The particular spot at which Larkin was staring was adorned with a peculiar carving slightly above the center of the door. It represented the solemn head of a lion, nearly half a foot in width. The mouth was opened, and the projecting tongue of oak gave the carving a realistic touch.
Margaret was fascinated. She looked at the creature’s eyes — black, hollow spots; then at the tongue; then back at the eyes again.
At that final glance she gasped in horror. The lion’s eyes were black no longer — they were human eyes, greenish eyes of a living being, staring furtively forth!
LARKIN caught the girl as she stepped back. His clutch brought her a sense of safety. Still, she could not speak. She could only point, terror-stricken at what she had seen.
Before Larkin could explain, the door moved sidewise, and Margaret saw the cause of her alarm. Ordinarily, it might have startled her, but now, in contrast to the living carving, it was a welcome relief.
A brown-skinned man was bowing obsequiously from behind the spot where the door had been. It was his eyes that Margaret had seen. They had been peering through peep-holes formed by the lion’s eyes. Margaret saw the greenish glint again, as the man stood upright.
He was a strange figure, clad in some Oriental attire, wearing a turban with a tall, straight plume. It gave the man an appearance of being much taller than he actually was. Margaret recognized that fact when he stood aside and she entered with Larkin.
They were in the most luxurious surroundings that the girl had ever seen. The room began as a narrow hall, then opened to thrice its original width. On both sides were carvings and tapestries of grotesque design.
A small fountain tinkled at the end of the wide hall. Beyond it was a shield adorned with jewels that sparkled through the falling water. The girl felt as though she had been transported to a rajah’s palace.
It was restful, there. Time passed easily. Many minutes slipped by, but the girl did not sense the fact.