Argosy All-Story Weekly — page 20: what you’re looking at

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

810 straight lines of snowy marble broken only by the windows with dark, graceful vines trailing from the boxes on each sill. It appeared to be semidetached from the farther house by a conservatory of some sort. But there was no time to explore fur- ther, for the watchman had halted and In- spector Druet mounted the wide, shallow steps and rang the bell. McCarty followed with Dennis at his heels, and as they paused, the soft but deeply resonant tones of an organ came to their ears from behind the windows to their right, from which emanated a subdued glow of light. From the far end of the street behind them a faint but echoing gong sounded, and with an exclamation of annoyance the watchman hurried off to open the gate on the park side for the entrance of a motor car. He had scarcely passed beyond ear- shot when the inspector whispered to Mc- Carty: “ What’s the idea, Mac? Did you hear what the watchman said? B. P. didn’t be- long here, in spite of the tag on the key- ring.” . ‘“No more he did, sir,” McCarty agreed, but there was a significant lack of disap- pointment in his tone. ‘‘ I just want a word with the one that opens the door.” There was no sound of footsteps from within, but when the door opened just as McCarty finished speaking he found him- self facing an individual silhouetted against the soft light of low lamps before whom for the moment even his ready tongue was silenced, although Dennis choked. They were confronted by a man who, though taller than the average of his race, was un- mistakably Mongolian and clad in the flow- ing robes of his native land. He bowed slightly, but in a dignified fashion, and then as the visitors still remained silent he asked: “ What is it you desire, please?” His voice was high and monotonously singsong, but it bore no trace of an accent, and McCarty drew a breath of relief. “We don’t want-to disturb Mr. Orbit if there’s been a mistake made, but a man who says he’s a servant here has met with a bit of an accident,” he explained glibly. “ He’s kind of stout with a round, red face and a “Jittle bald spot on his head. Forty-five ARGOSY-ALLSTORY WEEKLY. or nearer fifty years old, he might be. Can you tell us his name?” | McCarty had edged closer to the side of the wide entrance door so that in continu- ing to face him the Chinaman had been compelled to turn until the low light played across his countenance, but it remained gravely inscrutable as he listened. Al- though there was a perceptible pause, when he did reply the words followed each other without hesitation. “It is Hughes, the valet. You desire to talk with Mr. Orbit? He is engaged, but I will see if he can receive you.” He closed the door after them and as he started to lead the way the long cue which depended from his head almost to his knees swayed with his silent, rolling walk. ‘A Chink!” Dennis whispered. “ What is he, the laundress here?” Once again his remark went unheeded, for McCarty was staring about him. The investigations in which, officially and unof- ficially, he had played a part had taken him into the homes of the wealthy more than once, but never had he entered an apartment of such studiedly unostentatious magnificence as this hall of Mr. Henry Or- bit’s house. He could not know that he walked among almost priceless treasures; that the dim panels on the walls were Catalan tapestries of the fifteenth century, that the frescoed ceiling had known the inspired brush of Raphael himself and the great carved chair, secretly removed from the Duomo long ago, had once rested the exhausted but dauntless frame of Savonarola. The ex-roundsman only could feel with some strange, unerring sixth sense that he was in the hallowed atmosphere of the perfection of art and beauty and he trod as lightly as his clump- ing boots would permit on the ancient, deep-piled rug beneath his feet. The Chinese butler conducted them to a spacious room at the left of the hall, bowed them to chairs and withdrew, closing the door behind him, but not before the swell- ing notes of the organ rose from the room opposite, filling their ears with a crescendo of glorious harmony which made the im- pressionable Dennis catch his breath and instinctively bow his head. COMMCOOOKS.60) ~~