His reception by Ho-Pin had varied scarce one iota from that
accorded him on his first visit to the cave of the golden dragon. The
immobile Egyptian had brought him the opium, and had departed silently
as before. On this occasion, the trap above the bed had not been opened.
But hour after hour had passed, uneventfully, silently, in that still,
suffocating room....
A key in the lock!--yes, a key was being inserted in the lock! He
must take no unnecessary risks; it might be another than Soames. He
waited--the faint sound of fumbling ceased. Still, he waited, listening
intently.
Half-past-two. If it had been Soames, why had he withdrawn? M. Max arose
noiselessly and looked about him. He was undecided what to do, when...
Two shots, followed by a most appalling shriek--the more frightful
because it was muffled; the shriek of a man in extremis, of one who
stands upon the brink of Eternity, brought him up rigid, tense,
with fists clenched, with eyes glaring; wrought within this fearless
investigator an emotion akin to terror.
Just that one gruesome cry there was and silence again.
What did it mean?
M. Max began hastily to dress. He discovered, in endeavoring to fasten
his collar, that his skin was wet with cold perspiration.
"Pardieu!" he said, twisting his mouth into that wry smile, "I know,
now, the meaning of fright!"
He was ever glancing toward the door, not hopefully as hitherto, but
apprehensively, fearfully.
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