spoke at length. His voice as a rule was agreeable, with a variety of tone, but now he spoke on one note. It was strangely unnatural. It gave Kitty the impression that he was speaking from a long way off. And all the time his eyes were directed to his plate, or the table, or to a picture on the wall. He would not meet hers. She realized that he could not bear to look at her.
"Shall we go upstairs?" he said when dinner was finished.
"If you like."
She rose and he held open the door for her. His eyes were cast down as she passed him. When they reached the sitting-room he took up the illustrated paper once more.
"Is this a new Sketch?
I don't think I've seen it."
"I don't know. I haven't noticed."
It had been lying about for a fortnight and she knew that he had looked it through and through. He took it and sat down. She lay again on the sofa and took her book. As a rule in the evening, when they were alone, they played coon-can* or patience. He was leaning back in an arm-chair, in a comfortable attitude, and his attention seemed absorbed by the illustration he was looking at. He did not turn the page. She tried to read, but she could not see the print before her eyes. The words were blurred. Her head began to ache violently. When would he speak?
They sat in silence for an hour. She gave up the pretence of reading, and letting her novel fall on her lap, gazed into space. She was afraid to make the smallest gesture or the smallest sound. He sat quite still, in that same easy attitude, and stared with those wide, immobile eyes of his at the picture. His stillness was strangely menacing. It gave Kitty the feeling of a wild beast prepared to spring.
When suddenly he stood up she started. She clenched her hands and she felt herself grow pale. Now!
"I have some work to do," he said in that quiet, toneless voice, his eyes averted. "If you don't mind I'll go into my study. I daresay you'll have gone to bed by the time I've finished."
"I am
rather tired to-night."
"Well, good night."
"Goodnight."
He left the room.
XIX
AS soon as she could next morning she rang Townsend up at his office:
"Yes, what is it?"
"I want to see you."
"My dear, I'm awfully busy. I'm a working man."
"It's very important. Can I come down to the office?"
"Oh, no, I wouldn't do that if I were you."
"Well, come here then."
"I can't possibly get away. What about this afternoon? And don't you think it would be better if I didn't come to your house?"
"I must see you at once."
There was a pause and she was afraid that she had been cut off.
"Are you there?" she asked anxiously.
"Yes, I was thinking. Has anything happened?"
"I can't tell you over the telephone."
There was another silence before he spoke again.
"Well, look here, I can manage to see you for ten minutes at one if that'll do. You'd better go to Ku-Chou's and I'll come along as soon as I can."
"The curio shop?" she asked in dismay.
"Well, we can't meet in the lounge at the Hong Kong Hotel very well," he answered.
She noticed a trace of irritation in his voice.
"Very well. I'll go to Ku-Chou's."
XX
SHE got out of her rickshaw in the Victoria Road and walked up the steep, narrow lane till she came to the shop. She lingered outside a moment as though her attention were attracted by the
bric-a-brac* which was displayed. But a boy who was standing there on the watch for customers, recognizing her at once, gave her a broad smile of connivance. He said something in Chinese to some one within and the master, a little, fat-faced man in a black gown, came out and greeted her. She walked in quickly.
"Mr. Townsend no come yet. You go top-side, yes?"
She went to the back of the shop and walked up the rickety, dark stairs. The Chinese followed her and unlocked the door that led into the bedroom. It was stuffy and there was an acrid smell of opium. She sat down on a sandalwood chest.
In a moment she heard a heavy step on the creaking stairs. Townsend came in and shut the door behind him. His face bore a sullen look, as he saw her it vanished, and he smiled in that charming way of his. He took her quickly in his arms and kissed