“Children.” She smiled as she recalled the pictures of cute Chinese youngsters he had shown her. “And to think that they should be robbed of hospital care by one selfish Chinaman!”
Just then the elevator door opened. She stepped inside to go whirling upward. She did not cease to ponder. “Is this long-eared Chinaman merely selfish? Is he greedy for wealth?” There had been a rather startling look of fierce determination on his face. “Superstitious,” she whispered. “All Orientals are that, I suppose. There must be something about that knife, the bell and the banners that we don’t know about. He would risk his life for them, I am sure of that. Commit murder, too!” She shuddered.
“And yet—” A sudden thought struck her. “He has them all now; he must have; the chest was empty. What more can he want?”
She recalled Jeanne’s story of her flight up the ladder in that vast steel dome. “He was about to speak to her, touched her on the shoulder. What did he want? He—”
Her car shuddered slightly, then came to a halt. They had reached the two hundred foot level where one boards the Sky Ride.
Without really willing it, she allowed herself to be carried out with the crowd.
She was standing there only half conscious of the rocket car just loading before her, still asking herself questions. “Should she tell Jeanne Erik Nord’s story? What should she do about the whole affair? Should she tell Erik what she knew? Should—”
Of a sudden, eyes wide, arms extended, she sprang forward. But she was just one step too late. The door closed. The rocket car went shooting on its way. And in it, smiling sardonically no doubt, was the long-eared Chinaman.
* * * * * * * *
Jeanne went for a stroll on the boulevard that night. And she wore not her own modest sport coat but one of Lorena LeMar’s wraps, a superb creation.