The question was addressed to the policeman, not to me. Except for a formal greeting when we had met, Luella had spoken no word to me during the evening.
“Here's the biggest joss-house in town,” said Corson. “We might as well see it now as any time.”
“Oh, do let us see those delightfully horrible idols,” cried Mrs. Bowser. “But,” she added, with a sudden access of alarm at some recollection of the reading of her school-days, “do they cut people's hearts out before the wicked things right in the middle of the city?”
The policeman assured her that the appetite of the joss for gore remained unsatisfied, and led the way into the dimly-lighted building that served as a temple.
I lingered a moment by the door to see that all my party passed in.
“There's Wainwright,” whispered Porter, who closed the procession.
“Where?” I asked, a dim remembrance of the mission on which I had sent him in pursuit of the snake-eyed man giving the information a sinister twist.
Porter gave a chirrup, and Wainwright halted at the door.
“He's just passed up the alley here,” said Wainwright in a low voice.
“Who? Terrill?” I asked.