The House of a Thousand Lanterns

I

The truth was brought home to me in a horribly disturbing manner.

The next day when I was drinking my afternoon tea in the sitting room, Jason entered the room.

He looked pleased to see me and came and sat beside me. He was being his protective self. He was very excited because the Feast of the Dragon was drawing near and Joliffe was planning to take us down to the waterfront where we would have a good view of the procession.

He chattered away excitedly and he asked if he could have a cup of my tea.

I poured it out for him and he gulped it down. He had had fish he told me, which was very salty. He drank two cups of the tea.

That night my son was ill.

Lottie came and stood by my bed. She looked fragile and very lovely with her hair falling over her shoulders and her eyes wide and frightened.

“It is Jason. He is calling out strange things…”

I ran as fast as I could to his room and there was my son, his face very pale, his hair damp about his head and his eyes wild.

“He has nightmare,” said Lottie.

I took his hot hand and said: “It’s all right, Jason. I’m here.”

That soothed him. He nodded and lay still.

Joliffe came in.

“I’ll send for the doctor,” he said.

We sat by Jason’s bed—Joliffe on one side, myself on the other.

A terrible fear was with us that Jason was going to die. I was aware of Joliffe’s anguish which matched my own. This was our beloved son and we feared for him.

Jason seemed aware that we were both there. When Joliffe had got up to greet the doctor he stirred uneasily.

“It’s all right, old chap,” said Joliffe, and Jason was relaxed.

Dr. Phillips was reassuring. “Nothing serious,” he said. “Something he has eaten most likely.”

“Could it have this effect?” I asked.

“It could have all sorts of effects. I’ll give him an emetic and if that’s all it is he’ll probably be all right tomorrow—although perhaps a little weak.”

I stayed with him all night—so did Joliffe. He seemed to be comforted while we were there and in a few hours had fallen into a deep sleep.

Strangely enough in the morning there was scarcely any effect of the previous night’s indisposition. He was tired as the doctor had said he would be and I made him stay in bed throughout the day. Joliffe came and they played mah-jongg together.

As I watched their heads bent over the board I was so grateful that Jason was well and that we were together.

But later I began to reason with myself.

What had happened to Jason? Something he had eaten. The doctor’s words kept coming into my mind.

And then suddenly, I remembered. He had come to the sitting room.

He had drunk my tea.

Could it really be that Jason had drunk some poison which had been intended for me?

My son had been in danger and now I had looked this fear right in the face. It had been knocking at the door of my mind for a long time and I had refused to let it in.

Now it was there, and there was no turning away from it.

I had been ill—I who had never been ill in my life before. I had been listless when I had been noted for my vitality; I had had bad dreams, evil dreams, I who had previously been wont to put my head on my pillow and drift into deep and peaceful sleep.

And the reason: Someone was tampering with my food or drink. And when Jason had unexpectedly taken tea which was meant for me he had been ill.

I felt as though a light had suddenly shone in an evil place. But at least I could now see the evil when before I had been groping in the dark.

Someone was trying to poison me.

Who?

No. It couldn’t be! Why should it be? Because if I were dead he would have control of what was mine and held in trust for Jason. Jason was very young; it would be many years before he could control one of the biggest businesses in Hong Kong. But Joliffe could advise me now. Advise. What was the good of that to a man as forceful as he was? I was always there to give the final decision and I had Toby Grantham to back me up. If I were gone and he were sole guardian of Jason, he would have the final word. He would to all intents and purposes be master of Sylvester’s fortune.

I wouldn’t believe it. But what was the use of saying that when the thought had come into my mind?

The Feast of the Dragon was at hand. There were many dragon feasts. It seemed to me that the people were constantly trying to placate the beast or honor him. This was in his honor.

Jason, completely recovered, chattered excitedly.

“My father is going to take us in a rickshaw. We shall see it all. There are dragons who breathe fire.”

Lottie was pleased we were going to see the procession.

When she was helping me dress she said: “When you go away I go back to Chan Cho Lan.”

“When I go away. What do you mean, Lottie?”

She bowed her head and put on her humble look.

“I think you go away… sometime.”

“What gave you the idea?”

“You go to England perhaps.”

“You heard the doctor say that, I suppose.”

“All saying it,” she said.

“I hope you won’t go while I’m here, Lottie.”

She shook her head vigorously. “No leave,” she said.

“Well I’m glad of that,” I said.

“Chan Cho Lan say she may find union for me.”

“You mean marriage?”

She lowered her eyes and giggled.

“Well, Lottie,” I said, “that seems a good idea. Shall you like it?”

“If I have good joss, I like. Not easy to find rich man for me.” She looked sadly down at her feet.

“You mustn’t worry about them, Lottie. Your feet are much more beautiful as they are than they would be cramped and mutilated.”

She shook her head. “No high Chinese lady has peasant’s feet.”

I knew it was hopeless to try to convince her on that point.

She told me that she had been brought up and educated with the high-born ladies. She had helped to bandage their feet with wet bandages and to keep them bandaged until the toes shriveled and dropped off. She told me how the little girls of six used to cry with the pain when the bandages dried and tightened. But in time they walked like the swaying of the willow and good matches were made for them.

“I used to think, Lottie,” I said, “that you would be with me forever. That was selfish of me. Of course you want a life of your own.”

She looked at me with mournful eyes. “Life very sad sometime,” she said.

“Well, we’ll always be friends, won’t we? I shall come and see you when you marry. I shall give presents to your children.”

She giggled but I thought she was a little sad.

“Hard to find husband,” she said. “Only half Chinese and big feet.”

I drew her to me and kissed her.

“You are as one of the family, Lottie dear,” I said. “I think of you as my own daughter.”

“But not daughter,” she said, still sad.

She was merry though when we rode out in rickshaws to see the procession.

Jason sat with me and Joliffe and it was wonderful to see him jumping up and down with excitement. It seemed a long way from the night when I had feared he was going to die.

It was dark—the only time for such processions, for so much depended on the lighting. The sound of gongs mingled with the beat of drums. They sounded a warning note and always seemed ominous to me. There were lanterns, as always on such occasions, and they were of all colors, many of them with revolving figures inside.

Held aloft were flags on which were depicted dragons breathing fire. It was the dragons though which made up the procession. There were small ones and large ones—some held high like banners and others moving along on the ground. These were dragged along by men dressed as dragons and there were some men and women who made up other beasts—several of them to one dragon which appeared to breathe fire and shouted warnings as it trundled along.

The most attractive spectacle was that of two litters which were held high above the dragons and contained a girl apiece—two little creatures so lovely that it would have been difficult to match their beauty. They wore lotus flowers in their long black hair and one had a silk gown of delicate lilac color, the other was in pink.

Lottie called to me from the next rickshaw. “You see… you see.”

I nodded.

“The girls,” she told me, “are from Chan Cho Lan’s.”

I said to Joliffe: “Poor little things, what will their lives be?”

“Very pleasant, I imagine.”

“I believe they will be sold.”

“To a man who can afford to keep them and will give them the life of ease which they have been brought up to expect.”

“And when he is tired of them?”

“He will keep them. He will not let them want. That would be to lose face.”

“I’m sorry for them.”

Joliffe said: “When you are in a foreign country you must adjust your ideas to those of that country.”

“I still say poor children.”

I started. One of the participants in the procession had come very close.

It was a man in a red robe and over his face was a mask.

I felt my heart begin to beat uncomfortably. I had seen that costume before—or something so similar that it might be a replica.

As he looked up at me I shrank back into my seat.

Joliffe said: “It’s all right. Only part of the revelry.”

“What a hideous mask,” I said.

“Oh that,” said Joliffe. “They call it the Mask of Death.”

I had been well for some days. I had given up drinking tea since Jason’s illness. I was certain now that what damage had been done had come through the tea.

It was a horrible realization. What should I do? I asked myself. If someone was trying to poison me through the tea and that someone realized that I had discovered this, would not the medium be changed? Would they not try something else?

I was in acute danger. I must turn to somebody. To whom? To my husband?

I shivered. There were times when I laughed my suspicions to scorn. That was when I was with him. It was only when he was not there and I looked facts in the face that I said to myself: He had the motive.

How is it possible to love someone and fear him at the same time? How is it possible to be so intimate and not to know the innermost thoughts of the other? We were lovers; our passion had not abated; ours was an intensely physical relationship. Yet in my heart the haunting suspicion persisted. Someone is trying to harm me, to kill me perhaps, but first to render me helpless, useless, to undermine my health. So that when I die no one is very surprised. And if this was indeed Joliffe how could he play the lover so wholeheartedly, so sincerely and devotedly.

Perhaps our need of each other was a thing apart—complete in itself. Perhaps our bodily union was quite separate from that of our minds. Our attraction in the first place I suppose had been a physical one, for my part at least it had been what is called love at first sight and that happens before one knows the other as an individual. Had our love remained on that level all the time? Was it indeed a fact that I did not know Joliffe any more than he knew me? It must have been so for I could suspect him of unimaginable horror. And he… could he really be capable of it?

Sometimes these theories seemed quite absurd. But at others they were rational.

And now that I was feeling better they remained with me, in fact were intensified. I had told myself that it was because I was sick in body that my thoughts had been sick too. My fevered imagination had built up a situation which could not possibly exist.

But I was better and the stronger I grew the more convinced I was that I was in acute danger.

The old Jane was back in command. Jane with two feet on the ground—logical Jane who liked to look life straight between the eyes.

And what she saw was this: Someone is trying to harm you, perhaps to kill you. And the reason could only be because your death will give that one something that he wants.

Joliffe on your death becomes the arbiter of a great fortune. But Joliffe loves you, at least he says he does. He was not too scrupulous as to how he discovered trade secrets. Remember his prowling in Sylvester’s Treasure Room? He was married to Bella and told you nothing of this. Bella came back and you parted and then Bella died. He lied to you about the manner of her dying. You married him and changed Sylvester’s instructions that Adam should hold his fortune in trust for Jason. And then you began to be ill.

The case is black against him except for one thing: he is your husband and he loves you. He says he does a hundred times a week; he acts as though he does; at times there is a perfect accord between you and when he is not there life loses its savor.

It is not Joliffe. I won’t believe it is Joliffe. It isn’t possible.

It is someone else.

There is Adam. Adam, of the stern integrity. And what has he to gain? He does not know that the will has been changed and that it is Joliffe now who will take over. There would be no motive… if Adam knew. But Adam does not know.

How had you felt about Adam when you first knew him? There was something repellent about him. You disliked him. A cold man, you thought; but that changed. He wanted to marry you. He didn’t say so but you sensed it. And if it had not been that you had loved Joliffe would you have considered Adam?

And now you are considering Adam. He was in the house when Sylvester died. Joliffe was not. But Adam does not live in the house now. No, but he is a frequent caller. And how did Sylvester die? It all seemed natural then… an aging man who had had a bad accident and gradually faded away, going into a decline until he died. And Adam had been in the house. But I could not believe that Adam was a murderer.

Surely Adam would have guessed that I would not allow anyone but Jason’s own father to be his guardian. Yes, he certainly would; but he would also believe that Sylvester’s wishes that he should be in control of the business until Jason was of age should be respected.

And Joliffe? I had made my will. If I died Joliffe would be in control.

Whichever way I looked it came back to Joliffe.

Each day I awoke to a sense of impending danger. I wished that I could have confided in someone, but who was there?

Lottie was no help. I loved the girl but it was so difficult for us to understand each other. I wished that I had a woman friend. There was Elspeth Grantham but she was scarcely that and I knew she disapproved of Joliffe if for no other reason than that I had married him instead of Toby.

It was indicative of my relationship with Toby that he was the one to whom I came nearest to confiding.

One day when we had finished our business he said to me: “You are better since the doctor’s visit.”

“Yes.” I hesitated.

He looked at me earnestly and I felt a wave of affection for this calm self-effacing man, who was genuinely anxious about me.

“Sometimes,” he said, “it is difficult to adjust oneself to a new environment.”

“I have been here for some time now, Toby” I said. “I think I have adjusted myself.”

“Then…”

My defenses weakened. I had to talk to someone and there were few I trusted as I trusted Toby.

He was waiting and I felt the words rushing out.

“I think something I’d taken was perhaps making me ill.”

“Something you’d taken!” He repeated the words and there was incredulity in his voice.

“Jason was ill,” I said. “He had drunk my tea. It seemed strange that he should have been ill after that. He had nightmares… and I am sure that his symptoms were the same as those which have been affecting me.”

“Do you mean that there was something in the tea?”

I looked at him.

“It seems the last thing,” he said, “unless…”

He did not need to say any more.

“I have always felt that strange things can happen in The House of a Thousand Lanterns,” I went on. “The house affects me in an odd way. There are so many servants and even now I find it difficult to tell them all apart. Sometimes I think I am resented, Toby. Perhaps Sylvester was resented too.”

“Who would resent him?”

I shrugged my shoulders. “You would think me fanciful if I said The House, wouldn’t you?”

“Yes,” he answered. His eyes were serious. “If it was the tea then you are in danger. For if you no longer take tea might something else not be used?”

“I can’t really believe it, Toby. I think I’ve been run down and imagining things.”

“And Jason?”

“Children have these sudden upsets.”

“You’ve talked this over with Joliffe?”

I shook my head.

I could see that he was puzzled. “It’s a lot of imagination,” I said quickly. “I feel ashamed of my thoughts. I haven’t told anyone.”

I knew I had made some sort of a confession. My relationship with Joliffe was not what it should have been between husband and wife. If a woman feared she was being threatened wouldn’t the first person she turned to be her husband?

“Don’t treat this lightly, Jane,” he said.

“No. I’ll be careful. But I’m sure there’s a logical explanation. I’ve been run down as they say. I’ve had bad dreams and even walked in my sleep. It happens to lots of people. All one needs is a tonic and one returns to normal.”

“If something had been put in your tea,” said Toby, “who could have done this? You don’t think it could be one of the servants who has some crazy notion that you as a woman have no right to own the house? It’s possible that one of them could get such an idea. I know how their minds work. Who would profit from your death, Jane? There may be someone who would. It sounds mad. I wouldn’t say this to anyone else. But you’ve got to be watchful. You’ve got to protect yourself. If you died Adam would get control of the business in trust for Jason. Adam could want that. Business is not good with him. I do know that. I think it would be very advantageous for him if he could get his hands on your affairs, which, of course, he would do in the event of…”

My heart was beating fast. I said: “I don’t believe it. I don’t believe it for an instant.”

“Of course not. I’m sorry I mentioned it. It was just that I was looking for a reason…”

He trailed off miserably. He was worried about me. He would have been more so I know had I told him that I had brought about a change and that it was Joliffe who would now have control, Joliffe who would have the motive.

He said that Elspeth had mentioned the fact that she hadn’t seen me for a long time. Would I call in to see her?

I said I would go now. Elspeth was a stern and practical woman; it was impossible to indulge in flights of fancy in her presence. I felt she would have a sobering effect.

“Ee,” she said when we arrived, “so you’ve come for a cup of tea.”

I said it would be delightful and she set about brewing it.

She had baked a batch of scones and Scotch baps. She made the tea at the table with her spirit kettle.

I drank it with relish.

“I wouldn’t have any of the servants making it,” said Elspeth. “There’s only one way to make a good cup of tea and nobody seems to be able to do it here.”

“Jane was saying the same,” added Toby. “She likes to make her own tea. Have you got that spirit lamp you brought with you from Edinburgh? She could have that and make a cup when she fancied it.”

“She’s welcome,” said Elspeth. “I don’t use it now. But they never will give it time to infuse. Only the Scots and mayhap the English…” she added grudgingly, “seem to know how to make a cup of tea.”

She said she had heard I had not been well. She pursed her lips in the familiar manner. She was suggesting of course that I must expect ailments if I was so unable to take care of myself.

While we were having tea a visitor arrived. To my dismay and Elspeth’s scarcely concealed annoyance it was Lilian Lang.

“I knew it was teatime,” cried Lilian, “to tell the truth I couldn’t resist coming. Those heavenly scones! And the shortbreads. What a cook you are, Miss Grantham, and isn’t Toby the luckiest man to be so well looked after.”

“I doubt he thinks so,” said Elspeth, at which Toby assured her that he did.

She shook her head, half pleased and still resentful towards both her visitors—to me for refusing her brother and to Lilian for coming to visit her.

She poured out the tea and Toby carried a cup to Lilian.

“Delicious!” said Lilian. “Just like home. All this ceremony here makes me laugh. Jumbo is always telling me I mustn’t laugh. They don’t like it. But that tea ceremony really is too funny. When all you have to do is heat the pot and pour boiling water on the leaves. But what ones they are for ceremony! I think the women are rather pretty though, don’t you? Now Mr. Grantham, you are not going to deny that.”

“They have a certain charm,” agreed Toby.

“You know the secret of this charm, don’t you?” She was smiling archly at me. “It’s the complete subservience to the male. They live to serve the man. They are brought up with that purpose in mind. Look at their poor little feet. I must say they do sway along rather gracefully. But fancy deliberately maiming oneself just to please some man.”

“I suppose we have to accept the fact that it’s an ancient custom,” I said. “It’s an indication of their social status.”

“Of course. Things are different here. There is the mysterious Chan Cho Lan.”

Elspeth pursed her lips. She did not like the way the conversation was going.

“I’ll give you the recipe for my shortbreads if you like,” she said to Lilian.

“You’re an angel. Jumbo loves them. I don’t know whether they’re good for him though. He’s putting on weight at an alarming rate.”

“Good Scottish shortbread never hurt anyone,” said Elspeth sharply.

“Nor good old haggis, eh! You must give me the recipe for that, too. What was I saying before we got onto this fascinating subject of food? Oh, Chan Cho Lan. Have you met her, Mrs. Milner?”

I said I had. She was certainly a remarkable woman.

“Beautiful in a way… if you like that sort of thing,” said Lilian. She looked sly. “And lots of men do… Europeans, I mean, as well as Chinese. So feminine, so graceful… and with those inbred notions about the superiority of the masculine sex.”

“When I met her she gave me the impression of having a high opinion of her own,” I said.

“Of herself no doubt,” retorted Lilian. “Then she sees herself as a liaison between male and female.”

“I’ll give you the recipe for the haggis if you like,” said Elspeth.

“That’s good of you, my dear Miss Grantham. Poor Jumbo. He’s in for a treat. I wonder what my Chinese cook will make of it? At home we would probably call her a procuress.”

Elspeth said: “I never heard such a thing.”

“It depends on whether you call a spade a spade,” went on the imperturbable Lilian. “You know she has her school for young ladies. She has them when they are babies. Parents of unwanted children send them to her… if they are girls, and heaven knows in this place if a poor child happens to be a girl it’s not wanted.”

“I’ve seen them perilously wandering about the sampans,” I said.

“You can be sure if a child falls overboard and drowns that child is certain to be a girl,” said Lilian. “But she takes them in, teaches them to sing and embroider and some she makes into dancing girls to entertain her guests, clients perhaps one should say. It’s quite a lucrative business I imagine.”

“I suppose she cares for the girls from their babyhood.”

“She does. It’s not many years. Girls of twelve are ready to go into service as they say. It’s all very honorable here and she’s known as a matchmaker. Of course quite a lot of our gentlemen visit the establishment.” She leaned towards me and lowered her voice confidentially. “We have to give them a little license, don’t we.”

“License!” cried Elspeth. “What talk is this!”

“Dear Miss Grantham. Your heart is in the Highlands but this is not Bonnie Scotland.”

“I’m a Lowlander,” said Elspeth tartly, “and I’m well aware of the location.”

“Manners are different. These mandarins with whom our husbands do their business for instance. They live with a wife and their concubines all in one establishment… and it’s all very amicable. The wife is happy to be Supreme Lady and the concubines are happy if they are visited by the master now and then…”

Elspeth was growing pinker every minute. She didn’t like this conversation at all. Nor did I, for I sensed that it was full of innuendos and that she was trying to tell me something. I knew what.

Joliffe had visited Chan Cho Lan’s establishment. I thought: Are people talking about Joliffe? This woman would see that if there was anything disreputable to be hinted about anyone, she would be at hand to do the hinting.

“Our husbands see the way these mandarins live,” went on Lilian. “It’s natural that they should attempt to try that way of life, European style of course. I can’t see Jumbo bringing his concubines into our house. Can you see Joliffe?”

“No,” I said. “It would not be permitted.”

She seemed to be convulsed with secret laughter.

“But we mustn’t grudge them their little visits, must we?”

“I don’t know,” I said calmly, for she was looking straight at me. “I think it would depend on the reason.”

“Men,” said Lilian waving a hand as though to include the whole sex. “They will always concoct a plausible excuse for anything, won’t they?”

I said: “I think I should be getting back.”

“Can I drop you in my rickshaw?” asked Lilian.

“Thanks, I have my own.”

“I’ll go back with you,” said Toby. “You’ll have Elspeth’s lamp to take.”

When we were in the rickshaw he said: “That’s a pernicious woman.”

“She’s always hinting at something. She makes everyone so uncomfortable.”

“I think,” said Toby succinctly, “that that is the object of the exercise. Elspeth will give her short shrift.”

I was sure of it.

We did not speak very much after that but when we reached the house and we said goodbye, he held my hand firmly. He said: “Any time you want anything send for me… I’ll be waiting.”

I thought what a pleasant comforting phrase that was as I went into the house. “I’ll be waiting.”

I was feeling better. I would pretend to take tea and when I was alone I never drank it. If there were visitors I did because I knew then that the tea would be untainted. I used to lock myself in my room and make myself tea on Elspeth’s spirit lamp. When I had used the lamp I would lock it away in one of my cupboards. This little subterfuge in a way stimulated me. Or perhaps my natural vitality was returning. I had tried to make my mind a blank. I didn’t want to suspect anyone, but I had to make every effort to find out what was happening and whether in truth someone was threatening my life.

What seemed so odd was the method chosen. I was not to be killed outright. I was to be made weak and then everyone was to believe that I suffered from hallucinations. There was a method in it for when I was very weak and had been so for some time my death would surprise no one.

This was what had happened to Sylvester. I was certain of that now.

He had had no idea. He had accepted the weakening of his body as a natural effect of the sedentary life he was forced to lead.

“Sylvester,” I murmured. “What happened? I wish you could come back and tell me.”

Whenever possible I directed the rickshaw man to take me in such a way that we passed Chan Cho Lan’s house.

Sometimes I would say, “Slow down. We’re nearly there.” They were not suspicious because during my journey I often asked them to stop or slow down. I was so sorry for them, running as they did with their burdens. Sometimes I looked into their wizened faces and I seemed to see a certain hopelessness there. It was as though they accepted the fact that this was their lot in life. They were meek and uncomplaining, but looked so tired sometimes; and I had heard that the life of a rickshaw man was not a long one.

They were faintly amused by my concern, I think. Whether they were grateful or not, I could not say. They thought me odd. I think perhaps I lost face with many of the servants by allowing myself to consider these menials. I didn’t care. I was happy to lose as much face as they wished in such a cause.

It was on one of these occasions when I again saw Joliffe going into Chan Cho Lan’s house.

When I reached The House of a Thousand Lanterns I went to my room and asked myself why Joliffe called there.

Chan Cho Lan and Joliffe. How long? I wondered. Lilian Lang knew. This was what she was hinting. She had told me as plainly as she dared that Joliffe kept a Chinese mistress and that mistress might well be the inscrutable fascinating Chan Cho Lan herself.

There was so much that I did not know. It seemed that often outsiders knew more of one’s affairs than one did oneself. A man’s secret life was often secret only to his wife. Others quickly learned about it, whispered about it and if they were kindly, kept it from the one it most concerned and if they were malicious they betrayed it.

Now I was building up the picture. Could it possibly be that Joliffe wished to marry Chan Cho Lan? That was not possible. He could not marry anyone because he was married to me. But if I were not here…

I tried to push such thoughts out of my head.

Joliffe came in.

“Jane, my darling, I wondered if you’d be in.”

I was caught up in an embrace. He smelled mainly of a mixture of jasmine and frangipani.

I did not have to ask myself where I had smelled that before.

“Do you often go to Chan Cho Lan’s house, Joliffe?” I asked.

“I have been.”

“Recently?”

“Yes recently.”

“Do you have business with her? Is she interested in some collector’s piece?”

“She is always interested in collectors’ pieces.”

“So that is why you went to see her… recently?”

“There is another matter, Jane.”

My heart began to beat faster. Was he going to tell me now? Was he going to explain to me, confess that he had a mistress, that there was much I had to learn about life here, that I had to adjust my views…

That I would never accept, I thought fiercely.

“It’s Lottie,” he said.

“Lottie! What has she to do with this?”

“Everything,” he said. “Chan Cho Lan is going to find a husband for her.”

“Lottie mentioned something of this to me.”

“She should marry. She is now of an age.”

“Is it marriage… or a liaison?”

“Marriage.”

“Lottie seemed to think that because her feet had not been mutilated this would be impossible.”

“It would probably be so with someone who is entirely Chinese. The husband Chan Cho Lan has in mind for her is half English half Chinese like Lottie herself.”

“So the reason you visit Chan Cho Lan is to arrange this?”

“Yes.”

“I can smell the perfume of her house on your clothes.”

“What a nose you have, my darling.”

“You make me sound like the wolf in Red Riding Hood. All the better I should say to smell out your secrets.”

He kissed me lightly on the nose. “What a mercy that I have none from you,” he said.

“I should have thought that Lottie’s matrimonial affairs should be discussed with me rather than you.”

“Oh, you don’t know the Chinese. It’s the men who arrange these matters.”

He was so plausible. When I was near him I believed him. How could I ever have thought that he would deceive me?

I was always swamped by my love for him, by my need of him; for that tremendous physical bond which held us together.

I would believe him now that we were together. Later perhaps in the night when I awoke suddenly and looked towards the door for fear that I should see the Mask of Death, the doubts would come back again.

Someone in this house had threatened me.

I would find out who, and in order to do so I must not allow myself to be deluded.

I had always known that Joliffe liked Lottie and she him, although I think she had been disappointed when I married. Not exactly disappointed but fearful. She knew of course that Jason was his son and that something had gone wrong. She probably put all this down to the inscrutable ways of the foreign devils.

Now I began to notice certain glances between them. A fondness in his expression when he spoke to her or of her; of Lottie I could not be sure. Those giggles which indicate tragedy or amusement had always bemused me.

I knew that she often visited Chan Cho Lan. This had been a regular feature of her life since she came to us, so there was nothing unusual about that. I asked her how she felt about this union which was being arranged for her.

“Very happy,” she said dolefully.

“You don’t sound it, Lottie.”

“Shall wait and see,” she said.

“You should be dancing with joy,” I said.

“No.” She shook her head. “Nothing all good.”

“Have you seen this man?”

“Yes, I have.”

“He is young… handsome?”

She nodded.

I put my arms about her. “Is it that you don’t want to leave us?”

She laid her forehead against me in a helpless gesture which I found appealing.

“We’ll see you often, Lottie,” I said. “I shall ask you and your husband to visit us. To come to tea…”

She turned away giggling.

II

I was now feeling as strong as I ever had. My energy—both physical and mental—had returned. I now faced my suspicions squarely. Something mysterious was going on. Someone had attempted if not to kill me to harm me and when I thought of what had happened to Sylvester I believed that the same method was being used on me. Sylvester had died—whether as a result of these methods or not I could not be entirely sure, but if he had been poisoned however mildly this could not have done him any good.

He had had violent dreams. He had seen the Mask of Death.

And so had I.

I had been awakened from my sleep by it. I now believed that I had been awake when I saw it, and if this was the case then I must have seen someone.

I was going to discover.

The next day I feigned listlessness and retired to my bed. I spent two hours there watching, ready to leap from my bed at the moment the apparition appeared. Nothing happened. The next day I tried it again.

Just as I was beginning to despair I fancied I heard a faint movement. I was tense, watchful, my eyes on the door. Then I saw it move… quietly, slowly. The face was in the doorway glaring at me from the gloom.

I leaped out of bed. The door shut but I was there in a matter of seconds.

I opened the door. There was nothing in the corridor. I ran to the stairs. I was just in time to see a flash of red on the curve of the staircase.

I started down… but as I got to the curve the staircase was empty.

I went on down. I was in the hall and there was no sign of an apparition.

Still, I had proved something. It did not vanish as such an apparition might be expected to. It had to run to get away.

Somewhere down here someone who had masqueraded as this thing must be hiding. I was going to search until I found out.

There were four doors through which it could have passed. I hesitated. Then I opened one door and went in.

The room appeared to be empty. I looked in the alcove, behind the draperies. Nothing.

Hastily I went from room to room. All were empty and silent.

I stood in the hall and once more the silence of the house enveloped me. Apprehension swept over me.

I knew that I would be doubly vulnerable now. Someone was threatening me, perhaps threatening my life. This person was a murderer. He had intended to kill me slowly presumably to divert suspicion. But now I had betrayed the fact that I was suspicious. I had been lying in wait and had just not been quick enough to seize the dragon to pull off his disguise and expose him.

I had shown that I was ready, waiting.

The lanterns were lighted in several of the rooms. It was dark now. The house took on a different character with the fading light. At such times it seemed very quiet indeed, when a distant sound would startle one.

I had promised myself that by day I would examine those four rooms which led from the hall. It must have been in one of these that someone masquerading under the dragon’s robe had entered.

The lanterns were lighted as they always were in these lower rooms, but even so the light was dim. I looked round the room. Where could the masquerader have gone to? Could he have hidden in one room while I looked into another? How could he have slipped away? He had his costume to dispose of.

These were the rooms with the paneled walls. The lantern threw a dim light on the paneling which was not what one would have expected to find in a Chinese house.

I examined the paneling. There had been something like it at Roland’s Croft. And then suddenly as I stood there my heart leaped in excitement, for protruding from the panel was a tiny fragment of red cloth.

I stooped and examined it. I tried to pull at it but I could not budge it. Then I saw that it was wedged in the wall.

My heart began to beat very fast. I ran to the door and closed it.

I went over to that fragment of protruding cloth.

I should call someone and tell them what I had found.

Tell whom? Joliffe. But to tell Joliffe… I was horrified, for I was ranging myself against Joliffe. I had to face all the facts if I were going to discover what was going on. I had to stand outside my love for him. I had to be reasonable. I had to listen to logic.

I went to the wall. I took the material in my hand. There was very little of it. I tried to pull it out.

As I did so the gap in the paneling widened.

There was enough space now for me to get my fingers in and I pulled.

Very slowly the panel was drawn back and I was looking straight into that evil face.

I drew back gasping. The thing seemed to sway towards me.

Then I saw that it was a robe with a hood and on this hood was painted the face which had frightened me. The Mask of Death—luminous paint that shone in the dark. An evil expression which lingered long in the mind.

“You idiot!” I said aloud. “It’s a robe of some sort, the sort they wear for processions. Somebody who knew of this secret place has been using it.”

I forced myself to go right up to that yawning cavity to look the Mask of Death straight in the face. I touched the red cloth. That was all it was. And it was hung on a nail with the face showing so that a quick glance made it seem like a living image.

Inside that cavity was a musty smell. As far as I could see it was like a large cupboard. I could have stepped inside but I was not going to.

Nothing, I thought, would induce me. I had a horrible feeling that if I did the doors would close on me forever.

I ran out of the room calling: “Joliffe…”

There was no answer. This was the hour when the house was quiet.

I returned to the paneled room and waited. I was not going to leave it until someone else had seen that open cavity. I had a notion that if I did it would be closed and there would be no sign of it. They would think I was having hallucinations again.

I was glad when Adam called.

I brought him straight into the room. He stared at the cavity in amazement.

“How did you discover it? To think it’s been there all this time!”

He stepped into the cavity and I followed him.

It was about six feet square.

“A sort of cupboard,” said Adam disappointed.

“Look at the lantern up there,” he said. “Quite a fine one.”

“That makes six hundred and one,” I said.

“Ah yes, we never got farther than that. This is an exciting discovery, Jane.”

“You had no idea that it was here?”

“If I had I would have explored it.”

“I think someone in the house knew.”

“Why?”

“Because I saw a piece of cloth protruding. It was not there a few days ago. That’s how I discovered it. Someone may have gone in hastily and come out hastily too, leaving a piece of the cloth of one of these garments betraying the secret.”

“Who?” asked Adam in a bewildered way.

I looked at him steadily; his face seemed expressionless in the dim light from the lantern.

“It’s interesting,” he said. “There may be other such cubbyholes in the house. These paneled rooms would be ideal for hiding such places. I wonder if there are.”

His face was impassive. One never knew what Adam was thinking. Watching him I asked myself: Did he know before? Was he the one who took the robe out and used it to frighten me? Was it Adam of whom I had caught a glimpse when I ran out of my bedroom?

“We’ll have to have a thorough examination of these lower rooms,” he said. “I think that’s Joliffe.”

It was. He called him.

“Look what I’ve discovered,” I cried.

“Good God!” cried Joliffe. “A secret panel. What’s in there? Nothing!”

I watched him closely as he stepped inside. How suspicious I was! What were his feelings? How much of his surprise was pretense?

“Another of them,” he said with a grimace. “What a find! And you discovered it, clever Jane!”

And I looked from one to the other and I thought: One of you perhaps is putting up a game of pretense. One of you perhaps knew of the existence of this place. One of you took the robe and came to my room because you wanted to delude me into thinking I was ill enough to imagine I saw what was not there. Hallucinations… the kind of visions people have when they are very sick or going mad.

I am afraid, I thought. I am threatened. But I am stronger than I was because now I know that I am in danger. I know that I must be watchful because someone who wants to be rid of me is under this roof.

Love is the betrayer and I loved Joliffe. Perhaps he was trying to kill me. I was not sure. Perhaps he wanted to share my fortune with someone else. I could entertain such fears; and yet I loved him.

I said to myself: I must watch him. I must discover why he really goes so much to Chan Cho Lan. I must understand whether he is trying to poison me.

Yet when he was near me I forgot everything but the intense joy of loving and being loved by Joliffe. My love and my fears were like two separate emotions. I couldn’t understand myself, but when we were alone together I trusted him completely.

We lay in our bed and it was early morning and not yet light. I had awakened suddenly and this was, I think, because Joliffe was awake too.

“Jane,” he said quietly. “What is it?”

“Joliffe,” I replied, and the words seemed to rush out involuntarily, “I have such fears… They come to me sometimes…”

“You should tell me. You should always tell me.”

“Sylvester… how did he die?”

“You know he was ailing for a long time. That accident was the beginning of the end for him.”

“He was well enough in England. He had an injury but it was not the sort of thing that kills. Yet he came here… and suddenly he began to deteriorate.”

“It’s like that sometimes.”

“He was listless; he had hallucinations; he walked in his sleep. The same thing happened to me.”

“People walk in their sleep when they’re run down.”

“They can be ill because they are being given something to make them.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that I sometimes think someone in this house is trying to kill me.”

“Jane! You’ve been dreaming.”

“It has been a long dream, going on for weeks. As soon as I saw that piece of red material in the paneling I knew. It was obvious. Someone was trying to frighten me, to undermine my health—in the way Sylvester’s was undermined—so that in time I could pass quietly away and it would all seem inevitable.”

He held me against him. I could hear his heart beating fast.

“You haven’t been well. You’ve been working yourself up to a state of anxiety about something that doesn’t exist. You saw the mask in the procession. It caught your imagination. You dreamed of it.”

“I dreamed of it before I saw it in the procession.”

“Darling Jane, it’s in every procession. You’ve seen it right from the first.”

“But I saw someone in it. It was in the secret cupboard. That was how I discovered the cupboard was there, because it was protruding.”

“Oh Jane, who would do such a thing?”

“It seems very important to me to find out. There’s so much I don’t know.”

“Understand this, Jane. I am here. No one shall hurt you while I’m here. This is not like you. You were always so bold, so brave. And you have me beside you.”

So strange it was that there in the intimacy of our bed I believed him, I trusted him absolutely.

“You are close now,” I said. “Sometimes you seem far away.”

“You’ve been suspicious about things, haven’t you? It started with Bella. I didn’t tell the whole truth, did I, and you didn’t trust me after that. I didn’t want to tell you that she had killed herself. I knew how it would affect you. You’re very sensitive, Jane. You brood; you look back; you remember.”

“Don’t you remember, Joliffe?”

“I remember what is good to remember and try to forget what is unpleasant.”

“That’s true enough.”

“It’s weak, selfish probably. But life is for enjoying, not for brooding. We had our tragedy. For all those years we were apart. I lost you and my son and now I have you back. I knew how you’d feel about Bella if you were aware of the whole unpleasant truth. You’d have some guilt feeling and imagine all sorts of things that were not accurate. So I didn’t tell you all that happened.”

“You said she died of her illness.”

“She did. It was because she knew she was going to have a painful end and that it was imminent, that she killed herself. That was dying of her illness. It was her decision, Jane, and only she had a right to make it. I believe it occurred to you that I might have pushed her out of the window. There was that nightmare of yours. I feel limp with horror every time I think of it. What might have happened on that night if I hadn’t found you?”

“How did you find me, Joliffe?”

“I heard the sound of footsteps, as I told you. I came up to the room. I saw you there and Lottie had come up too. Because she had heard you…”

“So if you hadn’t come, Lottie would have been there to save me?”

“She is so fragile and you seemed so determined. I doubt if she could have held you back. I have never ceased to be thankful that I heard you, Jane.”

“I have often thought of it… So you came up and found Lottie there with me?”

He kissed me. “Don’t talk of it, Jane. Even now it terrifies me.”

I believed him then—such was the magic of our intimacy.

“Tell me about Chan Cho Lan,” I said.

“Chan Cho Lan!” He hesitated for a moment.

I went on: “You visit her… frequently. I have seen you going in and coming out of her house. I have been watchful.”

“Jane!”

“It was wrong, wasn’t it? Spying you might say. That’s an ugly way of putting it. I had to, Joliffe. I had to find out what is going on.”

“I should have told you. I am the one who has been in the wrong. Yes, I go to her house. I have been frequently. It’s about Lottie.”

“You are planning Lottie’s future?”

“There’s a reason for it. I should have told you before. It’s ancient history now and involves others… but I should have told you. Chan Cho Lan as you know was one of the court concubines.”

“I know of this,” I said.

“My father was fascinated by her. She became his mistress. There was a child. That child was Lottie.”

“So Lottie is your half sister then!”

“Yes. That is why I want a good marriage arranged for her. When Chan Cho Lan would have exposed the child to the streets where she would have shared the fate of many other girl children, my father determined to save her. Because he feared his wife might become suspicious if he were concerned in the affair he induced Redmond to rescue her and give her into the care of Chan Cho Lan and to be her guardian. Chan Cho Lan would have lost face if she had had a child of her own that was only half Chinese, but if this child was rescued from the streets and she was implored and perhaps paid to rear it that would be acceptable. Redmond continued to look after Lottie’s interests when my father died. He would not allow her feet to be bound. Now you know the Story. Our family have always been on terms of friendship with Chan Cho Lan. I should have told you all this in the first place, of course, but it is a long ago secret and I did not want you to think our family too disreputable. I thought it was best forgotten. Adam knows this of course. That is why Lottie was brought to you.”

“Poor child, I felt drawn towards her from the first.”

“What happened is due to no fault of hers. I want her to make the best marriage possible. We shall provide her with a dowry and this will ensure that she makes a good marriage.”

“I wish you had told me,” I said. “I had visions of your going to your beautiful Chinese mistress who was tempting you away from me.”

He laughed and said: “No one would have the power to do that, Jane. I love you and I know the value of that love. Don’t ever think otherwise.”

How happy I was! How easy it was to slip into this pleasant euphoria.

How I laughed at myself in the velvety darkness, with Joliffe beside me.

But the doubts came back with the daylight.

Lottie was putting my linen into drawers.

I said to her: “I often think of that night when I walked in my sleep.”

She stood very still; she looked like a statue.

“Yes,” I went on, “I think of myself walking up to that room, to the window.”

“You ill,” said Lottie. “Better now.”

“You sleep lightly, Lottie.”

She looked blank as though she did not understand.

“I mean,” I went on, “you heard me.”

“I hear,” she answered.

“Did you see me leave my room?”

She shook her head.

“So you just heard.”

“Just heard,” she echoed.

“And when you came into the room I was there at the window?”

“And Mr. Joliffe is holding you back.”

“So… he was there before you?”

She nodded giggling.

“I always wanted to know,” I said faintly, “but didn’t want to think about it when I was ill. Now I’m better I feel curious. So he was there before you.”

“He there before,” she confirmed.

It was not what he had told me.

Oh God, I thought, what does it mean?

III

I went down to the Go-Down to see Toby. He took me into his private office and closed the door.

“Jane,” he said, before I could speak, “I feel very uneasy about you.”

“I feel very uneasy about myself,” I replied.

“I have been delving into books on Chinese drugs and medicines and I have found something I must show you.”

“Please do.”

“The book is at home. You must come and see it. But briefly there is an account of an old Chinese recipe. It contains opium and the juice of some rare poisonous plants. It was used centuries ago by some of the most efficient poisoners. It produces certain symptoms.”

“Yes?” I said faintly.

“The victim suffers first a listlessness, a lethargy. He is disturbed by dreams, hallucinations too. Shadows form into threatening shapes. While he is under the influence of this drug he will walk in his sleep. Gradually his health becomes undermined and he goes into what at home we would call a decline, until he eventually dies.”

“Sylvester…” I whispered.

“And… yourself?”

“It seems as if someone is trying to destroy me.”

“I’m afraid for you, Jane.”

“I did not suffer from hallucinations. I saw the figure on the stairs. I found the robe in which someone was dressing up.” I explained what happened.

“But you were in such a state as to believe it was a hallucination.”

“At first, yes. Then I walked in my sleep. If Joliffe had not been there…”

I paused. Why had Joliffe been there? Why should he say that Lottie had been there when he arrived and she say that she had come into the room to find him there with me? What did this discrepancy in their stories mean? I was fighting the suspicion that he had administered that Chinese poison, that he had led me in my drugged state up those stairs and was attempting to throw me from the window when Lottie appeared. It was absurd. He would not have wanted to have two wives who killed themselves by jumping out of windows! I was however known to be ailing. Perhaps the idea was that the fact that his first wife had died in this way would have preyed on my mind.

I would not accept such wild reasoning. I could not mention it even to Toby.

He said: “Look here, Jane. This is very serious I believe.”

“Who would do it, Toby?”

“Let’s consider. Sylvester died and left a vast business to you.”

“That would point to me then.”

“No. It was a surprise to us all that it was left to you. It would have been imagined that you would have had an income for life and the business would have gone to the family.”

“Adam and Joliffe…” I said.

“Joliffe was out of favor.”

Toby looked at me intently. “Someone wants you out of the way, Jane. I know Adam’s business is not good. And if you died he would take over, in trust for Jason. Jason is a child yet… there are many years ahead before he could come into his own…”

I blurted out: “Adam won’t take over. I have had that changed. Joliffe, my husband, will be in command if I died. He will hold everything in trust for our son.”

I saw the horror dawn in Toby’s eyes and I couldn’t bear it.

“Does Joliffe know?” he asked.

“Of course he knows,” I blustered. “We discussed it together. It seemed only right as Joliffe is Jason’s father that he should be his guardian.”

“Jane, you are in danger. We have to look at every possibility… however distressing, however remote it may seem.”

“Sylvester died but Joliffe was not there when that happened,” I said triumphantly.

Then horrible thoughts like mischievous imps danced through my mind. I remembered how he had bribed one of Sylvester’s clerks to let him know when I would be going to the Cheapside office. I heard Mrs. Couch’s voice coming to me over the years: “Servants… he can get round them. They’d go and jump in the lake if he told them to.”

Toby did not speak.

I found myself defending Joliffe as though I were a counsel for the defense. I went on: “Sylvester died in this way, after suffering the symptoms you mention. I’ve certainly been affected by those symptoms. And I’ve proved that it was in the tea. It’s someone in the house. It’s someone who was in the house when Sylvester was alive.”

Because he still did not speak I grew frantic. I knew the meaning for his silence. He suspected Joliffe.

Joliffe’s reputation would put him under suspicion. The wife who had died… mysteriously. The coroner’s censure. The visits to Chan Cho Lan.

I could picture Elspeth Grantham’s discussing the scandals with Toby rather triumphantly implying that I was now suffering for my folly.

I said: “Joliffe had been often to Chan Cho Lan’s lately because he has been arranging a marriage for Lottie. He had told me the truth about Lottie. She is his half sister. That is why he takes an interest in her and wants to see her happily settled.”

Toby continued to regard me sadly.

“What’s the matter?” I cried. “Why do you look like that?”

“It’s not true, Jane. Lottie is Redmond’s daughter. He had always been secretly proud of the fact. Chan Cho Lan was his mistress and this was known in some circles. He saved Lottie and was her guardian until his death. Then Adam took his place in looking after her. His father had asked him to do this. Adam has been arranging Lottie’s marriage.”

I felt as though the world was shaking under me. I was numbed. I would not believe what was staring me in the face.

Toby put a hand gently on my shoulder.

“You should not go back, Jane.”

“Not go back! Leave The House of a Thousand Lanterns. Leave my son.”

“You and he could stay with Elspeth.”

“Toby, you’ve gone mad.”

“I’m just looking at facts.”

“It’s not true,” I cried.

“Look at it calmly, Jane.”

But how could I look at it calmly? Joliffe… trying to kill me! I wouldn’t believe it.

“Elspeth will look after you. Go to Elspeth. Take Jason and go.”

“I am going back to the house,” I said. “I am going to talk to Joliffe.”

He shook his head. “That will do no good. He will make excuses. When you told me that you had changed Sylvester’s arrangement everything fell into place. Don’t you see, Jane… the motive…”

But I loved Joliffe. I would not look at the logic of Toby’s argument. I could only see the man I loved and would go on loving until I died.

“I’m going back,” I repeated firmly. “My son is in the house. I must go back for Jason.”

“I’ll come with you.”

“No. I’m going alone. I will get Jason and come back perhaps. I can talk about it… think about it more clearly when I know Jason is with me.”

He could see that I was determined.

I walked out to my rickshaw.

I returned to the house. I walked through the courtyard vaguely hearing the tinkle of the wind bells. How silent was the house! I stood in the hall, and momentarily I thought of the figure in the mask which must have sped down the stairs and into the paneled room. Someone who knew that secret cupboard existed… someone who had known the house since his boyhood. Someone had staged my hallucination. I heard Joliffe’s voice at the Feast of the Dragon: “That’s the Mask of Death.”

A slow lingering death. The safe kind of death. One went into a slow decline so that when the final hour came no questions were asked.

I should never have come to this house. There was warning in the silence, the alien quality, the wind bells and the enigmatic lanterns. Six hundred and one of them—and where are the others to make up the thousand?

Perhaps I should leave, take Jason with me and go to Elspeth. That would be running away from Joliffe. I had done that before. It was like an ugly pattern. Perhaps that was what it was meant to be.

I felt a sudden urgency to see my son. For if I were in danger what of him?

He was not there. I looked through the window. There was no sign of his kite in the sky. At this time he was usually in the schoolroom doing the lessons I had set for him. Lottie was generally with him. I went to the schoolroom, to find it empty.

And where was Lottie?

She had come into the schoolroom and was standing behind me. Her expression was impassive.

I said: “Where’s Jason? I expected to find you both here.”

“Jason not in house.”

“Then where is he?”

She bowed her head and was silent.

“Come,” I said impatiently, “I want to know where he is.”

“At Chan Cho Lan’s house.”

“Chan Cho Lan’s house! What is he doing there? Who took him?”

“I take.”

“Without my permission?”

“Chan Cho Lan say bring.”

“That’s no reason why you should take him without asking me first.”

“You not here.”

“What happened? Tell me.”

“Chan Cho Lan sent servant. Chin-ky wish to play with Jason. Send Jason.”

“Lottie,” I said, “we are going at once to Chan Cho Lan. We will bring Jason home. And don’t ever dare to take him there unless I say he may go.”

Lottie nodded.

We walked through the courtyards and across the grass to Chan Cho Lan’s house.

My heart was beating angrily. I hated the woman. How dared she send for my son in this arrogant fashion. I hated her because she was beautiful in her strange alien way and I believed that she was Joliffe’s mistress and Chin-ky was their son. No wonder Joliffe called often to see her. Horrible suspicions kept crowding into my mind. Did he want me dead so that he could marry Chan Cho Lan? That could not be so. And yet…

Jealousy and anger overcame all fear.

The pigtailed servants sprang up to open the gate and with Lottie close behind me, I went into the house.

I was taken straight to Chan Cho Lan. She was waiting for me. She looked exquisite in pale mauve silk, jewels gleaming in her black hair, her skin delicately tinted and perfumed.

“You bring,” she said to Lottie. “That good.”

“I have come for my son,” I said. “I did not give him permission to go out and I am surprised that he was brought here.”

“Your son,” she repeated smiling and nodded her head.

Lottie watched us breathlessly.

“Come,” said Chan Cho Lan. “I take you to your son.”

I said: “I know that he enjoys playing with your little boy. But I must impress on him that he is not to leave the house without my permission.”

“It is good of great lady to honor my miserable house,” said Chan Cho Lan. “Good of clever boy to fly his kite with my unworthy son.”

It was difficult to respond to such talk. I knew it was only custom and that she adored her son and thought him perfect. For all the custom in the world I wouldn’t pretend for a moment that my Jason was wretched and stupid.

So I merely nodded.

I followed her into a small room paneled like those lower rooms in The House of a Thousand Lanterns. She turned to smile over her shoulder and led the way to the panel. I was not altogether surprised when she touched a spring and the panel slid back.

“You look?” she said.

I was in a cupboard not unlike that in which I had found the costume. But leading from this were steps. She stepped daintily into the cupboard and started to descend the steps. Lottie and I followed.

We were in a room from which hung lighted lanterns. There must have been some fifteen of them. They threw shadows on the walls and showed us a narrow opening through which came the gleam of more lanterns.

Chan Cho Lan nodded to Lottie who went towards the opening.

“Chan Cho Lan wish me take you to Jason,” said Lottie.

“You know this place then, Lottie?” I asked.

She nodded. “Chan Cho Lan show me.”

I followed her as she led the way.

We walked some distance.

“What is Jason doing down here?” I demanded.

“He come to play with Chin-ky.”

I looked around. There was no sign of Chan Cho Lan.

We were in a passage with a wall on either side. It was cold and the light from the lanterns was dim.

“Where are we going?” I said. “Jason is not down here surely?”

“Chan Cho Lan say is.”

“Where are we?”

“We nearly under The House of a Thousand Lanterns.”

“The lanterns are here, Lottie. This is where the rest of the thousand are.”

She nodded. “Come,” she said.

We had come to a door. There was a grille in this door. Lottie opened it and we went inside. Numerous lanterns were lighted. It was like a temple. And there I saw the statue and I guessed at once that it was the great Kuan Yin. Her kindly eyes were studying me; she was of jade and gold and rose quartz. A glittering beautiful figure.

“It’s the Kuan Yin,” I said.

And before the goddess was a tomb—of marble and gold on the top of which was a marble recumbent figure.

I thought to myself: This is the secret of The House of a Thousand Lanterns. I looked up at the ornate ceiling on which were depicted the delights of the Paradise of Fō. There were seven trees on which jewels hung, seven bridges of pearl and figures in white robes.

Then I said: “But where is Jason?”

“Over there,” said Lottie.

I could see nothing but a long box on trestles.

“Lottie,” I said sharply, “tell me what this means.”

“Over there,” she said.

I went in the direction she indicated.

There was no sign of Jason.

I turned to Lottie. She was no longer there. The door had shut and I was alone.

“Where are you, Lottie?” I said. My voice sounded hollow.

Panic surged up in me. The kindly goddess seemed to look pityingly and I knew that this was what the house had been warning me of.

I went to the door through which we had come. There was no door handle. I pushed the door with all my might.

It did not respond.

I was shut in this strange place.

I knew then that I had been lured here. That Lottie had lured me here. Why? I asked myself.

“Let me out,” I called. “Lottie, where are you?”

There was no answer.

I turned and looked in panic about the place. A temple indeed—I noticed the beautiful mosaic floor; the tiled walls; it was a worthy setting for the tomb of a loved one, and presiding over it all was the goddess of tenderness, the goddess who never turned a deaf ear on cries of distress.

For what purpose had I been lured here?

I went to the tomb. There were Chinese characters on it in gold. I could not decipher all of them except that I recognized the word “love.”

Then suddenly I knew that I was being watched. I turned round. There was a shadow across the grille.

Chan Cho Lan was there; her face looked infinitely evil.

“You have not found son?” she said.

“He is not here.” My own fears were forgotten in those that I felt for Jason.

“You do not look,” she said. “Is here.”

“Oh God,” I cried. “Tell me where?”

“You search and will find.”

“Jason!” I cried shrilly: “Jason!”

My voice echoed in this chamber of death but there was no answer.

A terrible dread had come to me. I had seen the box on trestles and I had thought it was a coffin. I could not bear the thought. It was not possible.

I went to the box. I think I knew the utmost misery then for lying in the padded box, his face as white as the silk which lined it, looking so unlike himself in life was my son Jason.

I don’t know whether I cried out. I felt as if the world had collapsed about me. I could not imagine a greater calamity. I stood swaying looking down at the well-loved face.

Jason, my baby… my son… dead.

But why this senseless torture, this misery? What did it mean? “Jason,” I sobbed. “Jason speak to me…”

I bent over him. I touched his face. It was warm. “Jason!” I cried. “My dear child.”

Then I put my lips to his and joy of joys I could see the pulse in his temple. He was not dead then.

A voice said to me: “He not dead. I do not kill. My religion does not let me.”

I ran to the grille. “Chan Cho Lan,” I said, “tell me what this means. What have you done to my son?”

“He will wake up. In an hour he will wake.”

“You have brought him to this state…”

“Had to be. He very lively. Must get him here for when you come.”

“What do you want of me?”

“I want you dead… and your son dead, so that what is right may be done.”

“Listen, Chan Cho Lan, I want to get away from here. I will give you anything I have if you will let me get out of here with my son.”

“Cannot… too late.”

“What do you mean? Explain to me. I beg of you, Chan Cho Lan, tell me what you want.”

“You see altar behind statue of goddess. On it is two phials. You drink contents of one and son drinks other. You die.”

“So you want me to kill myself and my son?”

“It is best. You must die.”

“And what benefit will that bring you?”

“It will restore face to my ancestors. My grandfather great mandarin. Doctor save his life and he give him house, but first he builds beneath it tomb to beloved wife and gives her the great goddess to watch over her. He live in my house and visit tomb of beloved wife often. But you try to find secret and all foreign devils do. One day they might find. House should belong to rightful owner.”

“So you want the house. Why did you not explain this?”

“Chin-ky will have house. When you dead and boy dead, House will be Adam’s. Chin-ky Adam’s son so it is right he have it. Chin-ky marry Chinese woman and they live in House of Thousand Lanterns and ancestors will rest in peace.”

“Adam! I don’t believe it.”

“No. You believe he Joliffe son. Adam very clever. He hide much.”

“The house will not be Adam’s,” I said. “If I die it will be Joliffe’s.”

“Not true. Sylvester make will. Adam know.”

“It was changed. I changed it. Adam will not inherit it.”

“Not?” she said, for the moment taken aback.

“My husband will have what was mine,” I went on quickly.

She lifted her eyebrows. “If there is more to be done it shall be done,” she said.

So she would murder Joliffe too!

“And Lottie,” I said, “what part has she played in this?”

“Lottie my daughter. Adam father is her father.”

“You deceived my husband. You told him that his father was Lottie’s.”

“To bring him here. Yes. I want you to know he come here. Best I think. For future.”

“And you ordered Lottie to kill my first husband.”

“I do not talk with you but to tell you that you must kill yourself and your son.”

“Do you imagine no one will look for us?”

“They will find. In sea. You will be taken there and in time they find you…”

“You’re diabolical.”

“Not understand. Take draught. No pain. It will be over quick.”

She had gone and I was left there in that chamber.

I went to the coffin and lifted Jason out.

I carried him in my arms and sat down on the marble steps of the tomb.

Silence, and Jason and I in the light of the lanterns—four hundred in this chapel and the labyrinth which led to it—waiting for the miracle that would save us.

A certain relief had flooded over me because Joliffe was not involved.

And I thought. What will he do when he finds me gone?

I looked up. Over my head was The House of a Thousand Lanterns. I was immediately under it. Somewhere above me Joliffe might be. He might be asking: “Where is the mistress? Where is Jason?”

Oh Joliffe, I thought, forgive me for my doubts and, oh God, let me get out of here.

I laid Jason gently on the floor. He had been heavily drugged and I was glad in a way that he was not aware of what was happening.

I went to the altar; there stood the two deadly phials. So she had ordered Lottie to murder Sylvester that her own hands might not be stained; and I was to kill myself and my son that she might be guiltless of murder. When she learned that the will had been changed and that it was Joliffe who would inherit she saw this as yet another obstacle which fate had put in her way to test her and she would set about eliminating him.

The goddess’ eyes looked straight into mine. Kuan Yin who was supposed to listen to pleas for help. Never would she have heard any more urgent than mine.

I would not die. I would find some way out. But how? I had to save not only Jason and myself but Joliffe. I went to the door and pushed it with all my might. That was foolish. I could achieve nothing by that.

Oh Lottie, I thought desperately, how could you have been such a traitor? She it was who had tried to frighten me in the Mask of Death, Lottie the daughter of Redmond—not Magnus as Joliffe believed. Lottie was Adam’s half sister who had been saved from the terrors of the streets by her father. I saw now that Lottie had hoped I would marry Adam and then I suppose Chan Cho Lan believed that Adam would have had control over The House of a Thousand Lanterns. How strange that Adam should be so involved—Adam, the taciturn man who was father of Chin-ky. And how deeply was he concerned?

Poor Lottie, she would believe that she owed an eternal debt to her ancestors.

Would it really be that in twenty years’ time little Chin-ky would be installed with his wife in The House of a Thousand Lanterns as both Lottie and Chan Cho Lan believed the gods wished it to be?

I will give up the house, I promised the goddess. I will never ask for anything else but my life with my husband and child… if only I can get out of here.

I prayed: “Please, God, help me. And Kuan Yin, who is said to hear the pleas of the helpless, listen to me now.”

Jason stirred. The effects of the drug were passing. I was relieved and yet frightened. I did not want him to wake up in this place.

I called out: “Joliffe.”

My voice echoed about the tomb. They would never hear it overhead.

I thought of the ceremonies that would have gone on in the place right beneath us. The ceremony of the dead. I thought of the mandarin who had loved his wife and buried her here that he might visit her grave and mourn in secret.

I can’t die here, I thought. There is so much I have to live for. I must see Joliffe again. I must tell him of my hideous suspicions and ask him to forgive me. I will tell him that I love him… as he is. Whatever he has done in the past, whatever he does in the future, nothing can alter that. I would love him forever.

And what am I doing talking of loving forever with death staring me in the face.

It was difficult to assess the passing of time. Jason stirred and muttered something.

I bent over him. “It’s all right, Jason. I’m here. Your father will soon be with us.”

I was trying to calm myself, to prepare myself for the moment when he emerged from his drugged sleep. He must not be frightened.

“Joliffe,” I prayed, “come to me. I want a chance to tell you of what I have been thinking. I want to tell you how much I love you and always have loved you even when I believed you were trying to be rid of me. Could there be any greater proof of love than that?”

How quiet it was in the tomb! And how the mandarin must have loved his wife. I pictured his coming here to mourn for her.

And in this place, dedicated to love, I was to die.

Oh, Joliffe, you are just above me. Miss me. There may have been someone who saw me come here. Is it true that when a loved one is in danger there are certain premonitions? Your loved ones are in this tomb, Joliffe—your son and your wife.

Something, someone must lead you to us. Who? How?

Jason had stirred again. I took his hand and his fingers curled round my palm.

And if we drank the contents of the phials, what then? Painless sleep. And by night Chan Cho Lan’s servants would come and take our bodies. They would put them into sacks and throw them into the sea. We should never be heard of again. It would be one of the mysteries of this mysterious land. I could hear Lilian Lang talking of it at dinner parties, and eyes would be turned to Joliffe. His first wife had died violently; his second had disappeared.

Oh, Joliffe, I thought, you are in danger too.

Thoughts were chasing themselves round and round in my mind and the minutes were ticking past. How much more time would be given me?

At any moment a face would appear at the grille.

Footsteps! I went to the grille.

I could not believe it. I was dreaming. It could not be. How could Joliffe come to me here?

But it was not a dream. It was his face—taut and anxious and then suddenly so joyous that my heart was filled with happiness.

“Jane!” he shouted.

“Joliffe,” I answered.

The door swung open and he caught me in his arms.