“As he spoke, as if in obedience to some rehearsed cue, the door opened. A vague perfume assailed my nostrils—a faint, elusive scent—a zephyr from the East. Through the opening Meta stepped. She wore a kimona—a soft, silken, figured affair reminiscent of the Orient. I can only remember that beneath its folds protruded a glimpse of tiny, bare feet clad in the smallest of sandals.
“There are silences more eloquent than words. For an instant my eyes sought hers—deep, dark, lustrous, glowing like great pools of liquid fire.
“She smiled. Then, suddenly, she sprang forward, her arms from which the folds of the kimona had slipped, bared—outstretched toward me, her rich red lips upraised to mine.
“I leaped to my feet. My mind was filled with wild, insane thoughts. I took a half step toward her. Like a frightened bird, she darted backward. Then, as if filled with a wild abandon, she tore open the neck of her kimona, revealing to my startled gaze a glimpse of transparent white skin.
“Stretching forth one rounded arm, she displaced the curtain, discovering to my view a room opposite that in which lay the body of the man from the grave.
“My God! Crouched in a corner like a frightened animal was Avis! Her dress was torn, her golden hair matted and unkempt. She shrunk away from the light as one who fears its rays. Her big blue eyes gazed into mine. They were wide with fear. Yet her lips moved. It seemed to me that they were trying to form some message—to convey something to me.
“She held up her hands appealingly. They were fastened together with chains.
“From behind me came the voice of Lessman:
“‘Choose!’ he commanded. ‘On one hand wealth, luxury, power, beautiful women; on the other—this!
“‘Choose!’”