Dope

  CHAPTER XVII. THE BLACK SMOKE

  Up an uncarpeted stair Cyrus Kilfane led the party, and into a kind oflumber-room lighted by a tin oil lamp and filled to overflowing withheterogeneous and unsavory rubbish. Here were garments, male and female,no less than five dilapidated bowler hats, more tea-chests, brokenlamps, tattered fragments of cocoanut-matting, steel bed-laths andstraw mattresses, ruins of chairs--the whole diffusing an indescribablyunpleasant odor.

  Opening a cupboard door, Kilfane revealed a number of pendent, raggedgarments, and two more bowler hats. Holding the garments aside, hebanged upon the back of the cupboard--three blows, a pause, and then twoblows.

  Following a brief interval, during which even Mollie Gretna was heldsilent by the strangeness of the proceedings.

  "Who is it?" inquired a muffled voice.

  "Cy and the crowd," answered Kilfane.

  Thereupon ensued a grating noise, and hats and garments swung suddenlybackward, revealing a doorway in which Mrs. Sin stood framed. She worea Japanese kimona of embroidered green silk and a pair of green and goldbrocaded slippers which possessed higher heels than Rita remembered tohave seen even Mrs. Sin mounted upon before. Her ankles were bare, andit was impossible to determine in what manner she was clad beneath thekimona. Undoubtedly she had a certain dark beauty, of a bold, abandonedtype.

  "Come right in," she directed. "Mind your head, Lucy."

  The quartette filed through into a carpeted corridor, and Mrs. Sinreclosed the false back of the cupboard, which, viewed from the otherside, proved to be a door fitted into a recess in the corridor of theadjoining house. This recess ceased to exist when a second and heavierdoor was closed upon the first.

  "You know," murmured Kilfane, "old Sin Sin has his uses, Lola. Thosedoors are perfectly made."

  "Pooh!" scoffed the woman, with a flash of her dark eyes; "he is half aship's carpenter and half an ape!"

  She moved along the passage, her arm linked in that of Sir Lucien. Theothers followed, and:

  "Is she truly married to that dreadful Chinaman?" whispered MollieGretna.

  "Yes, I believe so," murmured Kilfane. "She is known as Mrs. Sin SinWa."

  "Oh!" Mollie's eyes opened widely. "I almost envy her! I have read thatChinamen tie their wives to beams in the roof and lash them with leatherthongs until they swoon. I could die for a man who lashed me withleather thongs. Englishmen are so ridiculously gentle to women."

  Opening a door on the left of the corridor, Mrs. Sin displayed a roomscreened off into three sections. One shaded lamp high up near theceiling served to light all the cubicles, which were heated by smallcharcoal stoves. These cubicles were identical in shape and appointment,each being draped with quaint Chinese tapestry and containing rugs, asilken divan, an armchair, and a low, Eastern table.

  "Choose for yourself," said Mrs. Sin, turning to Rita and Mollie Gretna."Nobody else come tonight. You two in this room, eh? Next door eachother for company."

  She withdrew, leaving the two girls together. Mollie clasped her handsecstatically.

  "Oh, my dear!" she said. "What do you think of it all?"

  "Well," confessed Rita, looking about her, "personally I feel rathernervous."

  "My dear!" cried Mollie. "I am simply quivering with delicious terror!"

  Rita became silent again, looking about her, and listening. The harshvoice of the Cuban-Jewess could be heard from a neighboring room, butotherwise a perfect stillness reigned in the house of Sin Sin Wa. Sheremembered that Mrs. Sin had said, "It is quiet--so quiet."

  "The idea of undressing and reclining on these divans in real orientalfashion," declared Mollie, giggling, "makes me feel that I am anodalisque already. I have dreamed that I was an odalisque, dear--aftersmoking, you know. It was heavenly. At least, I don't know that'heavenly' is quite the right word."

  And now that evil spirit of abandonment came to Rita--communicated toher, possibly, by her companion. Dread, together with a certain senseof moral reluctance, departed, and she began to enjoy the adventure atlast. It was as though something in the faintly perfumed atmosphere ofthe place had entered into her blood, driving out reserve and stiflingconscience.

  When Sir Lucien reappeared she ran to him excitedly, her charming faceflushed and her eyes sparkling.

  "Oh, Lucy," she cried, "how long will our things be? I'm keen to smoke!"

  His jaw hardened, and when he spoke it was with a drawl more marked thanusual.

  "Mareno will be here almost immediately," he answered.

  The tone constituted a rebuff, and Rita's coquetry deserted her, leavingher mortified and piqued. She stared at Pyne, biting her lip.

  "You don't like me tonight," she declared. "If I look ugly, it's yourfault; you told me to wear this horrid old costume!"

  He laughed in a forced, unnatural way.

  "You are quite well aware that you could never look otherwise thanmaddeningly beautiful," he said harshly. "Do you want me to recall thefact to you again that you are shortly to be Monte Irvin's wife--orshould you prefer me to remind you that you have declined to be mine?"

  Turning slowly, he walked away, but:

  "Oh, Lucy!" whispered Rita.

  He paused, looking back.

  "I know now why you didn't want me to come," she said. "I--I'm sorry."

  The hard look left Sir Lucien's face immediately and was replaced bya curious, indefinable expression, an expression which rarely appearedthere.

  "You only know half the reason," he replied softly.

  At that moment Mrs. Sin came in, followed by Mareno carrying twodressing-cases. Mollie Gretna had run off to Kilfane, and could beheard talking loudly in another room; but, called by Mrs. Sin, she nowreturned, wide-eyed with excitement.

  Mrs. Sin cast a lightning glance at Sir Lucien, and then addressed Rita.

  "Which of these three rooms you choose?" she asked, revealing her teethin one of those rapid smiles which were mirthless as the eternal smileof Sin Sin Wa.

  "Oh," said Rita hurriedly, "I don't know. Which do you want, Mollie?"

  "I love this end one!" cried Mollie. "It has cushions which simply reekof oriental voluptuousness and cruelty. It reminds me of a deliciousbook I have been reading called Musk, Hashish, and Blood."

  "Hashish!" said Mrs. Sin, and laughed harshly. "One night you shall eatthe hashish, and then--"

  She snapped her fingers, glancing from Rita to Pyne.

  "Oh, really? Is that a promise?" asked Mollie eagerly.

  "No, no!" answered Mrs. Sin. "It is a threat!"

  Something in the tone of her voice as she uttered the last four wordsin mock dramatic fashion caused Mollie and Rita to stare at one anotherquestioningly. That suddenly altered tone had awakened an elusivememory, but neither of them could succeed in identifying it.

  Mareno, a lean, swarthy fellow, his foreign cast of countenanceaccentuated by close-cut side-whiskers, deposited Miss Gretna's case inthe cubicle which she had selected and, Rita pointing to that adjoiningit, he disposed the second case beside the divan and departed silently.As the sound of a closing door reached them:

  "You notice how quiet it is?" asked Mrs. Sin.

  "Yes," replied Rita. "It is extraordinarily quiet."

  "This an empty house--'To let,'" explained Mrs. Sin. "We watch it stayso. Sin the landlord, see? Windows all boarded up and everything padded.No sound outside, no sound inside. Sin call it the 'House of a HundredRaptures,' after the one he have in Buenos Ayres."

  The voice of Cyrus Kilfane came, querulous, from a neighboring room.

  "Lola, my dear, I am almost ready."

  "Ho!" Mrs. Sin uttered a deep-toned laugh. "He is a glutton for chandu!I am coming, Cy."

  She turned and went out. Sir Lucien paused for a moment, permitting herto pass, and:

  "Good night, Rita," he said in a low voice. "Happy dreams!"

  He moved away.

  "Lucy!" called Rita softly.

  "Yes?"

  "Is it--is it really safe here?"

  Pyne glanced ov
er his shoulder towards the retreating figure of Mrs.Sin, then:

  "I shall be awake," he replied. "I would rather you had not come, butsince you are here you must go through with it." He glanced again alongthe narrow passage created by the presence of the partitions, and spokein a voice lower yet. "You have never really trusted me, Rita. You werewise. But you can trust me now. Good night, dear."

  He walked out of the room and along the carpeted corridor to a littleapartment at the back of the house, furnished comfortably but inexecrably bad taste. A cheerful fire was burning in the grate, the flueof which had been ingeniously diverted by Sin Sin Wa so that the smokeissued from a chimney of the adjoining premises. On the mantelshelf,which was garishly draped, were a number of photographs of Mrs. Sin inSpanish dancing costume.

  Pyne seated himself in an armchair and lighted a cigarette. Except forthe ticking of a clock the room was silent as a padded cell. Upona little Moorish table beside a deep, low settee lay a completeopium-smoking outfit.

  Lolling back in the chair and crossing his legs, Sir Lucien became lostin abstraction, and he was thus seated when, some ten minutes later,Mrs. Sin came in.

  "Ah!" she said, her harsh voice softened to a whisper. "I wondered. Soyou wait to smoke with me?" Pyne slowly turned his head, staring at heras she stood in the doorway, one hand resting on her hip and her shapelyfigure boldly outlined by the kimono.

  "No," he replied. "I don't want to smoke. Are they all provided for?"

  Mrs. Sin shook her head.

  "Not Cy," she said. "Two pipes are nothing to him. He will need twomore--perhaps three. But you are not going to smoke?"

  "Not tonight, Lola."

  She frowned, and was about to speak, when:

  "Lola, my dear," came a distant, querulous murmur. "Give me anotherpipe."

  Sin tossed her head, turned, and went out again. Sir Lucien lightedanother cigarette. When finally the woman came back, Cyrus Kilfane hadpresumably attained the opium-smoker's paradise, for Lola closed thedoor and seated herself upon the arm of Sir Lucien's chair. She bentdown, resting her dusky cheek against his.

  "You smoke with me?" she whispered coaxingly.

  "No, Lola, not tonight," he said, patting her jewel-laden hand andlooking aside into the dark eyes which were watching him intently.

  Mrs. Sin became silent for a few moments.

  "Something has changed in you," she said at last. "You aredifferent--lately."

  "Indeed!" drawled Sir Lucien. "Possibly you are right. Others have saidthe same thing."

  "You have lots of money now. Your investments have been good. You wantto become respectable, eh?"

  Pyne smiled sardonically.

  "Respectability is a question of appearance," he replied. "The change towhich you refer would seem to go deeper."

  "Very likely," murmured Mrs. Sin. "I know why you don't smoke. You havepromised your pretty little friend that you will stay awake and see thatnobody tries to cut her sweet white throat."

  Sir Lucien listened imperturbably.

  "She is certainly nervous," he admitted coolly. "I may add that I amsorry I brought her here."

  "Oh," said Mrs. Sin, her voice rising half a note. "Then why do youbring her to the House?"

  "She made the arrangement herself, and I took the easier path. I amconsidering your interests as much as my own, Lola. She is about tomarry Monte Irvin, and if his suspicions were aroused he is quitecapable of digging down to the 'Hundred Raptures.'"

  "You brought her to Kazmah's."

  "She was not at that time engaged to Irvin."

  "Ah, I see. And now everybody says you are changed. Yes, she is acharming friend."

  Pyne looked up into the half-veiled dark eyes.

  "She never has been and never can be any more to me, Lola," he said.

  At those words, designed to placate, the fire which smouldered in Lola'sbreast burst into sudden flame. She leapt to her feet, confronting SirLucien.

  "I know! I know!" she cried harshly. "Do you think I am blind? If shehad been like any of the others, do you suppose it would have matteredto me? But you respect her--you respect her!"

  Eyes blazing and hands clenched, she stood before him, a woman mad withjealousy, not of a successful rival but of a respected one. She quiveredwith passion, and Pyne, perceiving his mistake too late, only preservedhis wonted composure by dint of a great effort. He grasped Lola and drewher down on to the arm of the chair by sheer force, for she resistedsavagely. His ready wit had been at work, and:

  "What a little spitfire you are," he said, firmly grasping her arms,which felt rigid to the touch. "Surely you can understand? Rita amusedme, at first. Then, when I found she was going to marry Monte Irvin Ididn't bother about her any more. In fact, because I like and admireIrvin, I tried to keep her away from the dope. We don't want troublewith a man of that type, who has all sorts of influence. Besides, MonteIrvin is a good fellow."

  Gradually, as he spoke, the rigid arms relaxed and the lithe body ceasedto quiver. Finally, Lola sank back against his shoulder, sighing.

  "I don't believe you," she whispered. "You are telling me lies. Butyou have always told me lies; one more does not matter, I suppose. Howstrong you are. You have hurt my wrists. You will smoke with me now?"

  For a moment Pyne hesitated, then:

  "Very well," he said. "Go and lie down. I will roast the chandu."