The statue was of bronze; its arms were crossed, and its fierce, ugly face stared straight ahead with glaring eyes.
“What is it?” questioned Thelda, in an awed voice.
“The image of Chong,” replied Doctor Palermo. “I have long desired it for this Oriental den. It is said to have come from the imperial palace in Peking.”
He helped Hassan lift the image from the carrier. The two men were barely able to raise it. They placed it upon a taboret in a corner of the room, a place that had evidently been prepared for the bronze statue.
A long shadow appeared upon the floor; but no one observed it, so intent were they in their examination of the Oriental statue. As Doctor Palermo stepped back, the shadow disappeared in the direction of the hangings on the wall.
“Perfect!” exclaimed Doctor Palermo. “Perfect!”
Thelda Blanchet glanced at her wrist watch.
“I must go,” she said. “It would be well if I were there when—” She glanced toward Hassan, and stopped her sentence. “It would be well for me to go.”
Doctor Palermo bowed. He smiled slightly as he detected the look of tenderness in the girl’s eyes. Thelda followed Hassan down the circular staircase.
Minutes ticked by. Doctor Palermo sat on his thronelike chair, and stared steadily at the image of Chong.