“I can smell the perfume of her house on your clothes.”
“What a nose you have, my darling.”
“You make me sound like the wolf in Red Riding Hood. All the better I should say to smell out your secrets.”
He kissed me lightly on the nose. “What a mercy that I have none from you,” he said.
“I should have thought that Lottie’s matrimonial affairs should be discussed with me rather than you.”
“Oh, you don’t know the Chinese. It’s the men who arrange these matters.”
He was so plausible. When I was near him I believed him. How could I ever have thought that he would deceive me?
I was always swamped by my love for him, by my need of him; for that tremendous physical bond which held us together.
I would believe him now that we were together. Later perhaps in the night when I awoke suddenly and looked towards the door for fear that I should see the Mask of Death, the doubts would come back again.
Someone in this house had threatened me.
I would find out who, and in order to do so I must not allow myself to be deluded.
I had always known that Joliffe liked Lottie and she him, although I think she had been disappointed when I married. Not exactly disappointed but fearful. She knew of course that Jason was his son and that something had gone wrong. She probably put all this down to the inscrutable ways of the foreign devils.
Now I began to notice certain glances between them. A fondness in his expression when he spoke to her or of her; of Lottie I could not be sure. Those giggles which indicate tragedy or amusement had always bemused me.
I knew that she often visited Chan Cho Lan. This had been a regular feature of her life since she came to us, so there was nothing unusual about that. I asked her how she felt about this union which was being arranged for her.
“Very happy,” she said dolefully.
“You don’t sound it, Lottie.”
“Shall wait and see,” she said.
“You should be dancing with joy,” I said.
“No.” She shook her head. “Nothing all good.”
“Have you seen this man?”
“Yes, I have.”
“He is young… handsome?”
She nodded.
I put my arms about her. “Is it that you don’t want to leave us?”
She laid her forehead against me in a helpless gesture which I found appealing.
“We’ll see you often, Lottie,” I said. “I shall ask you and your husband to visit us. To come to tea…”
She turned away giggling.
II
I was now feeling as strong as I ever had. My energy—both physical and mental—had returned. I now faced my suspicions squarely. Something mysterious was going on. Someone had attempted if not to kill me to harm me and when I thought of what had happened to Sylvester I believed that the same method was being used on me. Sylvester had died—whether as a result of these methods or not I could not be entirely sure, but if he had been poisoned however mildly this could not have done him any good.
He had had violent dreams. He had seen the Mask of Death.
And so had I.
I had been awakened from my sleep by it. I now believed that I had been awake when I saw it, and if this was the case then I must have seen someone.
I was going to discover.
The next day I feigned listlessness and retired to my bed. I spent two hours there watching, ready to leap from my bed at the moment the apparition appeared. Nothing happened. The next day I tried it again.
Just as I was beginning to despair I fancied I heard a faint movement. I was tense, watchful, my eyes on the door. Then I saw it move… quietly, slowly. The face was in the doorway glaring at me from the gloom.
I leaped out of bed. The door shut but I was there in a matter of seconds.
I opened the door. There was nothing in the corridor. I ran to the stairs. I was just in time to see a flash of red on the curve of the staircase.
I started down… but as I got to the curve the staircase was empty.
I went on down. I was in the hall and there was no sign of an apparition.
Still, I had proved something. It did not vanish as such an apparition might be expected to. It had to run to get away.
Somewhere down here someone who had masqueraded as this thing must be hiding. I was going to search until I found out.
There were four doors through which it could have passed. I hesitated. Then I opened one door and went in.
The room appeared to be empty. I looked in the alcove, behind the draperies. Nothing.
Hastily I went from room to room. All were empty and silent.
I stood in the hall and once more the silence of the house enveloped me. Apprehension swept over me.
I knew that I would be doubly vulnerable now. Someone was threatening me, perhaps threatening my life. This person was a murderer. He had intended to kill me slowly presumably to divert suspicion. But now I had betrayed the fact that I was suspicious. I had been lying in wait and had just not been quick enough to seize the dragon to pull off his disguise and expose him.
I had shown that I was ready, waiting.
The lanterns were lighted in several of the rooms. It was dark now. The house took on a different character with the fading light. At such times it seemed very quiet indeed, when a distant sound would startle one.
I had promised myself that by day I would examine those four rooms which led from the hall. It must have been in one of these that someone masquerading under the dragon’s robe had entered.
The lanterns were lighted as they always were in these lower rooms, but even so the light was dim. I looked round the room. Where could the masquerader have gone to? Could he have hidden in one room while I looked into another? How could he have slipped away? He had his costume to dispose of.
These were the rooms with the paneled walls. The lantern threw a dim light on the paneling which was not what one would have expected to find in a Chinese house.
I examined the paneling. There had been something like it at Roland’s Croft. And then suddenly as I stood there my heart leaped in excitement, for protruding from the panel was a tiny fragment of red cloth.
I stooped and examined it. I tried to pull at it but I could not budge it. Then I saw that it was wedged in the wall.
My heart began to beat very fast. I ran to the door and closed it.
I went over to that fragment of protruding cloth.
I should call someone and tell them what I had found.
Tell whom? Joliffe. But to tell Joliffe… I was horrified, for I was ranging myself against Joliffe. I had to face all the facts if I were going to discover what was going on. I had to stand outside my love for him. I had to be reasonable. I had to listen to logic.
I went to the wall. I took the material in my hand. There was very little of it. I tried to pull it out.
As I did so the gap in the paneling widened.
There was enough space now for me to get my fingers in and I pulled.
Very slowly the panel was drawn back and I was looking straight into that evil face.
I drew back gasping. The thing seemed to sway towards me.
Then I saw that it was a robe with a hood and on this hood was painted the face which had frightened me. The Mask of Death—luminous paint that shone in the dark. An evil expression which lingered long in the mind.
“You idiot!” I said aloud. “It’s a robe of some sort, the sort they wear for processions. Somebody who knew of this secret place has been using it.”
I forced myself to go right up to that yawning cavity to look the Mask of Death straight in the face. I touched the red cloth. That was all it was. And it was hung on a nail with the face showing so that a quick glance made it seem like a living image.