He lowered his left foot, sought for and found another shelf beneath,
and descended as by a ladder to the thickly carpeted floor. Grasping the
end of the bar, he pulled that weapon down; then he twisted the button
which converted his timepiece into an electric lantern, and, holding the
bar in one tensely quivering hand, looked rapidly about him.
This was a library; a small library, with bowls of roses set upon
tables, shelves, in gaps between the books, and one lying overturned
upon the floor. Although it was almost drowned by their overpowering
perfume, he detected a faint smell of powder. In one corner stood
a large writing-table with papers strewn carelessly upon it. Its
appointments were markedly Chinese in character, from the singular, gold
inkwell to the jade paperweight; markedly Chinese--and--FEMININE. A very
handsome screen lay upon the floor in front of this table, and the rich
carpet he noted to be disordered as if a struggle had taken place upon
it. But, most singular circumstance of all, and most disturbing... there
was no door to this room!
For a moment he failed to appreciate the entire significance of this.
A secret room difficult to enter he could comprehend, but a secret room
difficult to QUIT passed his comprehension completely.
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