The Pagan Madonna - Page 22/141

He knew something about art, something about music, something about

languages; but he could not write. He was a fair navigator, but not fair

enough for a paying job. He could take an automobile engine apart and

reassemble it with skill, but any chauffeur could do that.

"Hadn't we better go into the parlour?" he heard Jane asking as they

passed out.

"We'll be alone there. It will be easier for you to resist temptation, I

suppose, if there isn't any audience. Audiences are nuisances. Men have

killed each other because they feared the crowd might mistake common sense

for the yellow streak."

Instantly the thought leaped into the girl's mind: Supposing such an event

lay back of this strange silence about his home and his people? She

recalled the ruthless ferocity with which he had broken up a street fight

between American and Japanese soldiers one afternoon in Vladivostok.

Supposing he had killed someone? But she had to repudiate this theory. No

officer in the United States Army could cover up anything like that.

"Come to the parlour," she said to Ling Foo, who was smiling and

kotowing.

Ling Foo picked up his blackwood box. Inwardly he was not at all pleased

at the prospect of having an outsider witness the little business

transaction he had in mind. Obliquely he studied the bronze mask. There

was no eagerness, no curiosity, no indifference. It struck Ling Foo that

there was something Oriental in this officer's repose. But five hundred

gold! Five hundred dollars in American gold--for a string of glass beads!

He set the blackwood box on a stand, opened it, and spread out jade

earrings, rings, fobs, bracelets, strings. The girl's eagerness caused

Ling Foo to sigh with relief. It would be easy.

"I warned you that I should not buy anything," said Jane, ruefully. "But

even if I had the money I would not buy this kind of a jade necklace. I

should want apple-green."

"Ah!" said Ling Foo, shocked with delight. "Perhaps we can make a bargain.

You have those glass beads I sold you this morning?"

"Yes, I am wearing them."

Jane took off her mink-fur collaret, which was sadly worn.

Ling Foo's hand went into his box again. From a piece of cotton cloth he

drew forth a necklace of apple-green jade, almost perfect.

"Oh, the lovely thing!" Jane seized the necklace. "To possess something

like this! Isn't it glorious, captain?"

"Let me see it." Dennison inspected the necklace carefully. "It is

genuine. Where did you get this?"