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Page 24
Now, with feverish, horrible rapidity it was racing up the
tapestries on the other side of the room.
"Merciful God!" groaned the sergeant.
Snatching a revolver from his pocket he fired shot after shot.
The third hit the thing but did not kill it. It dropped back
upon the floor and began to crawl toward the coffin. The
sergeant ran across and at close quarters shot it again.
Red blood oozed out from the hideous black body and began to form
a deep stain upon the carpet.
When Durham, drenched but unhurt, was hauled back into the
treasure-house, he did not speak, but, scrambling into the room
stood--pallid--staring dully at old Huang Chow.
Huang Chow, upon his knees beside his daughter, was engaged in
sprinkling priceless jewels over her still body, and murmuring in
Chinese:
"For you, for you, Lala. They were all for you."
KERRY'S KID
I
RED KERRY ON DUTY
Chief Inspector Kerry came down from the top of a motor-bus and
stood on the sidewalk for a while gazing to right and left along
Piccadilly. The night was humid and misty, now threatening fog
and now rain. Many travellers were abroad at this Christmas
season, the pleasure seekers easily to be distinguished from
those whom business had detained in town, and who hurried toward
their various firesides. The theatres were disgorging their
audiences. Streams of lighted cars bore parties supperward; less
pretentious taxicabs formed links in the chain.
From the little huddled crowd of more economical theatre-goers
who waited at the stopping place of the motor-buses, Kerry
detached himself, walking slowly along westward and staring
reflectively about him. Opposite the corner of Bond Street he
stood still, swinging his malacca cane and gazing fixedly along
this narrow bazaar street of the Baghdad of the West. His trim,
athletic figure was muffled in a big, double-breasted, woolly
overcoat, the collar turned up about his ears. His neat bowler
hat was tilted forward so as to shade the fierce blue eyes.
Indeed, in that imperfect light, little of the Chief Inspector's
countenance was visible except his large, gleaming white teeth,
which he constantly revealed in the act of industriously chewing
mint gum.
He smiled as he chewed. Duty had called him out into the mist,
and for once he had obeyed reluctantly. That very afternoon had
seen the return of Dan Kerry, junior, home from school for the
Christmas vacation, and Dan was the apple of his father's eye.
Mrs. Kerry had reserved her dour Scottish comments upon the
boy's school report for a more seemly occasion than the first day
of his holidays; but Kerry had made no attempt to conceal his
jubilation--almost immoral, his wife had declared it to be--
respecting the lad's athletic record. His work on the junior
left wing had gained the commendation of a celebrated
international; and Kerry, who had interviewed the gymnasium
instructor, had learned that Dan Junior bade fair to become an
amateur boxer of distinction.
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