Durham inhaled deeply. He realized that during the last few
seconds he had been holding his breath. Now, as he began to
creep back down the slope, he discovered that his hands were
shaking.
He dropped down into the court again, and for several minutes
leaned against the wall, endeavouring to reason out an
explanation of what he had seen, and in a measure to regain his
composure.
There was a horror underlying it all which he was half afraid to
face. But the real clue to the mystery still eluded him.
Whether what he had witnessed were some kind of obscene ceremony,
or whether an explanation more vile must be sought, he remained
undetermined. He must repeat his exploit, if possible, and once
more gain access to the room which contained the lacquer coffin.
But the adventure was very distasteful. He recollected the smell
of the place, and the memory brought with it a sense of nausea.
He thought of Lala Huang, and his ideas became grotesque and
chaotic. Yet the solution of the mystery lay at last within his
grasp, and to the zest of the investigator everything else became
subjugated.
He walked slowly away, silent in his rubber-soled shoes.
IX
THE PICTURE ON THE PAD
Lala Huang lay listening to the vague sounds which disturbed the
silence of the night.
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