Adventure, June 1911 — page 159: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

The Emerald Buddha out of shape. Queer old house, I fancy. Supposed to be haunted or something of the sort. I imagine it won’t worry you much.” “Hardly,” replied my companion. “I’ve outgrown ghosts. Lead on to the haunted chamber.” The Major turned to the servant. “Show the gentlemen to the two rooms in the west wing, Gibson—the green room will suit Mr. Ashton, I fancy, and perhaps Mr. Morgan will find the white-and-gold room across the hall comfortable for the night.” I found my room a large and fairly com- fortable one, and busied myself in making such preparations for dinner as I could with the few requisites my small knapsack contained. AFTER a considerable time I heard the musical notes of a Chinese gong ~ and, making my way to thestair- case, I saw Ashton just joining a strikingly beautiful and distinguished looking girl of perhaps twenty-two or -three, dressed in an evening gown of white, the very simplicity of which only served to accentuate the splendid lines of her figure. With her splendid eyes and wide brow, crowned with a mass of bronze-colored hair, I felt that even my critical artistic taste could with difficulty find a flaw. It was evident that she and Mr. Ashton knew each other well, yet it seemed to me that Miss Temple did not respond with much cordiality to his effusive greeting. As I joined them, Major Temple pre- sented me as a friend of Mr. Ashton’s, which, it appeared to me, did not predispose that young lady particularly in my favor. CHAPTER I a Ie vy AN APPEAL FOR HELP URING dinner the two men talked continually of China, and referred fre- quently to “‘it,” and to “‘the stone.” I at- tempted to carry on a conversation with Miss Temple, but she seemed laboring under intense excitement and unable to give my efforts any real attention. As near as I could gather, Ashton had set out from Hong Kong some months before on a search for a certain stone or jewel which Major Temple desired for his collection, and after an adven- turous trip, during which he had been forced at the risk of his life to remain disguised as .of the jewel. 345 a coolie for some weeks, had finally escaped and returned to England. There was also some talk of a reward, which seemed to give Mr. Ashton great sat- isfaction and to cause Major Temple much uneasiness, for I saw him glance frequently at the blanched face of his daughter. As Mr. Ashton brought his thrilling story to a conclusion hé drew from his waistcoat pocket a small, green, leather case, evi- dently of Chinese workmanship, and turned. out upon the white cloth a miniature repre- sentation of the god Buddha, above an inch and a half in height and wonderfully cut from a single flawless emerald! As the wonderful, sparkling gem flashed across the white cloth in the direction of Miss Temple an expression of intense horror passed over her face as she caught the burn- ing eyes of Mr. Ashton fixed upon hers. She returned his gaze defiantly for a mo- ment, then lowered her eyes and composed her features behind the cold and impassive mask she had worn throughout the evening. Ashton flushed a sullen red, then picked up the jewel and set it carelessly upon the top of a cut-glass salt-cellar and I was startled to see the wooden, impassive face of the Chinese servant light up with a glare of sudden anger and alarm as he caught sight Major Temple, observing him at the same moment, quickly covered the figure with his hand, and the Chinaman, resuming almost instantly his customary look of childlike unconcern, proceeded to offer us cigars and cigarettes as Miss Temple rose and left the table. I excused myself, feeling superfluous, and strolled into the great hall, where I stood with my back to the welcome fire, listening to the howling of the storm without. Perhaps fifteen minutes later Miss Tem- ple came quickly into the hall, the beauty of her delicate, mobile face marred by evident mental suffering. “You are a friend of Mr. Ashton’s,” she said, as she came up to me. “Have you known him long?”’ ““Miss Temple, I am afraid I can hardly claim to be a friend of Mr. Ashton’s. I never met him before this afternoon.” “But I thought you came with him?” she said. I explained my presence, and mentioned my work, “Then you are Owen Morgan, the illus- trator!” she cried. “I know your work CORNICLO© SHIGEO