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Page 7
From his pocket-book the visitor extracted a card, consulted
something written upon it, and then pressed the bell.
It was very quiet in this dingy little court. No sound of the
busy thoroughfares penetrated here; and although the passage
forming the top of the "T" practically marked the river bank,
only dimly could one discern the sounds which belong to a
seaport.
Presently the door was opened by a Chinese boy who wore the
ordinary native working dress, and who regarded the man upon the
step with oblique, tired-looking eyes.
"Mr. Huang Chow?" asked the caller.
The boy nodded.
"You wantchee him see?"
"If he is at home."
The boy glanced at the card, which the visitor still held between
finger and thumb, and extended his hand silently. The card was
surrendered. It was that of an antique dealer of Dover Street,
Piccadilly, and written upon the back was the following: "Mr.
Hampden would like to do business with you." The signature of the
dealer followed.
The boy turned and passed along a dim and perfectly unfurnished
passage which the opening of the door had revealed, while Mr.
Hampden stood upon the step and lighted a cigarette.
In less than a minute the boy returned and beckoned to him to
come in. As he did so, and the door was closed, he almost
stumbled, so dark was the passage.
Presently, guided by the boy, he found himself in a very
business-like little office, where a girl sat at an American
desk, looking up at him inquiringly.
She was of a dark and arresting type. Without being pretty in
the European sense, there was something appealing in her fine,
dark eyes, and she possessed the inviting smile which is the
heritage of Eastern women. Her dress was not unlike that of any
other business girl, except that the neck of her blouse was cut
very low, a fashion affected by many Eurasians, and she wore a
gaily coloured sash, and large and very costly pearl ear-rings.
As Mr. Hampden paused in the doorway:
"Good morning," said the girl, glancing down at the card which
lay upon the desk before her. "You come from Mr. Isaacs, eh?"
She looked at him with a caressing glance from beneath half-
lowered lashes, but missed no detail of his appearance. She did
not quite like his moustache, and thought that he would have
looked better cleanshaven. Nevertheless, he was a well-set-up
fellow, and her manner evidenced approval.
"Yes," he replied, smiling genially. "I have a small commission
to execute, and I am told that you can help me."
The girl paused for a moment, and then:
"Yes, very likely," she said, speaking good English but with an
odd intonation. "It is not jade? We have very little jade."
"No, no. I wanted an enamelled casket."
"What kind?"
"Cloisonne."
"Cloisonne? Yes, we have several."
She pressed a bell, and, glancing up at the boy who had stood
throughout the interview at the visitor's elbow, addressed him
rapidly in Chinese. He nodded his head and led the way through a
second doorway. Closing this, he opened a third and ushered Mr.
Hampden into a room which nearly caused the latter to gasp with
astonishment.
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