"Yes, it is you who will at last give her soul and her beautiful body
to me," he repeated. "Come. I will show you how--and why!"
He glided toward the dais. His hand touched a panel. It opened and in
the opening he turned about and waited for Keith.
"Come!" he said.
Keith, drawing a deep breath, his soul ready for the shock, his body
ready for action, followed him.
XXII
Into a narrow corridor, through a second door that seemed made of
padded wool, and then into a dimly lighted room John Keith followed
Kao, the Chinaman. Out of this room there was no other exit; it was
almost square, its ceiling was low, its walls darkly somber, and that
life was there Keith knew by the heaviness of cigarette smoke in the
air. For a moment his eyes did not discern the physical evidence of
that life. And then, staring at him out of the yellow glow, he saw a
face. It was a haunting, terrible face, a face heavy and deeply lined
by sagging flesh and with eyes sunken and staring. They were more than
staring. They greeted Keith like living coals. Under the face was a
human form, a big, fat, sagging form that leaned outward from its seat
in a chair.
Kao, bowing, sweeping his flowing raiment with his arms, said, "John
Keith, allow me to introduce you to Peter Kirkstone.
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