All of a sudden she started and stood up. The faint light of fading day had blinked out.
“The door!” she thought, in mild panic. “It has been closed!” At the same time she became conscious of a disturbing odor. “Incense,” she whispered.
Then she discovered that by some strange magic two great bronze apes, one on either side of the Buddha, had been set all aglow, and that from their nostrils thin columns of smoke rose straight toward the ceiling.
“It’s dark!” she thought. “We must be getting back. I wish Isabelle would come.”
Then, in a leisurely manner she moved toward the door. Arrived there, she put out a hand for the knob. Then she started back. There was no knob, no nothing—a very heavy teakwood door, perfectly blank. That was all. And the smoke of incense in the room grew thicker with every passing moment.
“Isabelle!” she called. No answer. “Isabelle!” Her voice rose. Still no answer.
Determined to remain calm, she walked slowly around the room searching for the door or some other opening. There was no door, only high, flat walls. And all the time the Buddha smiled and the bronze apes half hidden by smoke appeared to her.
CHAPTER VI
Temple Bells and Terror
In the meantime Isabelle found herself in a situation that in some ways seemed more precarious than that of her companion. Having found her way from the temple room through a narrow door, she had wandered all undisturbed down a hallway past several open doors. In one room she saw long tables with benches ranged on either side. Here, she concluded, pilgrims from distant parts were fed when they visited the shrine of Buddha. In another room their food was prepared, and in still another, on hard beds, they slept.
Realizing that it was growing late, she tiptoed back down the hall into the main temple room. She was about to join her companion, when all of a sudden she caught a gleam of light from a small room at the right.