Then, before he had recovered from a momentary dizziness, they were walking forward again. To Hugo Urvin’s surprise, they encountered no solid wall. Instead, they were moving through a pitch-black passage that had mysteriously opened for them.
Strange adventure had come to Hugo Urvin. Here, in a show place of Chinatown, a spot apparently designed merely to attract gawking sightseers, he was being conducted to the meeting promised by a mysterious voice which had crackled through the receiver of the telephone in his apartment.
Where would the mission end?
Hugo Urvin did not know; but he was sure now that this could be no hoax. Somewhere, at the end of this strange walk, he would meet another other than Chon Look, the Buddhist.
Kwa!
The word was a name — so the voice had said. Now, Hugo Urvin sensed that it was Kwa himself who must have spoken; and at the end of this passage he would meet the singular being who bore that strange title!
CHAPTER V. THE LIVING JOSS
THE passage ended after a series of devious twists and turns. The finish was abrupt. Chon Look’s tightening grasp prevented Hugo Urvin from bumping into a solid barrier that blocked farther progress.
Something clicked. A panel rose like a curtain. Light from a room beyond was the indication of the panel.
The barrier, itself, was invisible; but the illumination rose slowly from the floor, and Chon Look conducted the American into an oddly shaped chamber which was hung with gorgeous tapestries.
The only article of furniture was a huge taboret, posted near the further wall. In front and on either side were incense burners — three in all — from which slow wreathes of smoke curled lazily toward the ceiling, to dissemble in the heavy, pungent atmosphere.
Hugo Urvin noted that the legs of the taboret were open. The top of the object was heavy, and appeared almost as a throne. The young man found himself standing alone. Chon Look had retired to a corner of the room.
Looking for the Chinaman, Urvin saw first that the panel through which they had entered was now closed; then he observed that Chon Look had picked up a heavy brass gong and a hammer.
Approaching the large taboret, Chon Look motioned in that direction with the hammer. Then, as Hugo watched, the Buddhist struck the gong. The effect was most surprising. No clang occurred, although Urvin seemed to sense the reverberations of the stroke. The gong was soundless!
Before Urvin had recovered from his momentary amazement, another phenomenon took place. As in response to the noiseless stroke of wood against brass, each incense burner delivered a simultaneous puff. Sudden clouds of smoke shot upward, forming a heavy white veil around the taboret. When the smoke was gone, Hugo Urvin blinked.
A figure had appeared upon the taboret. A seated, cross-legged form clad in a gold-threaded Oriental jacket, was resting upon the seat which had been vacant before the puffs had come.
“Kwa,” announced Chon Look, with a bow.
HUGO URVIN was staring at a venomous face. It was the most evil visage that he had ever seen.
Bulging eyes, a twisted nose, thick, puckered lips, and sharp, jutting teeth; these were the features of Kwa’s countenance.
Raising a scrawny, long-nailed hand, the hideous monster gesticulated toward Chon Look. The Buddhist bowed and retired.
Hugo Urvin thought he had merely gone to replace the gong in the corner; but when the young man looked behind, he noted that Chon Look was gone. The Chinaman must have passed through the panel and let it close behind him.
Nervously, Urvin turned to face Kwa. He felt an irrepressible awe of this fiendish being. This feeling was increased when the monster uttered a crackling chuckle — the same sound that Urvin had heard across the telephone wire.
“I am Kwa,” announced the robed occupant of the odd throne. “I am the one who summoned you, Hugo Urvin. You were wise to give me your response.”
The incense burners were curling their thin smoke upward. They wreathed the demon with streaks of whiteness. The hideousness of Kwa became even more impressive; yet Hugo Urvin managed to preserve his wits.
He had been brought here for a purpose ostensibly to his advantage. Despite the gloating meanness of Kwa’s face, there was, as yet, no reason to believe in any menace.
“I summoned you,” continued Kwa, in his peculiarly accented voice, “because I need you. In return I offer what you need. Money.”
Urvin nodded.
“Money,” repeated Kwa, with emphasis. “You shall have it if you promise to do my bidding.”
Again, Urvin nodded. He was speechless. He realized, also, that he might commit himself by too definite an answer before he had learned what Kwa desired. The nod could be taken either as understanding or as willingness to obey; yet it would be possible to retract the sign.
Kwa seemed to divine the young man’s thoughts. The monster chuckled and spoke again, making his next statement quite specific.
“Your duties,” he crackled, “will be limited to those which you can easily perform. So long as you preserve the secrecy which I demand, there will be no danger from outside. So long as you do not fail to do my bidding, there will be no danger here.”
A pause; then Kwa demanded:
“Do you promise?”
“Yes,” agreed Urvin. “I promise.”
“That is good,” chuckled Kwa. “Tell me — have you ever heard of Kwa?”
“Never.”
“I am Kwa. I am the one whom my followers call the Living Joss. They look upon me as a strange being — a demigod upon earth. They are right in their belief. I am Kwa.”
The words were uttered with an impressive confidence that made Hugo Urvin shudder. The strange passage to this place; the soundless gong; the arrival of Kwa amid a puff of incense smoke; these were manifestations that could not be denied.
“The hands of Kwa” — the creature extended his long-nailed claws — “stretch everywhere. They reach out from this abode to pluck whatever Kwa may need. They can reach you, now that you belong to Kwa.
“But you need not fear, so long as you obey. You will not need to see the face of Kwa again; yet you will have new dealings with the one whom you first met — Chon Look. To you, he will give objects wrapped in paper — such as this.”
With a sweeping gesture, Kwa drew a piece of layered rice paper from his jacket and held it between his claws. He made a peeling motion; the paper separated into two sheets, which Kwa scanned as though reading an important message.
“You will come as you did tonight,” added Kwa, “whenever you have word to leave; whenever you have orders to receive. You need not speak to Chon Look. He will understand, and he will talk. And never” — the crackling voice became insidious in tone — “repeat the name of Kwa. You are not one who can safely pronounce the title of the Living Joss!”
The horrible creature waved its arms. Again, the incense burners puffed. Smoke, like a steam jet, covered the taboret. The cloud dispelled. Kwa was gone!
HUGO URVIN stood in profound amazement. While he was rooted to the spot, he heard a sound behind him. He turned swiftly to face Chon Look, who had returned. The Buddhist pointed to an open panel. Urvin followed his Chinese guide.
They reached the blackness of the shrine, after an untraceable route. Urvin felt himself spun around; the lights came on, and he was back in the room from which he had started, with no idea of where the passage had begun.
Chon Look pointed to the corner where the wishing sticks were lying. Urvin moved in that direction.
Chon Look opened a door. The Chinese girls entered, and a few minutes later a crowd of sightseers flocked in, accompanied by a new guide.