The Bronze Hand | Page 8

floor at my feet, with a
morsel of wax sticking to one of its points. This was conclusive. The
man had discovered why his key would not work, and had called to his
aid the young lady, who had evidently been waiting in the hall outside.
She had tried to pick out the wax--a task in which I had happily
interrupted her.
Proud of the success of my device, and satisfied that the danger was
over for that day (it being well on to twelve o'clock), I said a few words
more to the doctor, who had followed me into the room, and then
prepared to take my departure. But the young lady was more agile than
I. Saying something about a very pressing engagement which would
not allow her to consult the doctor that day, she hurried ahead of me
and ran quickly down the long hall. The doctor looked astonished, but
dismissed the matter with a shrug; while, with the greatest desire to
follow her, I stood hesitating on the threshold, when my eye fell on a
small object lying under the chair on which she had been sitting. It was
the little leathern bag I had seen hanging at her side.
Catching it up, I explained that I would run after the young lady and
restore it; and glad of an excuse which would enable me to follow her
through the streets without risking the suspicion of impropriety, I
hastened down the stairs and happily succeeded in reaching the

pavement before her skirts whisked round the corner. I was therefore
but a few paces behind her, which distance I took good care to
preserve.

III. MADAME.
My motive in following this young girl was not so much to restore her
property, as to see where her engagement was taking her. I felt
confident that none of the three persons who had shown interest in the
box was the prime mover in an affair so important; and it was necessary
above all things to find out who the prime mover was. So I followed
the girl.
She led me into a doubtful quarter of the town. As the crowd between
us diminished and we reached a point where we were the only
pedestrians on the block we were then traversing, I grew anxious lest
she should turn and see me before arriving at her destination. But she
evidently was without suspicion, for she passed without any hesitation
up a certain stoop in the middle of this long block and entered an open
door on which a brass plate was to be seen, inscribed with this one
word in large black letters:
"MADAME."
This was odd; and as I had no inclination to encounter any "madame"
without some hint as to her character and business, I looked about me
for some one able and willing to give me the necessary information. An
upholsterer's shop in an opposite basement seemed to offer me the
opportunity I wanted. Crossing the street, I saluted the honest-looking
man I met in the doorway, and pointing out madame's house, asked
what was done over there.
He answered with a smile.
"Go and see," he said; "the door's open. Oh, they don't charge
anything," he made haste to protest, misunderstanding, no doubt, my air
of hesitation. "I was in there once myself. They all sit round and she

talks; that is, if she feels like it. It is all nonsense, you know, sir; no
good in it."
"But is there any harm?" I asked. "Is the place reputable and safe?"
"Oh, safe enough; I never heard of anything going wrong there. Why,
ladies go there; real ladies; veiled, of course. I have seen two carriages
at a time standing in front of that door. Fools, to be sure, sir; but honest
enough, I suppose."
I needed no further encouragement. Recross-ing the street, I entered the
house which stood so invitingly open, and found myself almost
immediately in a large hall, from which I was ushered by a silent
negress into a long room with so dim and mysterious an interior that I
felt like a man suddenly transported from the bustle of the out-door
world into the mystic recesses of some Eastern temple.
The causes of this effect were simple, A dim light suggesting worship;
the faint scent of slowly burning incense; women and men sitting on
low benches about the walls. In the center, on a kind of raised dais,
backed by a drapery of black velvet, a woman was seated, in the
semblance of a Hindoo god, so nearly did her heavy, compactly
crouched figure, wound about with Eastern stuffs and glistening with
gold, recall the images we are accustomed to associate with the worship
of Vishnu. Her face, too, so far as it