can sweep it back again for all I care,’ I said indifferently, ‘I’ve finished my breakfast.’
‘No,’ said Barris, hastily swallowing his coffee, ‘it’s of no importance; you can tell me about the beast—’
‘Serve you right if I had it brought in on toast,’ I returned.
Pierpont came in radiant, fresh from the bath.
‘Go on with your story, Roy,’ he said; and I told them about Godfrey and his reptile pet.
‘Now what in the name of common sense can Godfrey find interesting in that creature?’ I ended, tossing my cigarette into the fireplace.
‘It’s Japanese, don’t you think?’ said Pierpont.
‘No,’ said Barris, ‘it is not artistically grotesque, it’s vulgar and horrible – it looks cheap and unfinished—’
‘Unfinished – exactly,’ said I, ‘like an American humorist—’
‘Yes,’ said Pierpont, ‘cheap. What about that gold serpent?’
‘Oh, the Metropolitan Museum bought it; you must see it, it’s marvelous.’
Barris and Pierpont had lighted their cigarettes and, after a moment, we all rose and strolled out to the lawn, where chairs and hammocks were placed under the maple trees.
David passed, gun under arm, dogs heeling.
‘Three guns on the meadows at four this afternoon,’ said Pierpont.
‘Roy,’ said Barris as David bowed and started on, ‘what did you do yesterday?’
This was the question that I had been expecting. All night long I had dreamed of Ysonde and the glade in the woods, where, at the bottom of the crystal fountain, I saw the reflection of her eyes. All the morning while bathing and dressing I had been persuading myself that the dream was not worth recounting and that a search for the glade and the imaginary stone carving would be ridiculous. But now, as Barris asked the question, I suddenly decided to tell him the whole story.
‘See here, you fellows,’ I said abruptly, ‘I am going to tell you something queer. You can laugh as much as you please to, but first I want to ask Barris a question or two. You have been in China, Barris?’
‘Yes,’ said Barris, looking straight into my eyes.
‘Would a Chinaman be likely to turn lumberman?’
‘Have you seen a Chinaman?’ he asked in a quiet voice.
‘I don’t know; David and I both imagined we did.’
Barris and Pierpont exchanged glances.
‘Have you seen one also?’ I demanded, turning to include Pierpont.
‘No,’ said Barris slowly; ‘but I know that there is, or has been, a Chinaman in these woods.’
‘The devil!’ said I.
‘Yes,’ said Barris gravely; ‘the devil, if you like – a devil – a member of the Kuen-Yuin.’
I drew my chair close to the hammock where Pierpont lay at full length, holding out to me a ball of pure gold.
‘Well?’ said I, examining the engraving on its surface, which represented a mass of twisted creatures – dragons, I supposed.
‘Well,’ repeated Barris, extending his hand to take the golden ball, ‘this globe of gold engraved with reptiles and Chinese hieroglyphics is the symbol of the Kuen-Yuin.’
‘Where did you get it?’ I asked, feeling that something startling was impending.
‘Pierpont found it by the lake at sunrise this morning. It is the symbol of the Kuen-Yuin,’ he repeated, ‘the terrible Kuen-Yuin, the sorcerers of China, and the most murderously diabolical sect on earth.’
We puffed our cigarettes in silence until Barris rose, and began to pace backward and forward among the trees, twisting his gray moustache.
‘The Kuen-Yuin are sorcerers,’ he said, pausing before the hammock where Pierpont lay watching him; ‘I mean exactly what I say – sorcerers. I’ve seen them – I’ve seen them at their devilish business, and I repeat to you solemnly, that as there are angels above, there is a race of devils on earth and they are sorcerers. Bah!’ he cried, ‘talk to me of Indian magic and Yogis and all that clap-trap! Why, Roy, I tell you that the Kuen-Yuin have absolute control of a hundred millions of people, mind and body, body and soul. Do you know what goes on in the interior of China? Does Europe know – could any human being conceive of the condition of that gigantic hellpit? You read the papers, you hear diplomatic twaddle about Li Hung Chang and the Emperor, you see accounts of battles on sea and land, and you know that Japan has raised a toy tempest along the jagged edge of the great unknown. But you never before heard of the Kuen-Yuin; no, nor has any European except a stray missionary or two, and yet I tell you that when the fires from this pit of hell have eaten through the continent to the coast, the explosion will inundate half a world – and God help the other half.’
Pierpont’s cigarette went out; he lighted another, and looked hard at Barris.
‘But,’ resumed Barris quietly, ‘“sufficient unto the day”, you know – I didn’t intend to say as much as I did – it would do no good – even you and Pierpont will forget it – it seems so impossible and so far away – like the burning out of the sun. What I want to discuss is the possibility or probability of a Chinaman – a member of the Kuen-Yuin, being here, at this moment, in the forest.’
‘If he is,’ said Pierpont, ‘possibly the gold-makers owe their discovery to him.’
‘I do not doubt it for a second,’ said Barris earnestly.
I took the little golden globe in my hand, and examined the characters engraved upon it.
‘Barris,’ said Pierpont, ‘I can’t believe in sorcery while I am wearing one of Sanford’s shooting suits in the pocket of which rests an uncut volume of the “Duchess”.’
‘Neither can I,’ I said, ‘for I read the Evening Post, and I know Mr Godkin would not allow it. Hello! What’s the matter with this gold ball?’
‘What is the matter?’ said Barris grimly.
‘Why – why – it’s changing color – purple, no, crimson – no, it’s green I mean – good Heavens! these dragons are twisting under my fingers—’
‘Impossible!’ muttered Pierpont, leaning over me; ‘those are not dragons—’
‘No!’ I cried excitedly; ‘they are pictures of that reptile that Barris brought back – see – see – how they crawl and turn—’
‘Drop it!’ commanded Barris; and I threw the ball on the turf. In an instant we had all knelt down on the grass beside it, but the globe was again golden, grotesquely wrought with dragons and strange signs.
Pierpont,
