Hour of Enchantment

  CHAPTER XVI MAGIC FROM THE EAST

  Long after Florence had retired for the night Jeanne paced slowly backand forth in that magnificently furnished living room. Her bare feet sankdeep in the softest of Oriental rugs. Her filmy gown shimmered in themoonlight.

  Oblivious of all these surroundings, Jeanne was deep in thought. "Faith!"she murmured. "Faith! Faith in one's self, in one's associates, one'stasks. Faith in one's future. Faith in a kind Providence.

  "Faith. Faith. Ah, yes, I shall have faith."

  But the future? How strange the past had been! In her thoughtsthree-bladed knives, Buddhas and curious Oriental banners were strangelymixed with log cabins, a hearse drawn by black horses, and an organplaying itself.

  "Ah, yes, but the future!" she exclaimed. "There is always a to-morrow,to-morrow, and to-morrow. The grand, good, golden future! Who can beafraid?"

  At that she snapped out the light to stand looking down upon the vast,mysterious city until the distant chimes rang out the hour of two.

  "Ah!" she whispered. "My hour of enchantment!"

  For a moment she stood with bowed head as if in prayer. After that, forlong hours, this entrancing room knew her not. For long hours she waswrapped in sleep.

  It was well that she had faith in the future for to-morrow was to bringevents mysterious and terrifying.

  The clock was preparing to strike the hour of ten on the following nightbefore she ventured forth from her well-kept fortress, Lorena LeMar'sapartment. She had not forgotten her narrow escape from Miss LeMar'sfriends, the three rich and very badly spoiled play-boys. "Not that theywere likely to do me any real harm," she had confided to Florence. "Theywere out for one wild night and wished me to join them. And that for me?"She had made a face. "No! No! Not for me! Never!"

  That she might escape danger from this quarter, she had garbed herself inher ancient gypsy costume of bright red and had hidden herself inside along drab coat that came to her ankles.

  She realized that perfect safety was to be had only by remaining inside.But who wants perfect safety? Certainly not our little French girl.

  As a further precaution she descended a back stairway and left thebuilding from a little-used doorway.

  A half hour later she might have been found in the throng of joy hunterson the Midway of the great Fair.

  She had just emerged from a breath-taking crush when off to the right shecaught sight of a curious group gathered about some person beating adrum.

  _Tum_, _tum_, _tum_, the dull monotony of beats played upon her ears.

  Having joined the circle, she found herself looking at a verydark-skinned person with deep, piercing eyes. The man wore a long whiterobe. On his head was something resembling a Turkish towel twisted into alarge knot.

  Seated on the ground near this man were two others quite as dark as he.One was beating a curious sort of drum, the other squeaking away atsomething resembling a flute.

  "Now watch! I will make him go up! Up! He will climb the rope. He willdisappear utterly. Utterly!" The dark man's voice, coming as it did fromdeep down in his throat, suggested that he might be talking from a well.

  Upon hearing these words a small man stepped forward. The dark-faced onedrew a circle about this little man.

  At once the dark one began to whirl, then to dance.

  Jeanne had witnessed many strange dances, but none so weird as this. Theman whirled round and round until his robe seemed a winding sheet for aghost. He began revolving about in a circle. And inside that circle stoodthe little man who was, Jeanne discovered, dressed in a curious sort ofyellow gown.

  Faster and faster went the drum beats, squeak-squeak went the flute,wilder and wilder flew the dancer.

  "What can be going to happen?" the girl asked herself. In a vague sort ofway she wished herself somewhere else, but to her astonishment she foundherself unable to move.

  Then a discovery, that under normal circumstances must have fairly bowledher over, came to her as in a dream: The little man standing there in thecenter garbed in an orange gown was none other than the long-earedChinaman who had snatched the three-bladed knife from her hand.

  "You can get him. Get him now," a low voice seemed to whisper.

  "Ah, yes, but you won't," a stronger voice appeared to reach her. "You'regoing to see this thing through."

  And so she was.

  Of a sudden, without for an instant abandoning his mad whirl, thedark-faced conjurer from India, for such he was, produced a rope. Threetimes he lifted his hand high.

  "Now watch! Watch closely. He will go up." In his voice there was astrange hypnotic cadence.

  Like a thing shot from a gun, the rope rose straight in the air and, inso far as Jeanne's eyes told her the truth, remained there standing onair.

  The next instant a figure all in orange began passing up that rope. Up,up a yard, two yards, three, four, five. Up, up until the darknessappeared to stretch out black-robed arms to receive him.

  Then of a sudden the dark-faced one ceased whirling. The drum gave forthone more loud boom, the flute one more squeak, and all was still.

  With a sigh that was all but a whisper, Jeanne took one long, fullbreath.

  She closed her eyes for an instant, then opened them.

  To her astonishment she saw no dark-faced one in a white robe. Themusicians, too, were gone.

  "And the Chinaman!" she exclaimed aloud. "He has vanished also!"

  "What has happened?" It was Erik Nord, the man from China, who spoke toher. He had just come up. "You must have seen a ghost."

  "No. I--I saw a Chinaman go up a rope that was fastened to nothing butair."

  "There was no rope," Erik Nord laughed, "at least not in air, and noChinaman."

  "Oh, yes! I saw him!"

  "Well, perhaps. But he did not go up the rope.

  "That man in the white robe," he explained, "was India's cleverestconjurer. With his weird music and wild whirling he cast a spell overyou. You saw what he wished you to see. Perhaps you were hypnotized. Whocan say?"

  "But that Chinaman!" Jeanne murmured. "He was--was--"

  She was about to tell the story of the three-bladed knife. Thinkingbetter of it, she made some commonplace remark, then bade this chanceacquaintance good-night as he hurried away to fill an engagement.

  It is little wonder that, after such a mystifying experience as this,Jeanne should straightway walk into a trap. This is exactly what she did.