Page:Weird Tales Volume 7 Number 6 (1926-06).djvu/10

Chinese man pushed forward the teak chair and led the wondering June back to it.

Mr. Hubbard was a little angry, a little uneasy, but mostly determined not to make himself ridiculous. "All right, June," he said bruskly. "Only hurry!" He pulled out his watch, making a pretense of being pressed for time.

"Just one minute," the old image of Buddha insisted. Already he was pulling at June's loose shoe.

June jerked her right foot from his hand and extended the other one. "This foot, please," she said, feeling that in some way the birthmark on her foot was provocative of danger.

"Yes, miss," the old Oriental agreed, but he grasped the right foot and pulled off the shoe. It was only a fraction of a second before June jerked her foot away from him and jumped to her feet, tense and angry, but in that half-second the old Chinese fingers had pressed the stocking tight against June's instep so that the blemish was clearly outlined. It was a queerly shaped mark, a tapering rectangle running down her foot and ending in a jagged flare at each lower edge.

Mr. Hubbard had watched the Chinese man's sudden move; now he grasped the old man by the shoulders and pushed him roughly aside. He fell to the floor. From there he chanted guttural excited words to the old man behind the chair.

"Shut up!" shouted Mr. Hubbard, advancing threateningly. "Another word and I'll kick in your yellow ribs!" But still the rush of Chinese words went on, broken by exclamations from the wizened man who cowered behind the chair. Mr. Hubbard, unable to kick a man who was down, turned his attention to June, who was frantically pulling on her shoe. "Come on, June! I don't like this devil-chatter!"

In a moment the two were outside, with the immediate memory of a bell tinkling over their heads and back of that the whole grotesque, inexplainable scene in the Chinese shop.

"Ho!" Mr. Hubbard took a deep breath of the fresh air which swept up Grant Street from the bay. "That tastes good after that stuffiness in there! Now what the devil———"

"Don't swear, dad! But it was an awful sensation, feeling those snaky fingers on my foot. Why do you suppose the whole pack went crazy over that mark? Or was that it, do you suppose?"

"Yes, it was the mark, I believe. It meant something to those fanatics. They were not pure Chinese but Hillmen, I take it, from their reference to the Gobi and the Hill Country. In that country there are strange worships. I believe they have foot fetishes. You know, June, the foot as a fetish is one of the oldest of all———"

"Now, dad, don't stop to give another page from the encyclopedia. Let's get away from here! Ugh! Those fingers!"

Father and daughter walked as rapidly as the crowded sidewalks of Grant Street would permit. It was almost dark now. Already street lights were flickering and from many windows came the reflected glare of polished wood, brass, shiny silk. June held her furs close to her face. No ridicule now of the "leering, luring eyes"! Those old graven faces, the frozen expression of the Chinese youth when he discovered the birthmark, the guttural mouthings of the old man on the floor,—these had all affected her deeply. Like all buoyant natures, when she was not radiantly happy she was almost melancholy. Her father, too, seemed uneasy.

The two were silent as they left