Hugo Urvin listened to Chon Look’s monotonous lecture. At a motion from the Chinaman, he joined the departing throng after the talk had been completed. The girls were by the door now, handing little packages to Chon Look. The guide was explaining that the keeper of the shrine sometimes gave gifts to his patrons. Urvin received one of the packages and placed it in his pocket.
Outside, the guide held the crowd until one of the girls appeared to collect fifty cents from each visitor.
The guide explained that this was necessary to support the shrine. Several sightseers growled their disapproval, but the collection went on, while the guide reminded them that he had mentioned that the temple trip cost extra.
Riding back to upper Broadway, Hugo Urvin still clutched the package in his pocket. He went to his apartment after he alighted from the bus, and hastily opened the parcel. Within the paper wrapping, he discovered five fifty dollar bills.
The young man pocketed the money with a laugh. This trip had proven profitable. He hoped that it was but the forerunner of many more. There was only one catch — the duty that Kwa might have imposed upon him.
The gift box in the package contained a little desk piece of the three wise monkeys. Urvin smiled as he laid it aside. He took the paper wrapping and spread it at the edge. It peeled into two pieces. One bore writing.
Urvin’s smile continued as he read the instructions. A very simple duty had been imposed upon him; one that he could perform with ease. He would take care of the matter tomorrow evening.
Pocketing two hundred and fifty dollars, Urvin felt that he was on the road to easy money. He walked around the room in pleased fashion. He happened to glance at the table where he had placed the note from Kwa; and while he was wondering whether to destroy or keep the message, the paper took care of itself.
Puff! The sheet that held the writing broke forth with a flash of flame. As Urvin stepped back from the light, he saw that the message was reduced to ashes.
Flash paper — Urvin had seen it work before. But always, he had seen it ignited. This sheet had evidently been treated with a chemical that worked automatically after one portion of the peeled paper had been pulled from the other.
Whatever the explanation might be, the fiery disappearance of the message made Urvin remember the strange manifestations within the temple of Kwa.
The young man forced a laugh when he recalled Kwa’s statement that he, Kwa, was a Living Joss.
Nevertheless, Urvin could not forget the horror of that scene in the hidden room reaches from the Buddhist shrine.
As he left the apartment to test the spending power of the first fifty-dollar bill, Urvin found the words of Kwa still ringing in his ears.
All would be well — if he obeyed. There were reasons to obey the will of Kwa. One was the fiendishness of the strange creature himself; the other was the crinkle of the fifty-dollar bills which Urvin could feel in his pocket.
There was no question in the young man’s mind. Kwa had chosen well. He had found an unscrupulous servitor to do his bidding.
Hugo Urvin intended to obey.
CHAPTER VI. KWA PREPARES
THE hidden temple was not long deserted after Hugo Urvin had left it. As soon as the sightseers had gone, Chon Look went to one side of the shrine and pressed his hand against the side of a five-shelved rack which contained ornaments of jade and china.
The rack moved upward to reveal a gaping hole in the wall. Chon Look entered the passage, and the rack smoothly descended without disturbing the objects on its shelves.
At the same time, a similar scene was taking place in another part of Chinatown, nearly a block away from the Buddhist shrine. A Chinese merchant, whose little shop bore the name of Soy Foon, along with Chinese characters, closed the front door of his place, and went into a back room.
Soy Foon — the merchant was attired in his native costume — approached a rack which resembled the one in the Buddhist shrine. He performed the same action that Chon Look had exerted. The rack raised upward with its load of curios; Soy Foon entered an open passage, and the barrier slid down in back of him.
When he came to a final barrier, Soy Foon pressed a catch, and a panel arose to admit him to Kwa’s temple. Chon Look was already there. The Buddhist had arrived by a different entrance than the one used by the merchant. Thus there were two passages to the hidden temple, starting from places a block apart.
Chon Look picked up the gong and gave it a soundless stroke. Both Chinamen blinked solemnly toward the heavy taboret. A terrific puff of smoke came from the burners. When it cleared away, the glaring figure of Kwa was in view. The Chinamen bowed to this creature, whom they hailed as a Living Joss.
Kwa was the first to speak. His words were crackling and slowly accented, but now they came in the Chinese tongue. He questioned these men who came to serve him, and they made their replies.
“The man is gone,” announced Chon Look. “He will do your bidding, great Kwa.”
“My men are prepared, great Kwa,” declared Soy Foon. “They are ready to do the bidding of Kwa. I have spoken with them tonight; with Koy Shan, the Mighty; with Chun Shi, the Crafty.”
Delight gleamed upon the hideous face of Kwa. The protruding teeth that extended from the puffy, snarling lips were fierce as they champed.
“It is well,” stated Kwa. “To you, Chon Look, belongs one duty; to you, Soy Foon, another. Those of the other race” — it was plain that he referred to Americans — “shall come to you, Chon Look. Those of our race” — both listeners bowed, as though accepting Kwa as a Chinese — “shall come to you, Soy Foon.
“Guard well the gates” — Kwa laughed scornfully — “for although Kwa needs no guarding, he is but seldom in his temple. Even now, I, Kwa, shall soon depart.”
The Living Joss ceased speaking. His wild, glaring eyes stared at one Celestial; then at the other. Chon Look and Soy Foon stood in apparent awe. While they watched, a puff of smoke came from the incense burners. The steamy cloud cleared. Kwa was gone from his throne.
The atmosphere seemed to absorb these jets; its heavy fragrance had become almost sickening, but the Chinese appeared used to it. Without another word, each man turned. Chon Look left by one entrance; Soy Foon by the other.
BACK in his shrine, Chon Look stood pondering while he awaited the arrival of another crowd of tourists. Chon Look had fared well since he had become a follower of Kwa. Once an obscure merchant in Chinatown, he had mysteriously received funds with which to establish his shrine as one gate to Kwa’s hidden temple.
The shrine was hardly more than a fake; nevertheless, Chon Look had not been criticized for opening it.
In fact, other Chinese admired his enterprise. American sightseers were considered open game in parts of Chinatown, and Chon Look, by a tie-up with the bus owners, soon had a going enterprise.
Backed by funds, he was in a position to defy would-be competitors. It was generally believed that Chon Look had been smart enough to turn the earnings from his old shop into this profitable business. Many Chinese would have been surprised had they known the true source of Chon Look’s funds.
The artificial Buddhist shrine formed the best possible blind for the hidden temple of Kwa. With a constant stream of sightseers pouring into it, Chon Look had no need for other revenue. Hence, the police who patrolled the Chinatown zone classed this place as one that needed no watching.
Chon Look knew this. His bland face indicated the fact after his return from Kwa’s inner temple.
Moreover, he understood Kwa’s wisdom in using this shrine as a place for contact with Americans.
The young man who had come here tonight had merely been an odd member of a bus party seeing Chinatown. That same man could come again — and yet again — always in the same capacity!