“The city of a million lights!” she murmured.
It was all of that and more, this great Century of Progress. And night was its time of entrancing beauty. Tall towers glowing like shafts of white hot metal, great structures changing color like giant chameleons, now pink, now yellow, now pale blue, fountains of fire leaping up from the gleaming surface of the lagoon.
“It is like the end of the world,” she murmured. “All is on fire.”
To her ears, like the roar of a distant cataract, came the sound of it all. She seemed to catch the whistle of rocket cars as, gliding over steel cables, they carried screaming joy riders through space to the distant island.
“How marvelous it all is!” she murmured again. “To think that only a short time ago there was no island, that ships came to anchor where now ten thousand children play!”
But Jeanne’s eyes did not linger on the Sky Way where rocket cars glided nor the waters where fiery fountains played. Her eyes had come to rest at a spot close to Soldiers’ Field where a low roof cast back a gleam of gold.
“The Golden Temple of Jehol from that enchanting land of mystery, China!” she whispered. “I shall go there to-night. It may be that there I shall learn much regarding that very curious chest, those banners and that ancient three-bladed dagger with all those jewels in the handle.
“It may be!” She shuddered in spite of herself. “It just may happen that there I shall find the little Chinaman with those so very long ears. And if I find him? Ah, then what shall I do?”
She was not one to worry much about what should be done under certain circumstances, this little French girl. Inspiration of the moment should guide her. Tripping lightly to the elevator door, she went speeding downward and was soon on her way to the Golden Temple of Jehol.
On entering the Golden Temple Jeanne found it all but deserted.