through what from its
damp and musty smell might have been a tunnel or cellar. Presently I
heard the opening of a heavy door, and in a moment I was thrown roughly
upon a bench, and my pockets were systematically searched. My captors
evidently were not looking for money for the only things they took from
me were my keys. After this they left me, huddled up in a corner of the
bench, afraid to cry out or make a move in any direction.

The room in which I now found myself was as silent as the tomb, and yet,
from some subtle instinct, I felt that it was lighted brightly, and that
there were others in it besides myself. I could feel that it was warm,
and through the folds of the bag about my head came the acrid,
half-sweet smell of opium or Chinese incense, or both. I realized at
once that I was in the hands of some of Li Min's friends, and no doubt
the note which purported to come from McQuade had been merely a decoy.
How, I wondered, did they know my address? Possibly they had followed my
cab from the station. I recollected now with vividness the interview I
had witnessed, the afternoon before, between Li Min and some fellow
countryman of his at the gateway in the hedge back of The Oaks. No doubt
the crafty Oriental had in some way kept his confederates in London
fully posted as to both my movements and those of Sergeant McQuade. What
on earth they could want with me I was unable to imagine. I reached out
softly with my right hand--I had not been bound--and touched a wall,
hung with heavy embroidered satin. The bench upon which I sat was of
hard polished wood. I reached up quickly, loosed the cord which held the
bag tightly about my neck, and, with a swift motion, lifted it from my
head.

The sight I beheld astounded me. I was in a long, low room, the bench
upon which I sat being at the extreme end of it. The walls were hung
from end to end with bright-colored satin, wonderfully embroidered with
birds, flowers, dragons and strange Chinese characters. The floor was of
wood, dark, and polished with the walking of many soft-shod feet. Facing
me at the far end of the room was a great red-and-gold wooden screen,
carved and lacquered, and representing some mysterious Chinese figures,
whether gods or demons I could not tell. In the center of this screen
was an opening, a sort of altar, brightly lighted by a large number of
wax candles within which hung a representation of the god Buddha,
marvelously embroidered upon dull red sat