The great car, with its fittings of gold and ivory, drew up at the door
of Colonel Deacon's house. The interior was ablaze with tiger lilies,
and out from their midst stepped the fairest of them all--Madame de
Medici, and swept queenly up the steps upon the arm of the cavalierly
soldier.
All connoisseurs esteemed it a privilege to view the Deacon collection,
and this afternoon there was a goodly gathering. Chairs and little white
tables were dotted about the lawn in shady spots, and the majority of
the company were already assembled; but when, in a wonderful golden
robe, Madame de Medici glided across the lawn, the babel ceased abruptly
as if by magic. She pulled off one glove and began twirling a great
emerald between her slim fingers. It was suspended from a thin gold
chain. Presently, descrying Annesley seated at a table with Lady Dascot,
she raised the jewel languidly and peered through it at the two.
“Why!” exclaimed Rene Deacon, who stood close beside her, “that was a
trick of Nero's!”
Madame laughed musically.
“One might take a worse model,” she said softly; “at least he enjoyed
life.”
Colonel Deacon, who listened to her every word as to the utterance of a
Cumaean oracle, laughed with extraordinary approbation.
There was scarce a woman present who regarded Madame with a friendly
eye, nor a man who did not aspire to become her devoted slave. She
brought an atmosphere of unreality with her, dominating old and young
alike by virtue of her splendid pagan beauty. The lawn, with its very
modern appointments, became as some garden of the Golden House, a
pleasure ground of an emperor.
But later, when the company entered the house, and Colonel Deacon sought
to monopolize the society of Madame, an unhealthy spirit of jealousy
arose between Rene and his guardian. It was strange, grotesque, horrible
almost. Annesley watched from afar, and there was something very like
anger in his glance.
“And this,” said the Colonel presently, taking up an exquisitely carved
ivory Buddha, “has a strange history. In some way a legend has grown up
around it--it is of very great age--to the effect that it must always
cause its owner to lose his most cherished possession.”
“I wonder,” said the silvern voice, “that you, who possess so many
beautiful things, should consent to have so ill-omened a curiosity in
your house.”
“I do not fear the evil charm of this little ivory image,” said Colonel
Deacon, “although its history goes far to bear out the truth of the
legend. Its last possessor lost his most cherished possession a month
after the Buddha came into his hands. He fell down his own stairs--and
lost his life!”
Madame de Medici languidly surveyed the figure through the upraised
emerald.
“Really!” she murmured. “And the one from whom he procured it?”
“A Hindu usurer of Simla,” replied the Colonel. “His daughter stole it
from her father together with many other things, and took them to her
lover, with whom she fled!”
Madame de Medici seemed to be slightly interested.
“I should love to possess so weird a thing,” she said softly.
“It is yours!” exclaimed the Colonel, and placed it in her hands.
“Oh, but really,” she protested.
“But really I insist--in order that you may not forget your first visit
to my house!”
She shrugged her shoulders.
“How very kind you are, Colonel Deacon,” she said, “to a rival
collector!”
“Now that the menace is removed,” said Colonel Deacon with laboured
humour, “I will show you my most treasured possession.”
“So! I am greatly interested.”
“Not even this rascal Rene,” said the Colonel, stopping before a safe
set in the wall, “has seen what I am about to show you!”
Rene started slightly and watched with intense interest the unlocking of
the safe.
“If I am not superstitious about the ivory Buddha,” continued the
Colonel, “I must plead guilty in the case of the Key of the Temple of
Heaven!”
“The Key of the Temple of Heaven!” murmured a lady standing immediately
behind Madame de Medici. “And what is the Key of the Temple of Heaven?”
The Colonel, having unlocked the safe, straightened himself, and while
everyone was waiting to see what he had to show, began to speak again
pompously:
“The Temple of Heaven stands in the outer or Chinese City of Pekin, and
is fabulously wealthy. No European, I can swear, had ever entered its
secret chambers until last year. One of its most famous treasures was
this Key. It was used only to open the special entrance reserved for the
Emperor when he came to worship after his succession to the throne--that
was, of course, before China became a Republic. The Key is studded
almost all over with precious stones. Last year a certain naval
man--I'll not mention his name--discovered the secret of its
hiding-place. How he came by that knowledge does not matter at present.
One very dark night he crept up to the temple. He found the Keeper of
the Key--a Buddhist priest--to be sleeping, and he succeeded, therefore,
in gaining access and becoming possessed of the Key.”
A chorus of excited exclamations greeted this dramatic point of the
story.
“The object of this outrage,” continued the Colonel, “for an outrage
I cannot deny it to have been, was not a romantic one. The poor chap
wanted money, and he thought he could sell the Key to one of the native
jewellers. But he was mistaken. He got back safely, and secretly offered
it in various directions. No one would touch the thing; moreover,
although of great value, the stones were very far from flawless, and
not really worth the risks which he had run to secure them. Don't
misunderstand me; the Key would fetch a big sum, but not a fortune.”
“Yes?” said Madame de Medici, smiling, for the Colonel paused.
“He packed it up and addressed it to me, together with a letter. The
price that he asked was quite a moderate one, and when the Key arrived
in England I dispatched a check immediately. It never reached him.”
“Why?” cried many whom this strange story had profoundly interested.
“He was found dead at the back of the native cantonments, with a knife
in his heart!”
“Oh!” exclaimed Lady Dascot. “How positively ghastly! I don't think I
want to see the dreadful thing!”
“Really!” murmured Madame de Medici, turning languidly to the speaker.
“I do.”
The Colonel stooped and reached into the safe. Then he began to take
out object after object, box after box. Finally, he straightened himself
again, and all saw that his face was oddly blanched.
“It's gone!” he whispered hoarsely. “The Key of the Temple of Heaven has
been stolen!”