The man in black came back. He stood listening. For a moment he hesitated as though about to descend the stairway and make a search below. Then his head turned directly toward the taboret.
This article of furniture was of Chinese manufacture, an exquisite piece of woodwork. The corner of the room was vacant. The taboret stood about four feet from the corner. The image of Chong was the same distance from the corner, but set against the adjoining wall.
There was no mistaking the taboret. It was the only one in the room that contained a closet beneath it.
The image of Chong was also on a taboret — there were several of the little tables in this Oriental chamber. But the one near the corner was the largest of them.
The man in the black cloak approached closely. He appeared a trifle nervous. He bent low and cautiously extended his hand.
His glove trembled slightly as it touched the knob of the door beneath the taboret. Then the fingers clutched the knob. They moved slowly to the left. The door came open. It revealed a stack of ebony boxes.
The black-gloved hands removed the uppermost box and opened it. The man hesitated. He half rose and looked quickly about him, to make sure that no one had entered. The room was silent.
He removed the papers from the box. He closed the box and replaced it in the hollow beneath the taboret.
AT that moment, a strange event transpired. The bronze image of Chong began to move. Silently, gruesomely, the hideous figure came to life! It stretched its long arms and rested its hands beside its body.
With a hopping motion, the image slipped from its pedestal. Its bare feet were noiseless as they reached the floor. The living monstrosity crept forward. Its staring eyes and grinning lips did not change their expression.