"Must be made by that joss-stick. It smells like cinnamon, and is apparently a manufactured article. Hwei brought it, so that he could wave the fan in its smoke and then learn the secret. But he dropped the joss-stick and--where is it Olivia."
"I put it in a drawer over there, after you showed it to me."
Mrs. Ainsleigh went to a rose-wood cabinet and opened a drawer. She then returned with the Joss-stick in her hand, and gave it to her husband, who was kneeling on the hearth-rug. "I hope it won't explode, Rupert," said Olivia nervously.
He stared. "Why should you think that?"
"Well it might have been dropped on purpose, and looks like a cracker with that red paper round it. Perhaps there's dynamite--"
"Nonsense," said Rupert taking out a match, "however, if you are afraid, go into the next room."
"No," said Olivia seating herself, "if you are to be blown to bits, I'll be blown up with you."
They both laughed at the idea, and then Rupert lighted the match. It was distinctly nervous work however, and Olivia started back, as her husband set the joss stick fizzling. She was leaning forward in the chair with her dark head nearly touching his fair hair. The joss stick smoked slowly and a queer odour diffused itself though the room. Olivia sniffed. "Rupert," she said positively, "it's the same scent as was on that letter of Tung-yu's."
"And of Lo-Keong also," said Rupert watching the thick bluish smoke, which now began to curl up from the joss stick, "apparently the Mandarin uses the perfume as a kind of clue, or perhaps it is a special scent dedicated to this private god of his. I shall never understand Chinamen and I'm very sure I don't want too. Olivia, hold the stick while I wave the fan in the smoke."
Being now assured that the smoke was proceeding from a harmless article, Mrs. Ainsleigh took the stick and held it lightly, while her husband gravely waved the out-spread fan in the thick smoke. The joss stick fizzled and burned and gave out its queer smell, which made both slightly dizzy. Every now and then, Rupert looked at the enamelled side of the fan, where Tung-yu said that a picture would appear. There certainly did seem something scrawled on the smooth green sticks, and a blurred outline revealed itself. For quite ten minutes Ainsleigh continued waving, until the joss stick burnt down nearly to the root. Then he looked again, Olivia placed the still fizzling joss stick in the fender, and peered over his shoulder. She uttered a cry when she saw the black outline of the picture, and Rupert nearly echoed it. They were looking at a drawing of the cloisters.