The Chinese Tapestry

CHAPTER XIII. AT THE MUSEUM

MARK ELDRETH came to his feet. Advancing, he extended his hand to Dave Kelroy. Today, Mark’s clasp was more spontaneous. His moonish face showed a smile that was one of genuine pleasure.

Turning, Mark introduced Dave to Dryer. The lawyer, in turn, made a brief introduction of Durling, without reference to the private investigator’s calling.

“Where have you been, Kelroy?” queried Mark. “We have been greatly concerned about your disappearance. Both Mr. Dryer and myself have read of the trouble in Chinatown. We were afraid that you might have met with foul play.”

“I did have trouble,” smiled Dave, “but all of it came before our meeting of two nights ago.”

“But you said nothing to me when you visited my house. Nothing, I mean, that indicated serious difficulties. You did act oddly; but—”

“You were busy. I was a bit dazed. Suppose I tell my story from the start.”

Nods of agreement. Dave spoke slowly and carefully. He told of his arrival in San Francisco and his visit to Ku Luan. Vividly he described the death of Ku Luan. He repeated the ancient Chinaman’s admonition regarding the teakwood box with the silver dragon. He added the statements wherein Ku Luan had told him to visit some relative of Tobias Eldreth.

Dave recounted the details of Wong Soy’s treachery; the attack made by thugs; the intervention of a mysterious fighter who had effected Dave’s own rescue. He explained that he had looked up Mark’s residence in the telephone book. So far, his story had been accurate.

Then, remembering Colin’s injunction, Dave began to deviate from the truth. He described his departure from Mark’s, but carefully avoided mention of Colin’s chance arrival. Instead, Dave spoke of wandering vaguely through the fog.

“I found a small hotel,” he stated. “I registered there under another name than my own. I slept late — almost all day, yesterday. When evening came, I realized that it was no time to call here, at Mr. Dryer’s office. So I remained in the hotel all evening.

“I was worried; for a while, I lacked courage to leave my hotel. At last, I decided to come here. That completes my story; but I come without the teakwood box. All that I have are the keys that Ku Luan gave me.”

MARK was the first to respond.

“I wish, Kelroy,” he stated, “that you had started to tell me your story two nights ago. I had no idea that you had been in such serious difficulty.”

“It wasn’t so bad,” rejoined Dave, with a smile. “The real misfortune was my failure to gain the teakwood box. Its contents must surely be vital to my future.”

“You have no idea what it could contain?” queried Dryer.

“I can only guess,” replied Dave. “You see, I lifted a few of the teakwood boxes, without finding the one I wanted. They were light; they were large enough to have contained some silk. Ku Luan sent me a little token of silk. That made me think that the boxes might hold silk also.”

Weldon Dryer was stroking his chin.

“Kelroy,” said the lawyer, “your father was a friend of Ku Luan; and so was Tobias Eldreth. I have known for years that some understanding existed between Ku Luan and Tobias Eldreth. I believe that this treasure exists. You say that you have some keys that Ku Luan gave you?”

“Right here,” replied Dave, producing the ring of keys, and handling them to the lawyer. “Huge keys, aren’t they?”

“Very large,” nodded Dryer. “Keep them, Kelroy. They might prove useful. Come. Let us drive out to the Oriental Museum. I should like to talk to the curator, Doctor Lestman.”

Dryer picked up the telephone and called a garage. He and the others went from the office. When they reached the street, a chauffeured limousine was awaiting them. The four men entered the car; it drove westward.

Dave Kelroy felt quite at ease in this company. Bright daylight made San Francisco a city of charm, with none of the sinister threat that Dave had encountered in the night-darkened streets of Chinatown. Dave was seated beside Mark; as they rode along, the lethargic man kept pointing out the sights. He indicated one building that caught Dave’s interest, when he heard Mark say proudly:

“That is the Pioneer Club.”

“You are a member there?” inquired Dave, casually.

“Yes,” returned Mark. “My grandfather was a member of the Pioneer Club; and I have preserved the family tradition.”

“Your cousin Colin, also?”

“Colin! The Pioneer Club means nothing to him. He was a member once; he was posted so often for non-payment of dues that they finally dropped him.”

“Very long ago?”

“At least three years.” Mark shook his head sorrowfully. “It was most unfortunate. Colin was the first member of the Eldreth family ever to be dropped from any club of standing.”

DAVE conversed mechanically after that. He was recalling Colin’s statements this very afternoon. Colin had said that he had gone to the Pioneer Club yesterday afternoon; that he had intended to drop in there again this evening.

Yet Mark’s testimony, in Dryer’s preserve, was proof that Colin had no entree to the Pioneer Club.

Suspicion began to dawn within Dave’s mind.

While Dave was still pondering on this situation, the limousine pulled up in front of a pretentious, granite-fronted building that faced the side slope of a hill. Dave alighted with the others; they entered the Oriental Museum.

Passing through a lobby that contained trophies of the Far East, they arrived at the curator’s office. Dave found himself being introduced to a long-faced, bald-headed man whom Dryer addressed as Doctor Lestman.

Head tilted to one side, the curator listened intently to Dave’s brief resume of his story as he had told it to Dryer and Mark. When Dave had finished, Lestman examined the large brass keys and shook his head.

Rising from his desk, he conducted the visitors through a long passage. A solemn-faced attendant followed them, and unlocked a large door to reveal a flight of stairs.

They stepped down into a square-shaped, windowless room, that measured thirty feet in each direction.

In the center was a large bronze statue, a representation of an ancient Chinese emperor. The figure was more than life size; its pedestal was firmly fitted into the stone floor of the room.

The walls were hung with Oriental tapestries; between these drapes were niches, set at intervals, each like a window-ledge projecting into a solid wall. The niches were four feet from the floor; they measured about three feet in height and two feet in width. Their domes were oval-shaped, in contrast to the flat-bottom ledges.

DAVE noted nine such alcoves, three in each wall as a person faced from the door. Each niche contained an exquisite statuette, a dozen inches tall. The central statuette was of gold; the others were of silver, but all had the same fine workmanship.

The large bronze statue in the center of the room was the main object, however, and it was the one to which Doctor Lestman pointed.

“The guardian statue,” explained the curator. “That was what Ku Luan called this figure of an early Manchu emperor. He brought the statue with him from China. I firmly believe that Ku Luan attached significance to this room, for he himself superintended its construction.

“And yet there is nothing here to aid us.” Dangling Dave’s keys, Lestman looked about the room; then toward the keys themselves. “There is no door, no opening, which any key might unlock. Particularly keys so large as these.”

He returned the keys to Kelroy. All the visitors had finished a brief inspection of the room. They returned to the office, followed by the poker-faced attendant, who stood and waited for Lestman’s order.

“Nothing more, Singledon,” said the curator, briskly. “You may go back to duty.” Then, when the attendant had gone, Lestman added to Dave: “These may interest you, Mr. Kelroy.”

From a desk drawer he produced a small Chinese box and took out a stack of long, square-shaped prayer papers. As he sorted them on the table, he pointed to the symbols that appeared upon them.

Dave was intent; these were the very types of prayer papers that Colin had mentioned. More than that, their symbols were identical with some that had appeared upon the tapestries that Dave had seen at last night’s auction.

“In the safe,” remarked Lestman, “I have one complete set of these prayer papers which are marked with the English meanings of the symbols. A few of these are marked — such as this green sun, which has the translation ‘happiness’ — but most of them are merely extras.”

Dave was looking through the prayer papers as the curator spoke. He stopped suddenly; he had come to one that bore a picture of a yellowish pagoda, like the golden weave upon the silken square that Ku Luan had sent him as a token. This prayer paper was marked with a word in English: “Welcome.”

Dave caught himself as he was about to speak. Idly, he tossed the paper back with the others and watched Lestman replace them in the box. Dave was thinking keenly and quickly.

He had gained an answer that he wanted. Should he ever gain the silver dragon teakwood box and find the tapestry within it, these prayer papers would serve as a translation to its message.

Colin had a set of the prayer papers. He had dropped mention of them after last night’s visit to Chinatown. Colin, Dave knew, had recognized that the symbols on certain tapestries could be translated.

But Colin, like Dave, had failed to see the all-important tapestry that was within the box with the silver dragon. The auctioneer had never had a chance to unfold that last sheet of heavy silk.

It was wise to make no comment in front of Dryer or Mark; for should he do so, Dave would have to explain the facts that he had hidden. He felt it policy to go through with the plan that he had started: to say nothing about his meeting with Colin and last night’s adventure in Chinatown.

Tomorrow, Dave decided, he could pay another visit to this museum and express interest in the prayer papers. Doctor Lestman would suspect nothing; Dave could then examine the paper squares for clues.

That one word ‘welcome,’ represented by the golden pagoda, was all that Dave had required as a clue.

Dave felt that Colin had tricked him. His only part was to continue that game, until he had gained the full confidence of these men who had shown him sympathy and friendship. After that had been attained, he could tell them his whole story.

TURNING from the desk, Dave smiled wearily as he faced Dryer. The old lawyer placed a sympathetic hand upon the young man’s shoulder. Mark shook his head slowly and sadly, to indicate that he, too, felt Dave’s disappointment.

“Never mind the condolences,” decided Dave. He was planning as he spoke. “I have a hunch that my teakwood box will show up somewhere. Suppose you drop me at my hotel, while we are driving down town.”

“Where are you stopping?” inquired Dryer.

“At the Thurbley,” replied Dave naming the first small hotel that came to his mind. “I don’t know the way to the hotel, from here; but the chauffeur can certainly find it.”

“Very well,” decided Dryer. “We shall drop you there, Kelroy. Keep in touch with me from day to day.”

It was nearly dusk as they left the museum. Singledon, the sour-faced attendant, closed the door after their departure. Peering through the crack, the man watched the four visitors enter the limousine.

Singledon looked about to make sure that Doctor Lestman was still in his office. Assured of that fact, the attendant indulged in an ugly smile.

Somewhere in the net that enmeshed Dave Kelroy, Singledon formed a link. Yet Dave — like others — had failed to guess that treachery might be present at the Oriental Museum.