XVIII
THE DARK FIELD
Two evenings later a heavy fog blanketed the San Francisco waterfront, hiding its smelly wharves and damp alleys under a dreary pall. A distant foghorn sounded dismally above the lap-lap of harbor water against wooden piles. Vaguely the blended roar of a mighty city drifted seaward through the murk and mist. It was a night for secrecy; for furtive business which could not bear the light of day.
In the winding alleys of old Chinatown brooded a heavy silence, spiced with queer oriental odors. It flowed between the buildings like a deep, mysterious river. It reached thick tentacles up a steeply sloping street to close around a huge stone house.
A high stone wall, clammy with the fog, surrounded the lightless edifice. Within there seemed to be neither sound nor life nor movement. Yet a sharp-eyed passer-by might have noticed a tiny thread of light peeping through the drawn curtain of a second floor window.
At least the light was there, although blurred and scarcely visible in the close-pressing fog.
One thing no curious passerby could have guessed—the luxurious richness of the room behind that drawn curtain. Soft shaded lights spread their glow over satin wall hangings, deep piled oriental rugs, and beautiful costly furniture. The air was heavy with incense, sweet but oppressive.
At a table a young woman sat gazing at her reflection in a large mirror. Clad in a loose, flowing gown of silk, her figure was almost girlish. Her face beneath its oriental coiffure had a fresh, flowerlike beauty which deepened as she turned and spoke.
“Suzette!” she murmured plaintively. “Do you think I am as lovely tonight as I was three months ago?”
A trimly uniformed maid appeared from an alcove beyond the dressing table. Her bright eyes took in the dark-haired girl in one swift, approving glance.
“But yes, Mademoiselle! You are even more beautiful tonight!” she answered. “It is that little touch of tristesse which make you so, I think. Is it because you are impatient to see Count Borg again after three long months? Ah, Mademoiselle Lotus! You cannot fool the little French maid, Suzette!”