An obliging bunch of keys lay invitingly upon the study table, and rapidly I opened drawer after drawer in that apartment and the bedroom, and became more and more irritated, as my search proved ever fruitless.
The reception-room only was left, and my vexation evaporated in a laugh of approaching triumph, as I realized that a cunning man would hide what he had to hide in the most open room, and not in the most private.
There was only an ormolu writing-table with fancy drawers that refused to yield to the persuasion of my keys, but a broad-bladed Oriental knife tempted me, and, thrusting it into the edge, I pressed upon it, and forced the front from the drawer.
It came with a sharp snap, and a quiet chuckle caused me to turn with a start.
His Excellency's secretary, Ling Wen, was sitting in a chair, his hands upon his knees, smiling blandly at me.
I did not speak. For the first time in my life I could not find the right words to say, but could only gaze into the face of Ling Wen, who sat there, his long fingers spread out over the knees of his yellow, embroidered silk robe. I glanced at the clock. I had been at work over an hour.
"You are searching for something," he said, quietly—"pray continue;" and the invitation was too gracious not to be accepted. I swept the contents of the drawer upon the carpet.
There were only a few bundles of official-looking papers. I pushed them aside with my shoe and frowned in annoyance.
"So it is not a paper you seek, madame?" Ling Wen suavely murmured. "That is good."
"It is a trifle," I nervously answered; "a trinket that I mislaid when I stayed here last."