The Living Joss

CHAPTER XXV. IN THE TEMPLE

A PANEL arose in the corner of Kwa’s temple. A Chinaman staggered in, and the barrier dropped behind him. It was Chon Look. The usual placid face of the Buddhist was tinged with alarm.

Hurriedly, Chon Look raised the silent gong and made a soundless stroke. He waited for several seconds. The incense burners puffed, and the hideous form of Kwa appeared upon the huge taboret.

“Great Kwa!” Chon Look was gasping in his native tongue. “They are upon us! They are coming here!”

“Who is coming here?” questioned the Living Joss, in a crackled tone that seemed to indicate a knowledge of the answer.

“The police!” exclaimed Chon Look. “They came into the shrine. They began to question me. I managed to elude them; to come through the passage. They saw the entrance close behind me. They are coming—”

The Chinaman’s voice faltered in its singsong lingo as a panel opened in the other corner. In dashed Soy Foon. The barrier dropped, and the merchant stopped short as he bowed solemnly to Kwa.

“They are coming here, great Kwa!” announced Soy Foon. “The police have entered my shop! I barely managed to escape them!”

A distorted chuckle came from the bulging mouth of the Living Joss. With sweeps of his arms, the figure on the big taboret indicated both the barriers.

“Open them!” he ordered. “Stand there — each of you — to greet our guests! Request that their leaders enter to speak with Kwa!”

With startled glances, Chon Look and Soy Foon looked at one another. The commands of Kwa must be obeyed. Bowing to the Living Joss, whose insidious shape was wreathed by the curling smoke of incense, each of the men moved to his respective barrier. The panels raised.

THE glare of a powerful torch came from the passage that Chon Look had followed here. Joe Cardona, at the head of his men, saw the bowing form of Chon Look. The keeper of the shrine was holding out his arms and bowing in welcome.

“You may come here,” he announced in English. “My master will speak with you. But let there be a few — not many. Kwa will speak with the leaders alone.”

The unexpected welcome brought Cardona to a stop. With a gruff laugh, the detective signaled to Markham and two others.

“Come with me, Markham,” he ordered. “You fellows hold this panel open. The rest of you stay back — and pile in if there is any trouble.”

Peering through the opening, Cardona saw the seated shape of Kwa. Chon Look stood aside to admit Cardona and Markham.

Both detectives stared in amazement at the hideous face before them. They had not dreamed that such a monstrous being could exist, even in this hidden lair in the depths of curious Chinatown.

“Others will be here” — Kwa spoke in English, his tones crackling — “and it would be wise for us to be undisturbed. They are coming through the other passage—”

He indicated the door where Soy Foon was standing. Even now, shouts were echoing along the buried corridor, a proof that detectives had entered from the shop.

Cardona motioned to Markham to watch the seated figure on the taboret. Going to the spot where Soy Foon stood, the detective shouted along the passage. His cry received a response of recognition.

“Two of you come up,” called Joe. “Hold this panel. The rest of you stay back until needed.”

Two detectives appeared. The pair obeyed Cardona’s order. Joe Cardona joined Markham.

Together Cardona and his companion faced the Living Joss. The situation was all in favor of the sleuths.

They held revolvers. Their men were ready with weapons at the panels.

The word had passed back, and the entire squad was congregating through these passages. No avenue of escape lay open to Kwa, the Living Joss. Here, in the temple, Cardona was ready to end the fantastic drama as quickly as it had begun.

“Who are you?” quizzed the sleuth. “What is this place for? What have you done with Barton Schofield?”

“I am Kwa, the Living Joss.” Teeth snarled as the voice crackled. “I have nothing to do with your world. I am of China.”

“Koy Shan was a Chinaman,” retorted Cardona. “So was Chun Shi. Call yourself any name you wish — I know your true identity. You are not Chinese. Put up your arms” — the detective threatened with his revolver — “before I blast a bullet through your black heart — Doctor Ward Zelka!”

AS Cardona pronounced the name, an ugly snarl spat from the vile lips of Kwa. An expression of fiendish rage was manifest upon the evil face. Then came a crackling cry of challenge, as Kwa, raising his hands at Cardona’s command, hurled back his reply.

“You have come to my temple” — the tone was hideous. “You have discovered my identity. You seek to capture me. You want Barton Schofield? He is my prisoner. You will never find him — never — for first you must seize Kwa, the Living Joss. That you will never do!”

The ugly form leaned backward, with a gloating chuckle. The shift of weight brought an instantaneous result.

Puff!

Thick jets of smoke burst from the incense burners. Joe Cardona, quickly recovering from his surprise, fired his revolver into the enveloping cloud of white.

The smoke cleared away. The terrible figure of Kwa was gone! Cardona’s men were surging in from the passages to support their thwarted leader.

Chon Look and Soy Foon were prisoners; but Kwa was gone!

The Living Joss had vanished, but now a grim token of his evil might came in terrible retaliation against those who had come to capture Kwa. A pungent odor filled the temple. Detectives began to stagger. Joe Cardona saw Markham waver; then Joe, himself, felt the effects of an overwhelming gas.

The room rolled before his eyes. The star detective tottered and caught vainly at the taboret in front of him. Revolvers were clattering to the floor.

Death was entering this room, death in the form of a purplish vapor that was rising from the smoke-wreathed incense burners. Huddled on the floor, Joe Cardona felt the sickening sensation that comes as a forerunner to unconsciousness.

Kwa had departed; from somewhere outside this temple, he had launched a counterattack which was overpowering the huge squad of sleuths who had come here to snare him!

Death! That was Kwa’s decree to Joe Cardona and his men!