had them close the door. Don’t worry, Harry.”
“But unless we go—”
“I fixed it.” Cliff leaned forward and balanced on the edge of Harry’s couch. “Fixed it with the mandarin, see? I knew you weren’t feeling good, so I talked with Shan Kwan.”
“He asked you questions?”
“Not a one. I just told him a few things. Like us being on our way to Scranton. Our having to be back in New York tonight. Said I should have sent a wire — needed to make a complete report—”
“You talked about the Fate Joss?”
“Said I’d seen it once. Told him I guessed it was safe. He and I went into a room where there was a telephone. I called Burbank.”
“With the mandarin there?”
Harry tried to rise from his couch. Cliff chuckled and pushed him back.
“Not a bit of it,” he laughed. “I wrote out what I was going to say. Word for word, so I’d get it straight. I’m feeling woozy, too, eating and drinking on top of that dope. So I fixed it just right. The mandarin went out before I talked to Burbank.”
“He was there until you talked?”
“Just a little while. Had some suggestions; wanted me to write them down. So I could pass them along. I did the rest, Harry, and I burned up what I’d wrote. Burned it up, in with some incense, so nobody would see it. What’s more, I’ve forgotten it already, most of it. Everything’s fixed swell, Harry. We stay right here and get a little sleep. Then we’ll move along, unless we get some word from — unless we get some word.”
“What time is it now, Cliff?”
Cliff looked at his watch; he shook his head and dropped it back in his pocket. He reached for Harry’s watch, glanced at it and let it slide back.
“Both of them stopped,” he declared. “Don’t matter, though. It can’t be after ten o’clock. Two hours yet to noon, Harry. You take a nap; I’ll do the same.”
Harry settled back and closed his eyes. Cliff moved slowly across the room, dropped on his own couch and stretched out with a weary sigh.
“It’s all right, Harry,” Harry heard him say. “All right, old top; everything’s been fixed. Fixed just right — so’s we can take a little rest. Fixed just right—”
Cliff’s phrases slowed; they became a mumble. Harry, however, heard no more of them. His dizziness had faded; reassured by Cliff’s statements, Harry had dropped off to sleep.
Shan Kwan’s guests had enjoyed the mandarin’s hospitality and had chosen to remain within these comfortable walls.
CHAPTER XVI
THE SHADOW’S RETURN
IT was half past ten in the evening. Dark silence gripped the street in front of Kao Dwin’s curio shop. Behind closed shutters, voices whispered in Chinese. The Shadow was holding conversation with Kao Dwin.
The whispers ended. Soon after, a blackened figure emerged from the rear door of the curio shop.
There was no telephone at Kao Dwin’s; that had been an oversight on the part of Yat Soon. The Shadow, however, found no difficulty in arriving and departing unseen, for Kao Dwin had brought his bag to the curio shop. Leaving Kao Dwin in charge, The Shadow was leaving to form contact with Burbank.
This would be his first call since last night, for The Shadow had remained constantly in the curio shop. The police had ended their search for one missing Chinaman; the watch had begun for Doctor Tam. Day had followed night; then evening had returned. The Chinese physician had not visited the obscure street, nor had any one who might have passed for Doctor Tam.
The Shadow, when he had taken up his vigil, had done so in the belief that all was secure. Harry and Cliff had started for Scranton with the truck; Hawkeye and Jericho were on duty at the hiding place of the Fate Joss. This evening, however, was the time for Harry and Cliff to return. The Shadow wanted to be sure that they had gained some rest on the road, enough to fit them for a new turn on watch.
Arrived in his sanctum, The Shadow clicked on the bluish light. He studied brief reports from Clyde Burke; these included details of the police search in Chinatown. No clue had been had as to the cause of the fray that occurred there. The reports read, The Shadow picked up the earphones and spoke to Burbank.