The Magic Curtain Part 18

"Crooks!" he muttered. "All crooks out here!"

At that, after picking his way across the breakwater, he took to the stretches of sand and soon disappeared.

When, later that same day, Pet.i.te Jeanne started away, bent on the joyous business of returning a lost cameo to a dear old lady, she expected to come upon no fresh mystery.

"Certainly," she said to Florence, who, because of her work, could not accompany her, "in the bright light of day one experiences no thrills."

Surprise came to her all the same.

She had reached the very street crossing at which she was to alight before she realized that the address the little old lady had given was in Chinatown.

"Surprise number one," she murmured. "A white lady living in Chinatown. I can't be wrong, for just over there is the temple where I saw the magic curtain." If other evidence were lacking, she had only to glance at the pedestrians on the street. Nine out of every ten were Chinese.

For a moment she stood quite still upon the curb. Perhaps her experience on that other occasion had inspired an unwarranted fear.

"For shame!" She stamped her small foot. "This is broad day! Why be afraid?"

Surprise number two came to her upon arriving at the gate of the place she sought. No dingy tenement this. The cutest little house, set at the back of a tiny square of green gra.s.s, flanked a curious rock garden where water sparkled. The whole affair seemed to have been lifted quite complete from some Chinese fairy book.

"It's the wrong address." Her spirits drooped a little.

But no. One bang at the gong that hung just outside the door, and the little old lady herself was peeping through a narrow crack.

"Oh! It is you!" she exclaimed, throwing the door wide. "And you have my cameo!"

"Yes," Jeanne smiled, "I have your cameo."

Because she was French, Jeanne was not at all disturbed by the smothering caress she received from the old lady of this most curious house.

The next moment she was inside the house and sinking deep in a great heap of silky, downy pillows.

"But, my friend," she exclaimed, as soon as she had caught her breath after a glance about the room where only Oriental objects, dragons, curious lanterns, silk banners, and thick mats were to be found, "this is Chinatown, and you are not Oriental!"

"No, my child. I am not." The little lady's eyes sparkled. "But for many years my father was Consul to China. I lived with him and came to know the Chinese people. I learned to love them for their gentleness, their simplicity, their kindness. They loved me too a little, I guess, for after my father died and I came to America, some rich Chinese merchants prepared this little house for me. And here I live.

"Oh, yes," she sighed contentedly, "I do some translating for them and other little things, but I do not have a worry. They provide for me.

"But this!" She pressed the cameo to her lips. "This comes from another time, the long lost, beautiful past when I was a child with my father in Venice. That is why I prize it so. Can you blame me?"

"No! No!" The little French girl's tone was deeply earnest. "I cannot. I, too, have lived long in Europe. France, my own beautiful France, was my childhood home.

"But tell me!" Her tone took on an excited note. "If you know so much of these mysterious Chinese, you can help me. Will you help me? Will you explain something?"

"If I can, my child. Gladly!"

"A few days ago," the little French girl leaned forward eagerly, "I saw the most astonishing curtain. It burned, but was not consumed, like the burning bush."

"You saw that?" It seemed that the little lady's eyes would pop from her head. "You saw that? Where?"

"Over yonder." Jeanne waved a hand. "In that Chinese temple."

"I--did not--know it--was--here." The little lady spoke very slowly.

"Then you have seen it!" In her eagerness Jeanne gripped the arms of her chair hard. "Tell me! What is it? How is it done? Could one borrow it?"

"Borrow it? My child, you do not know what you are asking!

"But you--" She lowered her voice to a shrill whisper. "How can you have seen it?"

Quite excitedly and with many a gesture, the little French girl told of her visit to the Chinese temple on that rainy afternoon.

"Oh, my child!" The little lady was all but in tears as she finished, tears of excitement and joy. "My dear child! You cannot know what you have done, nor how fortunate you are that you escaped unharmed."

"But this is America, not China!" Jeanne's tone showed her amazement.

"True, my child. But every great American city is many cities in one. On the streets you are safe. When you pry into the secrets of other people, that is quite another matter."

"Secrets!"

"The Chinese people seem to be simple, kindly, harmless folks. So they are, on the street. But in their private dealings they are the most secretive people in the world.

"That temple you visited!" It was her turn to lean far forward. "That is more than a temple. It is a place of business, a chamber of commerce and the meeting place of the most powerful secret society the Chinese people have ever known, the Hop Sing Tong."

"And that meeting, the magic curtain--" Jeanne's eyes went wide.

"That was beyond doubt a secret meeting of the Tong. You came uninvited.

Because of the darkness you escaped. You may thank Providence for that!

But never, never do that again!"

"Then," Jeanne's tone was full of regret, "then I may never see the magic curtain again."

"O, I wouldn't say that." The little lady smiled blandly. "Seeing the magic curtain and attending the meeting of a secret society are two different matters. The Chinese people are very kind to me. Some of the richest Chinese merchants--"

"Oh! Do you think you could arrange it? Do you think I might see it, two or three friends and I?"

"It might be arranged."

"Will you try?"

"I will do my best."

"And if it can be, will you let me know?" Jeanne rose to go.

"I will let you know."

As Jeanne left the room, she found herself walking in a daze.