It bore an ornate monogram worked in gold, and representing the
letters "L. C." Oddly enough, it was the corner that bore the
monogram which was also bloodstained.
III
THE ROOM OF THE GOLDEN BUDDHA
It was a moot point whether Lady Pat Rourke merited condemnation
or pity. She possessed that type of blonde beauty which seems to
be a lodestone for mankind in general. Her husband was wealthy,
twelve years her senior, and, far from watching over her with
jealous care--an attitude which often characterizes such unions--
he, on the contrary, permitted her a dangerous freedom, believing
that she would appreciate without abusing it.
Her friendship with Lou Chada had first opened his eyes to the
perils which beset the road of least resistance. Sir Noel Rourke
was an Anglo-Indian, and his prejudice against the Eurasian was
one not lightly to be surmounted. Not all the polish which
English culture had given to this child of a mixed union could
blind Sir Noel to the yellow streak. Courted though Chada was by
some of the best people, Sir Noel remained cold.
The long, magnetic eyes, the handsome, clear-cut features, above
all, that slow and alluring smile, appealed to the husband of the
wilful Pat rather as evidences of Oriental, half-effeminate
devilry than as passports to decent society.
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