Page:Weird Tales Volume 7 Number 6 (1926-06).djvu/8

"Of course you haven't been appraised. Only articles of worth or beauty are appraised."

"Ouch!" cried June, shaking her father's arm. "That's a cruel one. You know that I'm———"

"Worthless," finished Mr. Hubbard. "And blemished."

"Ah, the blemish! The fatal blemish!" June attempted to strike a dramatic pose again but her father marched her along too rapidly. "Bear! Well, anyway, the fatal blemish! Only it isn't fatal here in Chinatown. Not even Chinese eyes could possibly see that there's a queer mark on my foot. No sir! Besides, the Chinese eyes aren't sharp at all; they're sleepy, sodden eyes, morning-after eyes, which wouldn't show interest in Venus herself."

"Perhaps, perhaps," Mr. Hubbard agreed. "Of course, all the trash about the fearful, mysterious Chinese character is exaggerated. It's our great American superstitious fear of the unknown. On the other hand the Orientals are strange peoples; their thousands of years of static civilization have made them introspective, with strange desires and worships and———"

"For further references see Stoddard's Lectures," June advised, laughingly. "Dad, I didn't come down here to hear an address on China. I came for thrills. As there don't seem to be any thrills running around loose, I'm going to make some." Her laughter rippled out as she noted apprehension cloud her father's face. "No, I'm not planning to kill a Chinese nor to rob a bank! Haven't you been with me enough to know that a woman's idea of a thrill is to buy something pretty and wildly extravagant? Let's try one of these dark little stores which promise hidden riches! Come on!"

Impulsively she darted into a narrow-doored store, pulling her father after her. Over the door a tiny bell tinkled; simultaneously a Chinese youth pushed aside silken curtains at the back end of the shop and stood, a vivid figure against the red background. Father and daughter hesitated, checked not so much by the sudden appearance of the gold-and-green-clad Oriental as by a sudden sickish-sweet, softly acrid odor which saturated the room. Teak and sandalwood, incense, and back of it all a smothering mist, exotic and nameless—these were combined in the fragrant yet oppressing cloud which settled over the two Americans.

The Chinese youth stood motionless against his gorgeous background; yet his presence seemed to advance down the narrow aisle until it forced itself into intimacy with the Americans.

June Hubbard felt a thrill; there was no doubt of it, for she caught her father's arm impulsively. Even Mr. Hubbard seemed disturbed; involuntarily his eyes turned to the door as though ascertaining that the way of escape was still open. Then June laughed, a tinkling laugh which vibrated gongs and bells and copper kettles and filled the narrow store with smothered sound. "Dad, how wonderful!" There was a forced, false note in her enthusiasm. Her voice seemed to be gathered into the folds of the red and gold silks which lined the wall; it lost its exuberant note. When June spoke again it was in a lower tone.

"There are wonderful things here," she said, pointing down the narrow aisle flanked on one side by mandarin coats, kimonas, tapestries, on the other by cases of beads, carved ivory, jade, statuettes of Buddha, the Three Wise Monkeys of many sizes and materials. She advanced to the nearest showcase. "See those dear monkeys! Their hands over their eyes, their ears, their mouths. 'See