Many
corners they turned; they turned to the right, they turned to the left.
Soames was hopelessly bewildered. Then, suddenly, Ho-Pin stopped.
"Stand still," he said.
Soames became vaguely aware that a door was being closed somewhere near
to him. A lamp lighted up directly over his head... he found himself in
a small library!
Its four walls were covered with book-shelves from floor to ceiling, and
the shelves were packed to overflowing with books in most unusual and
bizarre bindings. A red carpet was on the floor and a red-shaded lamp
hung from the ceiling, which was conventionally white-washed. Although
there was no fireplace, the room was immoderately hot, and heavy with
the perfume of roses. On three little tables were great bowls filled
with roses, and there were other bowls containing roses in gaps between
the books on the open shelves.
A tall screen of beautifully carved sandalwood masked one corner of
the room, but beyond it protruded the end of a heavy writing-table upon
which lay some loose papers, and, standing amid them, an enormous silver
rose-bowl, brimming with sulphur-colored blooms.
Soames, obeying a primary instinct, turned, as the light leaped into
being, to seek the door by which he had entered. As he did so, the
former doubts of his own sanity returned with renewed vigor.
Pages:
128
129
130
131
132
133
134
135
136
137
138
139
140
141
142
143
144
145
146
147
148
149
150
151
152