the Chinese woman stepped forward and bowed.
"Please sit here on the divan, Miss Lx)ckhart. Li Ching will bring some refreshment."
She clapped her hands. Frederick helped her onto the silk-covered divan, and the old servant offered her a little porcelain cup containing some hot fragrant drink. She sipped it and felt her head clearing.
"What happened? How long was I—"
"You were affected by the smoke," said Frederick. "You must have inhaled more than you thought. But to go under all at once like that—isn't that very unusual, Madame Chang?"
"This is not her first encounter with the smoke," said the lady, still standing motionless in the gloom.
"I've never smoked opium in my life!" said Sally.
"It distresses me to contradict you, Miss Lockhart. But you have breathed the smoke before. I have seen ten thousand who have taken the smoke, and I know. What did you see in your vision?"
"A scene that—that's come to me many times. A nightmare. A man is being killed and . . . and two other men come along and . . . What can it be, Madame Chang? Am I going mad.^"
She shook her head.
"The power of the smoke is unbounded. It hides secrets of the past so well that the sharpest eyes in the brightest daylight would never find them; and then it reveals them all like buried treasure when they have been forgotten. What you saw is a memory, Miss Lockhart, not a dream."
"How can you be sure it's not a fantasy?" said Frederick. "Do you really mean to say that Sally's been under the influence of opium before, and that this nightmare of hers is a memory of the time when it happened? Isn't it possible that it's no more than a dream?"
"It is possible, Mr. Garland. But it is not what happened. I can see plainly what is invisible to you, just as a doctor can see plainly what is troubling his patient. There are a hundred and one signs by which these things may be read, but if you cannot read them, you will see nothing."
Her still figure spoke out of the gloom like the priestess of some ancient cult, full of authority and wisdom. Sally felt the urge to weep again.
She stood up.
"Thank you for explaining, Madame Chang," she said. "Am I . . . am I in danger from the drug? Now that I've taken it once, will I crave to take it again?"
"You have taken it twice, Miss Lockhart," said the lady. "If you are in danger, it is not from the drug. But you have the smoke in your nature now. It has revealed something you did not know; maybe you will crave the smoke not for its own sake, but for the sake of what it can show you.
She bowed, and Frederick, having paid for the opium, stood up to leave. Sally, who still felt dizzy, took the arm he offered, and after exchanging farewells, they left.
Outside it was nearly dark. The cold air was welcome to Sally, who breathed it in gratefully and soon found the pounding in her head diminish a little. Before long, they were in the Commercial Road, and the bustle of traffic, the gaslights, the glowing shop windows, made the opium den seem like a dream itself. But she still trembled, and her sides and back were wet with perspiration.
"Tell me about it," said Frederick.
He hadn't spoken since they left the place; he seemed to know when she wanted silence. / can trust him, she thought. So she told it all.
"But Frederick, the worst thing was . . ." She faltered.
"It's all right. You're safe now. But what was the worst thing.^"
"The man who sp)oke—I've heard his voice in my dreams so many times. But this time I recognized it. It was Major Marchbanks; and the other man who looked down at me—Frederick, he was my father! What is it all about? What can it mean?"
The Stereographic Repertory Company
When they returned from limehouse, sally went straight to bed and slept dreamlessly for a long time.
She awoke just after dawn. The sky was clear and blue; all the horrors of opium and murder seemed to have vanished with the night, and she felt lighthearted and confident.
Having dressed quickly and lit the kitchen
"Please sit here on the divan, Miss Lx)ckhart. Li Ching will bring some refreshment."
She clapped her hands. Frederick helped her onto the silk-covered divan, and the old servant offered her a little porcelain cup containing some hot fragrant drink. She sipped it and felt her head clearing.
"What happened? How long was I—"
"You were affected by the smoke," said Frederick. "You must have inhaled more than you thought. But to go under all at once like that—isn't that very unusual, Madame Chang?"
"This is not her first encounter with the smoke," said the lady, still standing motionless in the gloom.
"I've never smoked opium in my life!" said Sally.
"It distresses me to contradict you, Miss Lockhart. But you have breathed the smoke before. I have seen ten thousand who have taken the smoke, and I know. What did you see in your vision?"
"A scene that—that's come to me many times. A nightmare. A man is being killed and . . . and two other men come along and . . . What can it be, Madame Chang? Am I going mad.^"
She shook her head.
"The power of the smoke is unbounded. It hides secrets of the past so well that the sharpest eyes in the brightest daylight would never find them; and then it reveals them all like buried treasure when they have been forgotten. What you saw is a memory, Miss Lockhart, not a dream."
"How can you be sure it's not a fantasy?" said Frederick. "Do you really mean to say that Sally's been under the influence of opium before, and that this nightmare of hers is a memory of the time when it happened? Isn't it possible that it's no more than a dream?"
"It is possible, Mr. Garland. But it is not what happened. I can see plainly what is invisible to you, just as a doctor can see plainly what is troubling his patient. There are a hundred and one signs by which these things may be read, but if you cannot read them, you will see nothing."
Her still figure spoke out of the gloom like the priestess of some ancient cult, full of authority and wisdom. Sally felt the urge to weep again.
She stood up.
"Thank you for explaining, Madame Chang," she said. "Am I . . . am I in danger from the drug? Now that I've taken it once, will I crave to take it again?"
"You have taken it twice, Miss Lockhart," said the lady. "If you are in danger, it is not from the drug. But you have the smoke in your nature now. It has revealed something you did not know; maybe you will crave the smoke not for its own sake, but for the sake of what it can show you.
She bowed, and Frederick, having paid for the opium, stood up to leave. Sally, who still felt dizzy, took the arm he offered, and after exchanging farewells, they left.
Outside it was nearly dark. The cold air was welcome to Sally, who breathed it in gratefully and soon found the pounding in her head diminish a little. Before long, they were in the Commercial Road, and the bustle of traffic, the gaslights, the glowing shop windows, made the opium den seem like a dream itself. But she still trembled, and her sides and back were wet with perspiration.
"Tell me about it," said Frederick.
He hadn't spoken since they left the place; he seemed to know when she wanted silence. / can trust him, she thought. So she told it all.
"But Frederick, the worst thing was . . ." She faltered.
"It's all right. You're safe now. But what was the worst thing.^"
"The man who sp)oke—I've heard his voice in my dreams so many times. But this time I recognized it. It was Major Marchbanks; and the other man who looked down at me—Frederick, he was my father! What is it all about? What can it mean?"
The Stereographic Repertory Company
When they returned from limehouse, sally went straight to bed and slept dreamlessly for a long time.
She awoke just after dawn. The sky was clear and blue; all the horrors of opium and murder seemed to have vanished with the night, and she felt lighthearted and confident.
Having dressed quickly and lit the kitchen
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