The Romance of Elaine | Page 4

he found on the ground under my window."
She handed Kennedy a box, a peculiar affair which she touched gingerly and only with signs of the greatest aversion.
Kennedy opened it. There, in the bottom of the box, was a little ivory devil-god. He looked at it curiously a moment.
"Let me see," he ruminated, still regarding the sign. "The house you bought for Aunt Tabby, once belonged to Bennett, didn't it?"
Elaine nodded her head. "Yes, but I don't see what that can have to do with it," she agreed, adding with a shudder, "Bennett is dead."
Kennedy had taken a piece of paper from the desk where he had put it away carefully. "Have you ever seen anything that looks like this?" he asked, handing her the paper.
Elaine looked at the plan carefully, as Kennedy and I scanned her face. She glanced up, her expression showing plainly the wonder she felt.
"Why, yes," she answered. "That looks like Aunt Tabby's fireplace in the living-room."
Kennedy said nothing for a moment. Then he seized his hat and coat.
"If you don't mind," he said, "we'll go back there with you."
"Mind?" she repeated. "Just what I had hoped you would do."
. . . . . . .
Wu Fang, the Chinese master mind, had arrived in New York.
Beside Wu, the inscrutable, Long Sin, astute though he was, was a mere pigmy--his slave, his advance agent, as it were, a tentacle sent out to discover the most promising outlet for the nefarious talents of his master.
New York did not know of the arrival of Wu Fang, the mysterious-- yet. But down in the secret recesses of Chinatown, in the ways that are devious and dark, the oriental crooks knew--and trembled.
Thus it happened that Long Sin was not permitted to enjoy even the foretaste of Bennett's spoils which he had forced from him after his weird transformation into his real self, the Clutching Hand, when the Chinaman had given him the poisoned draught that had put him into his long sleep.
He had obtained the paper showing where the treasure amassed by the Clutching Hand was hidden, but Wu Fang, his master, had come.
Wu had immediately established himself in the most sumptuous of apartments, hidden behind the squalid exterior of the ordinary tenement building in Chinatown.
The night following his arrival, Wu Fang was reclining on a divan, when his servant announced that Long Sin was at the door.
As Long Sin entered, it was evident that, cunning and shrewd though he was himself, Wu was indeed his master. He approached in fear and awe, cringing low.
"Have you brought the map with you?" asked Wu.
Long Sin bowed low again, and drew from under his coat the paper which he had obtained from Bennett. For a moment the two, master and slave in guile, bent over, closely studying it.
At one point in the map Long Sin's bony finger paused over a note which Bennett had made:
BEWARE POISONED GAS UPON OPENING COMPARTMENT.
"And you think you can trace it out?" asked Wu.
"Without a doubt," bowed Long Sin.
He went over to a bag near-by, which he had already sent up by another servant, and opened it. Inside was an oxygen helmet. He replaced it, after showing it to Wu.
"With the aid of the science of the white devil, we shall overcome the science of the white devil," purred Long Sin subtly.
Outside, Wu had already ordered a car to wait, and together the two drove off rapidly. Into the country, they sped, until at last they came to a lonely turn in a lonely road, somewhat removed from the section that was rapidly being built up as population reached out from the city, but on a single-tracked trolley line.
Long Sin alighted and disappeared with a parting word of instruction from Wu who remained in the car. The Chinaman carried with him the heavy bag with the oxygen helmet.
Along this interurban trolley the cars made only half-hourly trips at this time of night. Long Sin hurried down the road until he came to a trolley pole, then looked hastily at his watch. It was twenty minutes at least before the next car would pass.
Quickly, almost monkey-like, he climbed up the pole, carrying with him the end of a wire which he had taken from the bag.
Having thrown this over the feed wire, he slid quickly to the ground again. Then, carrying the other end of the wire in his rubber-gloved hands, he made his way through the underbrush, in and out, almost like the serpent he was, until he came to a passageway in the rough and uncleared hillside--a small opening formed by the rocks.
It was dark inside, but he did not hesitate to enter, carrying the wire and the bag with him.
. . . . . . .
It was nightfall before we arrived with Elaine at Aunt Tabby's. We