Again the ancient priest answered a summons at the door. Again he parleyed for a moment—then opened it to the three swarthy foreigners who had been in the restaurant.
Baskinelli turned for just in instant to glance at the tall man with the tilted mustache, then resumed immediately his conversation with Pauline.
"Why do all the Chinamen run away like that?" she asked.
"It is the end of the service; you see the priests are going, too."
There was a furtive haste about the departure of the Orientals. And there was a quavering in the manner of the oldest priest—the only one who remained—that seemed born of a hidden fear.
The old priest lifted one of the lamps from a wall bracket and set it on the floor beside the idol. He knelt near it and began to pray.
The three Italians waited only a moment, then followed the Chinese out of the room.
"It is late—we ought to be going," pleaded Lucille.
Complete silence had fallen on the room and her words, a little tremulous, had instant effect on the other women.
"What about it, Baskinelli? Had we better be going?" asked one of the men.