CHAPTER XIII. A CHANDU PARTY
From the restaurant at which she had had supper with Sir Lucien, Ritaproceeded to Duke Street. Alighting from Pyne's car at the door, theywent up to the flat of the organizer of the opium party--Mr. CyrusKilfane. One other guest was already present--a slender, fair woman, whowas introduced by the American as Mollie Gretna, but whose weakly prettyface Rita recognized as that of a notorious society divorcee, foremostin the van of every new craze, a past-mistress of the smartest vices.
Kilfane had sallow, expressionless features and drooping, light-coloredeyes. His straw-hued hair, brushed back from a sloping brow, hung lanklydown upon his coat-collar. Long familiarity with China's ruling vice andcontact with those who practiced it had brought about that mysteriousphysical alteration--apparently reflecting a mental change--so oftento be seen in one who has consorted with Chinamen. Even the light eyesseemed to have grown slightly oblique; the voice, the unimpassionedgreeting, were those of a son of Cathay. He carried himself with a stoopand had a queer, shuffling gait.
"Ah, my dear daughter," he murmured in a solemnly facetious manner, "howglad I am to welcome you to our poppy circle."
He slowly turned his half-closed eyes in Pyne's direction, and slowlyturned them back again.
"Do you seek forgetfulness of old joys?" he asked. "This is my own caseand Pyne's. Or do you, as Mollie does, seek new joys--youth's eternalquest?"
Rita laughed with a careless abandon which belonged to that part of hercharacter veiled from the outer world.
"I think I agree with Miss Gretna," she said lightly. "There is not somuch happiness in life that I want to forget the little I have had."
"Happiness," murmured Kilfane. "There is no real happiness. Happiness issmoke. Let us smoke."
"I am curious, but half afraid," declared Rita. "I have heard that opiumsometimes has no other effect than to make one frightfully ill."
"Oh, my dear!" cried Miss Gretna, with a foolish giggling laugh, "youwill love it! Such fascinating dreams! Such delightful adventures!"
"Other drugs," drawled Sir Lucien, "merely stimulate one's normal mentalactivities. Chandu is a key to another life. Cocaine, for instanceenhances our capacity for work. It is only a heretic like De Quincey whoprostitutes the magic gum to such base purposes. Chandu is misunderstoodin Europe; in Asia it is the companion of the aesthete's leisure."
"But surely," said Rita, "one pipe of opium will not produce all thesewonders."
"Some people never experience them at all," interrupted Miss Gretna."The great idea is to get into a comfortable position, and just resignyourself--let yourself go. Oh, it's heavenly!"
Cyrus Kilfane turned his dull eyes in Rita's direction.
"A question of temperament and adaptability," he murmured. "De Quincey,Pyne"--slowly turning towards the baronet--"is didactic, of course; buthis Confessions may be true, nevertheless. He forgets, you see, that hepossessed an unusual constitution, and the temperament of a Norwegianherring. He forgets, too, that he was a laudanum drinker, not an opiumsmoker. Now you, my daughter"--the lustreless eyes again sought Rita'sflushed face--"are vivid--intensely vital. If you can succeed inresigning yourself to the hypnosis induced your experiences will bedelightful. Trust your Uncle Cy."
Leaving Rita chatting with Miss Gretna, Kilfane took Pyne aside,offering him a cigarette from an ornate, jewelled case.
"Hello," said the baronet, "can you still get these?"
"With the utmost difficulty," murmured Kilfane, returning the case tohis pocket. "Lola charges me five guineas a hundred for them, and onlysupplies them as a favor. I shall be glad to get back home, Pyne. Theright stuff is the wrong price in London."
Sir Lucien laughed sardonically, lighting Kilfane's cigarette and thenhis own.
"I find it so myself," he said. "Everything except opium is to be had atKazmah's, and nothing except opium interests me."
"He supplies me with cocaine," murmured the comedian. "His figure worksout, as nearly as I can estimate it, at 10s 7 1/2d. a grain. I saw himabout it yesterday afternoon, pointing out to the brown guy that as thewholesale price is roughly 2 1/4d., I regarded his margin of profit assomewhat broad."
"Indeed!"
"The first time I had ever seen him, Pyne. I brought an introductionfrom Dr. Silver, of New York, and Kazmah supplied me withoutquestion--at a price."
"You always saw Rashid?"
"Yes. If there were other visitors I waited. But yesterday I made apersonal appointment with Kazmah. He pretended to think I had come tohave a dream interpreted. He is clever, Pyne. He never moved a musclethroughout the interview. But finally he assured me that all thereceivers in England had amalgamated, and that the price he chargedrepresented a very narrow margin of profit. Of course he is a liar. Heis making a fortune. Do you know him personally?"
"No," replied Sir Lucien, "outside his Bond Street home of mystery he isunknown. A clever man, as you say. You obtain your opium from Lola?"
"Yes. Kazmah sent her to me. She keeps me on ridiculously low rations,and if I had not brought my own outfit I don't think she would havesold me one. Of course, her game is beating up clients for the Limehousedive."
"You have visited 'The House of a Hundred Raptures'?"
"Many times, at week-ends. Opium, like wine, is better enjoyed incompany."
"Does she post you the opium?"
"Oh, no; my man goes to Limehouse for it. Ah! here she is."
A woman came in, carrying a brown leather attache case. She had left herhat and coat in the hall, and wore a smart blue serge skirt and a whiteblouse. She was not tall, but she possessed a remarkably beautifulfigure which the cut of her garments was not intended to disguise, andher height was appreciably increased by a pair of suede shoes having themost wonderful heels which Rita ever remembered to have seen worn on oroff the stage. They seemed to make her small feet appear smaller, andlent to her slender ankles an exaggerated frontal curve.
Her hair was of that true, glossy black which suggests the blue sheen ofraven's plumage, and her thickly fringed eyes were dark and southern asher hair. She had full, voluptuous lips, and a bold self-assurance. Inthe swift, calculating glance which she cast about the room there wassomething greedy and evil; and when it rested upon Rita Dresden's daintybeauty to the evil greed was added cruelty.
"Another little sister, dear Lola," murmured Kilfane. "Of course, youknow who it is? This, my daughter," turning the sleepy glance towardsRita, "is our officiating priestess, Mrs. Sin."
The woman so strangely named revealed her gleaming teeth in a swift,unpleasant smile, then her nostrils dilated and she glanced about hersuspiciously.
"Someone smokes the chandu cigarettes," she said, speaking in a low tonewhich, nevertheless, failed to disguise her harsh voice, and with a verymarked accent.
"I am the offender, dear Lola," said Kilfane, dreamily waving hiscigarette towards her. "I have managed to make the last hundred spinout. You have brought me a new supply?"
"Oh no, indeed," replied Mrs. Sin, tossing her head in a manner oddlyreminiscent of a once famous Spanish dancer. "Next Tuesday you get somemore. Ah! it is no good! You talk and talk and it cannot alter anything.Until they come I cannot give them to you."
"But it appears to me," murmured Kilfane, "that the supply is alwaysgrowing less."
"Of course. The best goes all to Edinburgh now. I have only three sticksof Yezd left of all my stock."
"But the cigarettes."
"Are from Buenos Ayres? Yes. But Buenos Ayres must get the opium beforewe get the cigarettes, eh? Five cases come to London on Tuesday, Cy. Beof good courage, my dear."
She patted the sallow cheek of the American with her jewelled fingers,and turned aside, glancing about her.
"Yes," murmured Kilfane. "We are all present, Lola. I have had the roomprepared. Come, my children, let us enter the poppy portico."
He opened a door and stood aside, waving one thin yellow hand betweenthe first two fingers of which smouldered the drugged cigarette. Led byMrs. Si
n the company filed into an apartment evidently intended fora drawing-room, but which had been hastily transformed into an opiumdivan.
Tables, chairs, and other items of furniture had been stacked againstone of the walls and the floor spread with rugs, skins, and numeroussilk cushions. A gas fire was alight, but before it had been placed anornate Japanese screen whereon birds of dazzling plumage hovered amidthe leaves of gilded palm trees. In the centre of the room stood a smallcard-table, and upon it were a large brass tray and an ivory pedestalexquisitely carved in the form of a nude figure having one arm upraised.The figure supported a lamp, the light of which was subdued by abarrel-shaped shade of Chinese workmanship.
Mollie Gretna giggled hysterically.
"Make yourself comfortable, dear," she cried to Rita, dropping down upona heap of cushions stacked in a recess beside the fireplace. "I am goingto take off my shoes. The last time, Cyrus, when I woke up my feet werequite numb."
"You should come down to my place," said Mrs. Sin, setting the leathercase on the little card-table beside the lamp. "You have there your ownlittle room and silken sheets to lie in, and it is quiet--so quiet."
"Oh!" cried Mollie Gretna, "I must come! But I daren't go alone. Willyou come with me, dear?" turning to Rita.
"I don't know," was the reply. "I may not like opium."
"But if you do--and I know you will?"
"Why," said Rita, glancing rapidly at Pyne, "I suppose it would be anovel experience."
"Let me arrange it for you," came the harsh voice of Mrs. Sin. "Lucywill drive you both down--won't you, my dear?" The shadowed eyes glancedaside at Sir Lucien Pyne.
"Certainly," he replied. "I am always at the ladies' service."
Rita Dresden settled herself luxuriously into a nest of silk and fur inanother corner of the room, regarding the baronet coquettishly throughher half-lowered lashes.
"I won't go unless it is my party, Lucy," she said. "You must let mepay."
"A detail," murmured Pyne, crossing and standing beside her.
Interest now became centred upon the preparations being made by Mrs.Sin. From the attache case she took out a lacquered box, silken-linedlike a jewel-casket. It contained four singular-looking pipes, the partsof which she began to fit together. The first and largest of these hada thick bamboo stem, an amber mouthpiece, and a tiny, disproportionatebowl of brass. The second was much smaller and was of some dark,highly-polished wood, mounted with silver conceived in an ornate Chinesedesign representing a long-tailed lizard. The mouthpiece was of jade.The third and fourth pipes were yet smaller, a perfectly matched pair infigured ivory of exquisite workmanship, delicately gold-mounted.
"These for the ladies," said Mrs. Sin, holding up the pair."You"--glancing at Kilfane--"have got your own pipe, I know."
She laid them upon the tray, and now took out of the case a littlecopper lamp, a smaller lacquered box and a silver spatula, her jewelledfingers handling the queer implements with a familiarity bred of habit.
"What a strange woman!" whispered Rita to Pyne. "Is she an oriental?"
"Cuban-Jewess," he replied in a low voice.
Mrs. Sin carefully lighted the lamp, which burned with a short, bluishflame, and, opening the lacquered box, she dipped the spatula intothe thick gummy substance which it contained and twisted the littleinstrument round and round between her fingers, presently withdrawing itwith a globule of chandu, about the size of a bean, adhering to the end.She glanced aside at Kilfane.
"Chinese way, eh?" she said.
She began to twirl the prepared opium above the flame of the lamp. Fromit a slight, sickly smelling vapor arose. No one spoke, but allwatched her closely; and Rita was conscious of a growing, pleasurableexcitement. When by evaporation the chandu had become reduced to thesize of a small pea, and a vague spirituous blue flame began to danceround the end of the spatula, Mrs. Sin pressed it adroitly into the tinybowl of one of the ivory pipes, having first held the bowl inverted fora moment over the lamp. She turned to Rita.
"The guest of the evening," she said. "Do not be afraid. Inhale--oh, sogentle--and blow the smoke from the nostrils. You know how to smoke?"
"The same as a cigarette?" asked Rita excitedly, as Mrs. Sin bent overher.
"The same, but very, very gentle."
Rita took the pipe and raised the mouthpiece to the lips.