CHAPTER IV THE GOLDEN TEMPLE
Why did Petite Jeanne sleep all day to haunt strange places in the night?Who can say? Why do certain birds deep in the forest sing only at night?Why do all manner of wild things choose the night for their joyousfrolics? Jeanne was as wild by nature as any of these, for had she notlived the very early years of her life with the gypsies? And is it not atnight that the gypsies dance, sing and tell fortunes round the camp fire?
She did not leave her room, this little French girl, until night shadowshad fallen and automobile lights like twin stars were blinking their waydown the boulevard.
When she did leave she carried a well filled laundry bag. Yet, strange tosay, she did not carry this bag to a laundry depository, but to a hoteltwo blocks away. Here she entrusted its care to a smiling check boy. Theboy's smile broadened when she slipped him a bright new dollar bill witha whispered,
"I may not call for it for oh, so long. You keep it till I come. Yes?"
The boy grinned and nodded. Such occurrences were not new to him. Manyyoung ladies entrusted their secrets to him. "But this girl," he toldhimself, "is different. I wonder--"
He had little time to wonder. He thrust Jeanne's bag far back in a deeprecess and straightway forgot it; which is, after all, just the properthing for a check boy to do.
Jeanne did not leave the hotel at once; instead, she took the elevator tothe top floor, then walking to a window, looked away toward the lakefront.
Though she had looked upon the scene before, she could not suppress a lowexclamation of awe: "Magnificent!"
"The city of a million lights!" she murmured.
It was all of that and more, this great Century of Progress. And nightwas its time of entrancing beauty. Tall towers glowing like shafts ofwhite hot metal, great structures changing color like giant chameleons,now pink, now yellow, now pale blue, fountains of fire leaping up fromthe gleaming surface of the lagoon.
"It is like the end of the world," she murmured. "All is on fire."
To her ears, like the roar of a distant cataract, came the sound of itall. She seemed to catch the whistle of rocket cars as, gliding oversteel cables, they carried screaming joy riders through space to thedistant island.
"How marvelous it all is!" she murmured again. "To think that only ashort time ago there was no island, that ships came to anchor where nowten thousand children play!"
But Jeanne's eyes did not linger on the Sky Way where rocket cars glidednor the waters where fiery fountains played. Her eyes had come to rest ata spot close to Soldiers' Field where a low roof cast back a gleam ofgold.
"The Golden Temple of Jehol from that enchanting land of mystery, China!"she whispered. "I shall go there to-night. It may be that there I shalllearn much regarding that very curious chest, those banners and thatancient three-bladed dagger with all those jewels in the handle.
"It may be!" She shuddered in spite of herself. "It just may happen thatthere I shall find the little Chinaman with those so very long ears. Andif I find him? Ah, then what shall I do?"
She was not one to worry much about what should be done under certaincircumstances, this little French girl. Inspiration of the moment shouldguide her. Tripping lightly to the elevator door, she went speedingdownward and was soon on her way to the Golden Temple of Jehol.
On entering the Golden Temple Jeanne found it all but deserted.
"Ah!" she breathed. A spell seemed to take possession of her. She wishedto turn about and go away from this place of mellow lights and silence;yet some mysterious power held her.
Before her, seeming alive in that uncertain light, a fat Buddha sat andsmiled. Beyond were all manner of curious objects, trumpets three yardslong, miniature pagodas, images of gold and bronze, a great bellsuspended from a frame.
"This," she whispered, "is a Chinese Temple. Every part of it,twenty-eight thousand bits of wood, was made in China."
As if taking up the story, the low melodious voice of a mandarin talkingto three ladies in black said:
"Everything you see here came from the temples of China. Everything. Theyare all very old and quite priceless."
Jeanne moved toward him. "This," he went on, appearing to see her out ofthe corner of his eye, "is a prayer wheel. Inside this wheel, which is,you might say, like a brass drum, are bits of paper. On these are writtenone hundred million prayers. See!" He spoke to Jeanne. "Turn the handle."
The girl obeyed.
"Now," he smiled, "you have said one hundred million prayers. Is it notvery easy?"
Jeanne favored him with one of her rare smiles. This chubby mandarin inhis long robe could help her. "He is not that one who stole my dagger,"she assured herself. "His ears are quite short. He--"
Her thoughts broke short off. Her eyes opened wide.
"Where--where did that come from?" She was pointing to a three-bladedknife lying on a low bench.
"This," the mandarin went on in his slow, melodious voice, "like all therest, came from a temple. It is very old."
"May--may I see it?" Jeanne's heart throbbed painfully.
"Oh, yes, you may see."
He held it out to her.
She did not take it. "That," she said more to herself than to him, "isnot the one. There are no jewels in the hilt, only gold."
"No jewels?" The small eyes narrowed.
"You have seen one set with jewels, diamonds and rubies?"
"Only yesterday."
"And where is it now?" The mandarin strove in vain to maintain hisOriental calm.
"Who knows?" Jeanne shrugged her shoulders. She had said too much. "A--aChinaman had it. He is gone. I know not where."
The mandarin went on telling in his slow way of the treasures in thatgolden temple; yet it was plain that his mind was not upon the ancientbell, the miniature pagoda nor the smiling Buddha. He was thinking ofthat knife with a jeweled handle, Jeanne was sure of that.
"I wonder how much he knows," she thought to herself. "Could he help usfind that long-eared one? I am sure of it. And if he did? Ah, well, whatthen?"
In the end she decided that she dared not trust him, at least not yet.
For some time she lingered in that place of soft lights and silentfootsteps.
When at last with a sigh she prepared to drag herself out where humanityflowed like a great river, she dropped a coin in the mandarin's hand andwhispered:
"I will return again, and yet again."
"Y-e-s." The mandarin's tone was barely audible. "Those who reveal darksecrets are often richly rewarded. It is written in a book. You have saidone hundred million prayers. You will not forget."
"I will not forget."
She was about to leave the place when again her mind received a shock.Because the light was dim, she had not observed until now that the wallswere hung with banners.
"They are like those in the chest!" she told herself with a sudden shock."They belong to some temple. Were they stolen from a temple, all those,the knife, the bell, the banners? And did the thief, after bringing themto America, fear to claim them? Is that why we were able to buy them atthat auction house where unclaimed goods are sold?
"Ah, yes, it must be so! There was an Oriental bidding against us. Somestrange persons came and dragged him away, the secret police, I am sure."
She was trembling from head to foot. What strange Oriental mystery hadcaught her in its web? What intrigue had she but half unearthed?
"Bah!" She took a strong grip on herself. "It is nothing. This place, itgives me strange ideas."
"These banners on the wall?" She spoke in the casual tone of aninquisitive visitor. "Are they also very old?"
"Many are very old." The mandarin was smiling again. "These were made byrich Chinese ladies who wish to have the gods be very good to them. Theyare all made by hand, embroidered with gold and silver thread. Worth manydollars, very, very many dollars, each one of these."
Jeanne asked not another question. She had had enough for one night.Neve
r before had she so wished herself in the outer air.
She was nearing the door when a voice she had not heard before said:
"Would you like a book telling of the Golden Temple?"
She turned quickly to find herself looking into the face of a man, and atonce she knew that here was a person well worth knowing. He was large,well built, muscular. His face was brown, the brown of one who lives inthe out-of-doors. His hat was drawn low over his eyes, yet he did notinspire her with fear.
"Y-yes, I would like a book." She held out a quarter. "Do you knowChina?"
"I was born there." The man spoke in the steady, even tone of the whiteman who has lived long in strange lands. "Until six weeks ago I lived inChina."
"Then--then perhaps you can help me."
"Gladly. How?"
"An--another time." Once more Jeanne felt she had spoken too soon.
Without a backward look, she left the place to lose herself in themerry-mad throng that, whirling and swirling like autumn leaves caught ina gust of wind, revolved about the entrance to the million dollar Skyway.