Part 17

Ursula felt very happy, was childishly appreciative and enthusiastic over every beautiful little statuette, over every example of the naive painters’ art which Yeh Ling showed her.

“Yeh Ling,” she said, when they were alone for a second, “have you heard any news of Mr. Lander?”

He shook his head.

“Do you think he has got away to another country?” she asked.

“I think not,” said Yeh Ling.

“Do you know, Yeh Ling?” she said meaningly.

“I can only assure you, Miss Ardfern,” said Yeh Ling, waving the cool air into his face with a beautifully painted fan, “that I have never looked upon Mr. Lander’s face since the night I saw him at the Golden Roof.”

She was content with this, but--

“Who was Wellington Brown?” she asked in a strained voice.

“Lady,” said Yeh Ling gently, “he is dead: it was better that he died so than in the way you feared.”

She passed her hand before her eyes and nodded.

“We Chinese forgive our fathers much,” said Yeh Ling, and left her to her grief.

From the house he took his guests to the terrace gardens, and then down the broad yellow avenue to the two massive grey pillars that stood guard at the entrance of his domain.

“You had a lot of trouble with these, I am sure,” said Stott, casting a professional eye upward.

“With only one,” said Yeh Ling, and his fan moved to and fro languidly. “With the Pillar of Grateful Memories there was a hitch. Somebody came into the ground one night whilst it was raining and let cement into the mould, cut off the hauling rope and did other trivial damage. My builder thought that the pillar would not set, but it has.”

He looked up at the smooth face of the concrete and his eyes rested some dozen feet above the ground.

“I have dedicated this to all who have helped me, to the old man Shi Soh, to you, Miss Ardfern--to all gods western and eastern, to all who love and are loved.”

When his guests had gone, Yeh Ling, in his blue and gold satin dress of ceremony, came back to the pillar, and there was a little book in his hand. His finger was inserted midway.

The servant who accompained him he dismissed.

“I believe,” said Yeh Ling, “I shall be happier--” He stood facing the pillar, bowed, then opening the book, he began to read in his deep rich voice. He was reading the service for the burial of the dead.

When he had finished he lit three joss sticks which stood in the blue vase the servant had carried, and placed them before the pillar, kow-towing deeply. Then from his capacious sleeve he produced some strips of gold paper suitably inscribed, and these he burnt.

“I think those are all the gods I know,” said Yeh Ling, dusting his fingers daintily.

THE END

FOOTNOTE:

[A] “nose”--informer. Either one who betrays or who supplies information to a criminal.

TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES:

Italicized text is surrounded by underscores: _italics_.

Obvious typographical errors have been corrected.

Inconsistencies in hyphenation have been standardized.

Archaic or variant spelling has been retained.

New original cover art included with this eBook is granted to the public domain.