Argosy All-Story Weekly, Vol. 123, No. 3 — page 30: what you’re looking at

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

312 It was a dingy old house, full of disre- pair and genteel negligence. There was an’ elevator which had normally but three stops —basement, first floor, and second floor. Not . infrequently, however, the elevator would halt en route, and only a certain cun- ning shake of the cable would persuade it to continue its course. Even John Duck, who had been established in his present quarters long before Thornton took over the house, usually preferred the stairs. John Duck was something of a genial . mystery. A small, urbane man, slightly saffron in hue, he wore large round specta- cles edged with black shell. On the street, he always wore an English walking-suit; what he wore in his rooms, nobody knew. He was invariably dapper, smiling, polite. Bixby Thornton had seen John Duck’s rooms only once. He had gained a confused impression of heathen deities, gilded and un- pleasant; of the largest chamber, that which contained the oriel windows jutting over the side entry, furnished with work-bench and retorts, bottles, and chemical apparatus; and of a large serpent of brass which bore a crystal ball in one claw. At least, he mentally termed it a serpent, which was close enough to the truth. John Duck said very frankly that he was engaged in research work, a term which covers a multitude of sins;.and said noth- ing further. The gilded deities caused Thornton to class the man as a heathen. Upon the day following the evening’ whereupon Thornton wiped the red smear from his hand, Mrs. Thornton departed upon a visit to her cousin, who lived in Brooklyn. Thornton accompanied his wife to the subway, then returned home. On the way he purchased a paper. As he was nearing his house, he encountered John Duck, was greeted with a polite smile and a bow, and passed on. With the afternoon before him, Bixby Thornton settled down to peruse hiS news- paper. The first thing that struck his eye was the account of a body found in the street near his own house that same morn- ing. The body was that of a Chinaman, whose throat had been cut. “My Lord!” exclaimed Thornton. “‘ Then—then that was what—”’ ARGOSY-ALLSTORY WEEKLY. A jangle of the door-bell completed his sentence. The thin jangle came from up- stairs. Knowing that he was alone in the house, Thornton rose and went to the door. He found a messenger boy, who queried partly whether he were John Duck. “No,” said Thornton. “ He’s out. You carr leave any message with me—”’ ‘“‘Got a bundle.” The boy produced a small, soft parcel wrapped in butcher’s paper. “Fifty cents collect. Sign here. Ain't it hell how every»ody sends things collect so’s it ‘Il get delivered sure? Thanks.” ' Thornton went indoors with the bundle, laid it aside, and resumed his paper. He wanted to discover more about that dead Chinaman, and he did. He discovered the unpleasant fact that approximately two square feet of skin had been removed from the back of the yellow man, either before or after the latter’s throat had been cut. The identity of the victim was unknown. “This is a devil of a business!’ reflected Bixby Thornton. He had dealt much with yellow men in his work with the narcotics squad, even knew a smattering of their tongue. “ Yet it hardly seems possible that John Duck could have actually—” He paused as his eye fell upon the pack- age. What was in that bundle? be possible that John Duck was engaged in some illicit traffic? Narcotics command- ed huge prices, of course; any yellow man would be in a position to sell opium or mor- phine without trouble. The package was tied with string, carelessly. Thornton took up the package, turned it over. He started; upon the brown paper he beheld the three ideographs: “ Pw-kan- ching’’ which means, substantially, “ un- clean.”” Temptation seized upon him sus- picion goaded him. With sudden determi- nation. he broke the string and opened it. From it he took a smalt roll of human skin recently fleshed. There could be no — mistake. With shaking fingers, Thornton brought &@ magnifying-glass to bear, and confirmed his diagnosis. It was human skin with a decidedly yellow hue; it was the piece of skin removed from the back of the murdered Chinaman. —_—— egupe-O1 | CLL ale e@ Tall Could it ~