The sudden appearance of the light was the signal for further demonstration. The prolonged screech of an owl replied to it. The screech, so shrill and ear-piercing, gave the watcher such a nerve-racking moment as to almost urge him to beat a hasty retreat. But the cry died away, and, as the echoes grew fainter and eventually became silent, he recovered himself. A moment passed and another cry split the air, only this time it came from across the valley on the opposite heights. Hervey stood with ears straining. He had detected something curious in the sound of those cries. Then as the second died away a single word muttered below his breath voiced his discovery.
“Human!” he said to himself, and a feeling of unholy joy swept over him, and he drew a pistol from his pocket and his hand gripped its butt significantly.
His eyes were still turned in the direction of the house where the light was burning when a scraping noise suddenly drew his attention to the graveyard before him. The scraping continued, and sounded like the grinding of an axe upon a whetstone. It distinctly came from one of the graves, and, for a moment, he experienced a shudder of superstitious fear. The next moment he suppressed a chuckle as he realized that the sound came from the grave at the side of which Neche had made such a demonstration that morning. He gazed in the direction, his great eyes burning with the lurid fires of pent-up excitement and speculation. What was the secret he was about to learn? He longed to draw closer to the spot, but he knew that he dared not move.
Suddenly a vague shadow loomed up from amongst the grass which grew so rankly in the 201 cemetery. Up, up it rose, black even against the background of utter darkness in which the forest was bathed. Hervey leaned forward, his eyes straining and every nerve tense-drawn. What was this––thing?
The shadow paused. Then it rose higher. It seemed to suddenly straighten up, and Hervey permitted a deep breath to escape him. The black figure had assumed the shape of a man, and the form moved forward towards the log dead-house. Then the waiting man saw that other figures were following the first in rapid succession. Each figure was bearing its burden. Some seemed to be carrying bundles, some carried that which appeared to be boxes, and others carried small square packages. As Hervey’s eyes became used to the strange scene he was able to distinguish something of the habiliments of these denizens of the grave. He noted the long, dark, smock-shaped garment each figure wore, and, after a while, in the starlight, he was able to note that most of them wore on their heads little skull-caps. Then a muttered exclamation broke from his lips, and in his tone was a world of satisfaction.
“Chinese!” he whispered. Then: “Traffic in yellow, by all that’s holy!”