The Fate Joss

CHAPTER V MOVES IN THE NIGHT

CHICHESTER LAUDRING now stepped slowly forward. His move was mechanical; his outstretched hand was trembling. Satsu, awed, made an effort to stop his master. Laudring kept straight ahead; quivering, Satsu followed.

Reaching the Fate Joss, Laudring lifted his hand and placed it upon the statue’s arm. He quaked momentarily; then the touch of the cold bronze restored his nerve. Turning, he beckoned to Satsu. The Korean arrived and also touched the idol.

“What — how” — Laudring was faltering, hoarsely — “what could have brought the Fate Joss here? It — it was in Clabb’s vault, Satsu! You — you saw it there!”

“I did,” nodded Satsu, solemnly. “It was in the vault, Mr. Laudring. Yet it is there no longer; it is here — with us.”

“With us,” agreed Laudring. His tone became almost furious. “Come back again to trouble me; to bring new danger! Why did it come here? Why did it not return to the temple of Je Ho?”

Half fearful, half furious, Laudring was attributing full power to the Fate Joss. He had derided its legend, less than a half hour ago; but this startling discovery of the idol itself had weakened him to the point where he was ready to accept the belief of the superstitious coolies who had aided him in the theft of the Joss.

Beads of sweat adorned Laudring’s brow. The laugh that he forced was hollow. The sound of his own attempted mirth made Laudring tremble once again. Then, steadying, he stepped back and studied the leering idol.

“Yes,” declared Laudring, slowly, “it is the Fate Joss. It has returned to me, Satsu, yet I am not ready to yield to superstition. At first, my fear overpowered my reason; but I have no cause to dread a sculptured mass of bronze.

“After all, Satsu” — Laudring’s chuckle was more genuine than his laugh — “after all, we carried the Fate Joss thousands of miles. We brought it to America; it did not harm us on the way. Why should we fear it now?”

Satsu managed a grin.

“Come,” decided Laudring. “Let us go upstairs. It is more pleasant there, Satsu.”

They left the cellar to the glistening idol and the burnished cannons. Laudring turned out the light when they reached the top of the stairs. He locked the door and pocketed the key. Satsu followed his master into the parlor.

“Whew!” exclaimed Laudring, mopping his brow with a silk handkerchief. “That was rather startling, Satsu — walking right in on the old Fate Joss itself, with his faithful War Dogs! It jolted me worse than the first time I saw them in the temple of Je Ho!

“We’ll have to talk this over, Satsu. We both know that those stories about the idol are the bunk. It can’t jump from Chicago to New York any more than it can fly back to Jehol. A smoke will help me out, Satsu.”

Laudring fumbled in his pocket for a cigar. Finding none, he arose from his chair and started for the stairs.

“I’ll get some panatelas from my bag,” he told Satsu. “Wait here until I return.”

AS Laudring’s footsteps faded on the stairway, Satsu stole swiftly from the parlor out into the back hall. He picked up the telephone and dialed a number. He gained a prompt response. Satsu spoke quickly, his voice low and tense.

“Doctor Tam? Good… This is Satsu… In New York. I had no time to write you, doctor. No, I had no chance to call… One moment, doctor. Let me tell you where I am…”

Satsu paused to listen. Hearing no sounds from upstairs, he placed his lips to the mouthpiece and carefully repeated the address of the house. That done, Satsu explained further.

“The house was given to Mr. Laudring,” he declared. “By his uncle… So he has told me; but maybe there is no such uncle… This is more important, doctor. The Fate Joss — it is here. In the cellar…

“Yes… Yes… I think he may listen, if I talk to him… Yes, Mr. Laudring did seem very surprised… Yes… I understand. I shall do as you have told… But if—”

Satsu paused abruptly. He could hear Laudring on the second floor. Hanging up the receiver, the Korean started for the library. He had delayed too long, however, for he encountered Laudring at the bottom of the stairs.

“Where were you, Satsu?” demanded Laudring, suspiciousness in his gaze. “I told you to remain in the parlor.”

“I was in the kitchen, sir,” returned the servant. “Looking to find if food was there.”

“I thought I heard your voice.”

“I was humming, sir, as I often do.”

Laudring paused, puffing a freshly lighted cigar. He decided to take the servant’s explanation. He waved Satsu into the parlor; following the fellow, Laudring resumed his easy chair.

“I don’t want the Fate Joss,” he asserted, in a troubled tone. “What am I going to do about it, Satsu?”

“You could leave this place, sir,” replied the Korean. “The Fate Joss could remain.”

“But the house is mine.”

“Are you sure, sir?”

“That’s a point, Satsu. Maybe it isn’t my house at all. I never knew I had an Uncle Felix. I never heard of this lawyer chap, Boford. I’ve a mind to dig out of the place.”

“That would be wise, Mr. Laudring.”

Laudring considered plans; then nodded slowly.

“We’ll stay here tonight,” he decided. “Tomorrow we can leave. We’ll never open the boarded windows. That’s settled, Satsu. But if Boford should come here—”

Laudring broke off, startled by an unexpected sound. A bell had begun to clang. Someone was at the front door. Laudring stared at Satsu; the servant shook his head.

“We won’t answer it,” decided Laudring. “Whoever it is will go away.” The bell clanged anew.

“Persistent beggar,” remarked Laudring, nervously. “Maybe he saw a glimmer of the lights. Perhaps — ah! I have it! Our visitor must be Boford. Answer the door, Satsu.”

THE Korean hesitated. Laudring gestured impatiently, as the bell jangled a third summons. Satsu went to the front door and unlocked it; Laudring, coming from the parlor, was just in time to see the servant admit a sallow-faced man, whose pointed mustache and dapper manner gave him a harmless air.

“Mr. Laudring?” inquired the visitor, in a smooth tone.

“Yes,” replied Laudring. “Are you Mr. Boford?”

“Boford? No. My name is Roucard. Raymond Roucard. I came to see you on business.”

Laudring looked puzzled; but he conducted the arrival into the parlor and offered a cigar, which Roucard accepted.

“You have come regarding this house?” queried Laudring.

“This house?” echoed Roucard. Then, with a laugh: “Certainly not! It was only by accident that I learned you were here. I came to talk about the Fate Joss.”

Laudring stared. Roucard laughed.

“Come, Mr. Laudring!” insisted the dapper visitor. “I am not the only one who has heard of the Fate Joss that you have tried to sell everywhere. I learned of your white elephant. I came here to take the idol off your hands.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that I am willing to accept the risk of owning the Fate Joss. A grave risk, too, Mr. Laudring. If you were acquainted with conditions in Chinatown, you would understand.”

“Conditions in Chinatown?”

Roucard nodded as he settled back to puff his cigar. He flashed a glance at Satsu who was standing in the doorway, then concentrated on Laudring.

“It may mean death to own the Fate Joss,” pronounced Roucard, solemnly. “Terrible death at the hands of aroused Chinese. They know that the temple of Je Ho has been desecrated. They are aroused to fever pitch.”

“My name?” questioned Laudring, nervously. “Do they know it?”

“Yes. If they knew you owned the Fate Joss, they would murder you. You will be doing yourself a favor if you turn the idol over to me. It must be removed from here at once.”

There was a cold decisiveness in Roucard’s tone. Laudring trembled. This information, coming so close upon the mysterious return of the Fate Joss, was something that created real cause for fear.

“Where is the Fate Joss?” inquired Roucard. “In the cellar of this house?”

Laudring nodded in spite of himself. Roucard shook his head seriously.

“Most dangerous,” he declared. “My word, man! Your life is in immediate jeopardy! You must get that idol out of here! There is no time to lose. Suppose spies should come here to search—”

“But how can I remove it?” broke in Laudring, his voice a quaver. “The Joss weighs half a ton!”

“I can help you,” assured Roucard. “Come. Let me see the Fate Joss.”

Laudring arose and led the way to the cellar door. His hand trembled as he unlocked the barrier. He went downstairs with Roucard and Satsu behind him. They found the Fate Joss glaring from its central position in the cellar.

ROUCARD surveyed the idol curiously. Looking beyond it, he spied something that attracted his attention — a large door at the extreme rear of the cellar. Moving there, Roucard tried to open the door; then gave it a sidewise push. The door slid back. Beyond it lay an underground passage.

“Most amazing!” exclaimed Roucard, turning to Laudring and Satsu, who had joined him. “This must lead to the house on the rear street.”

“I wonder who lives there?” questioned Laudring.

“No one,” responded Roucard, with a knowing smile. “That whole block is untenanted. The buildings are due to be torn down within a month. I recognized the block when I was driving past.”

“Then this passage will serve us as an outlet?”

“An excellent one! I can bring the truckmen through from the rear street. In fact, they are parked there already, because I did not want them to be seen outside your house.”

Laudring gaped in astonishment. He could not understand how this stranger had found him so quickly; furthermore, he was amazed to learn that Roucard had already provided for the removal of the Fate Joss.

Laudring had experienced a double shock tonight. First, the discovery of the Fate Joss, the jinx from which he had freed himself; second, Roucard’s warning that the threat of vengeful Chinese might strike at any time. Doubly troubled, Laudring was ready to accept any suggestion.

Satsu understood his master’s temperament. The Korean decided to intervene. In so doing, he chose the worst course that he could possibly have taken.

“Remember, sir,” said Satsu, “we are leaving here. It is best to keep the Fate Joss until tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?” echoed Laudring. “Have you gone crazy, Satsu? Who asked for your opinion? Leave us! Go upstairs until I call you.”

Satsu did not immediately obey. Laudring clenched his fists and glared in fury. Knowing that further argument would be useless, Satsu departed from the cellar.

Roucard shrugged his shoulders and strolled toward one of the coal bins; peering into it, he called to Laudring.

“We’re in luck, old man!” exclaimed Roucard. “Look at this pile of canvas and these old boxes. We can cover up the Fate Joss and have the truckmen crate it. They’ll never know what it is!”

“The War Dogs, too,” added Laudring. “Take them with the Joss.”

“They’re cannons, aren’t they?” queried Roucard, in feigned surprise. “Regular mortars that have been plugged. Yes, they must go, too.”

FEVERISHLY, Laudring brought out stacks of grimy canvas. Roucard found some pieces of rope. Together they began to cover the Fate Joss and the War Dogs.

While Laudring was completing the lashing, Roucard hurried out through the rear passage. When he returned, he was accompanied by half a dozen husky truckmen. Roucard pointed out the boxes. With hammers, the truckmen knocked out ends and sides, to make them into improvised crates.

With Roucard in charge, the crew tilted the heavy Fate Joss, which made an odd sight, covered from top to bottom with its canvas swaths. As the bottom of the pedestal was hoisted, Laudring covered it with another sheet of cloth. The truckmen made a quick job of the crating; then raised the covered Joss aboard a pair of rollers that they had brought with them.

“They’ll come back for the cannons,” remarked Roucard, as he and Laudring watched the six men roll the Fate Joss out through the passage to the house on the other street. “We may as well go upstairs.”

“That passage puzzles me,” said Laudring. “Why should this house be connected with the one in back?”

“Some one probably started to make apartments of them,” decided Roucard. “Planning a central-heating system. I suppose we would find several connected cellars hereabouts.”

Satsu was in the hallway when the two arrived. The Korean had been making another telephone call; but he had long since finished. He made no comment when Laudring and Roucard arrived. He watched the two shake hands, then opened the front door to allow Roucard’s departure.

Chichester Laudring showed relief. He found a bolt on the front door and pressed it shut, not trusting to the lock alone. He told Satsu to accompany him to the cellar. They arrived there to find vacancy. The canvassed War Dogs had followed The Fate Joss.

Laudring closed the sliding door. He smiled to see that it was equipped with heavy inner bolts. He closed them, thus cutting off this avenue of entrance. Followed by Satsu, the ex-owner of the Fate Joss went upstairs.

“I need sleep, Satsu,” announced Laudring. “Here are the keys. You may keep them. We shall leave this house tomorrow. What a weird adventure this has been! I’m thankful that fellow Roucard showed up. He’s welcome to the Fate Joss — and the War Dogs, as well. My conscience is clear. He knows the risk himself.”

Satsu waited until his weary master had gone upstairs. Again the Korean went to the telephone and put in a final call to Doctor Roy Tam. Instructions must have followed Satsu’s statement of details, for the Korean concluded by acknowledging words that came across the wire.

The call ended, Satsu hung up the receiver and turned out the lights. He went into the parlor and paused there; his broad, yellow face showing an odd, wise grin. Satsu turned out the last light. Complete darkness reigned within the boarded-up house — a darkness that was silent save for the sound of Satsu’s creeping footsteps.

Raymond Roucard had made good his boast to Shan Kwan. Smoothly, cagily, Roucard had gained the Fate Joss and shipped it to the appointed spot. But even before Roucard had visited the old house, Doctor Roy Tam had learned that the Fate Joss was there.

ELSEWHERE in Manhattan, a truck was rumbling southward beneath the structure of an elevated. Aboard it lay the Fate Joss and the guardian cannons, so swathed that Roucard’s truckmen could not guess what the bulky objects were. Behind that truck was a following coupe, from which two yellow faces peered.

Spies sent by Doctor Tam had reached the mystery house before the truck’s departure. Calling back to their chief, they had received new orders, based on later word from Satsu. These Chinamen were trailing the truck to its appointed destination, the courtyard in back of the old Calumet Theater.

Delayed delivery had been a part of Roucard’s scheme. An interval between the dropping of the crates and their collection. That time space was designed to prevent a meeting between Roucard’s hired truckmen and the Chinese carriers whom Shan Kwan would later order to pick up the Fate Joss and the cannons.

Unknown to either Roucard or the mandarin, that time period was to offer an opportunity to Doctor Roy Tam. He, like Roucard and Shan Kwan, had willing workers who would do his bidding. Strange might be the travels of the Fate Joss before it reached the brass-walled room that Shan Kwan had provided for its reception.