The quartette filed through into a carpeted corridor, and Mrs. Sin reclosed the false back of the cupboard, which, viewed from the other side, proved to be a door fitted into a recess in the corridor of the adjoining house. This recess ceased to exist when a second and heavier door was closed upon the first.
“You know,” murmured Kilfane, “old Sin Sin has his uses, Lola. Those doors are perfectly made.”
“Pooh!” scoffed the woman, with a flash of her dark eyes; “he is half a ship’s carpenter and half an ape!”
She moved along the passage, her arm linked in that of Sir Lucien. The others followed, and:
“Is she truly married to that dreadful Chinaman?” whispered Mollie Gretna.
“Yes, I believe so,” murmured Kilfane. “She is known as Mrs. Sin Sin Wa.”
“Oh!” Mollie’s eyes opened widely. “I almost envy her! I have read that Chinamen tie their wives to beams in the roof and lash them with leather thongs until they swoon. I could die for a man who lashed me with leather thongs. Englishmen are so ridiculously gentle to women.”
Opening a door on the left of the corridor, Mrs. Sin displayed a room screened off into three sections. One shaded lamp high up near the ceiling served to light all the cubicles, which were heated by small charcoal stoves. These cubicles were identical in shape and appointment, each being draped with quaint Chinese tapestry and containing rugs, a silken divan, an armchair, and a low, Eastern table.
“Choose for yourself,” said Mrs. Sin, turning to Rita and Mollie Gretna. “Nobody else come tonight. You two in this room, eh? Next door each other for company.”
She withdrew, leaving the two girls together. Mollie clasped her hands ecstatically.