“In common with the lesser deities,” he continued, “our Lady of the Poppies is exacting.  After a protracted sojourn at her shrine, so keen are the delights which she opens up to her worshipers, that a period of lassitude, of exhaustion, inevitably ensues.  This precludes the proper worship of the goddess in the home, and necessitates—­I say necessitates the presence, in such a capital as London, of a suitable Temple.  You have the honor, Soames, to be a minor priest of that Temple!”

Soames brushed his dyed hair with his fingers and endeavored to look intelligent.

“A branch establishment—­merely a sacred caravanserai where votaries might repose ere reentering the ruder world,” continued Gianapolis—­“has unfortunately been raided by the police!”

With that word, police, he seemed to come to earth again.

“Our arrangements, I am happy to say, were such that not one of the staff was found on the premises and no visible link existed between that establishment and this.  But now let us talk about yourself.  You may safely take an evening off, I think"...

He scrutinized Soames attentively.

“You will be discreet as a matter of course, and I should not recommend your visiting any of your former haunts.  I make this proposal, of course, with the full sanction of Mr. King.”

The muscles of Soames’ jaw tightened at sound of the name, and he avoided the gaze of the crossed eyes.

“And the real purpose of my visit here this morning is to acquaint you with the little contrivance by which we ensure our privacy here.  Once you are acquainted with it, you can take the air every evening at suitable hours, on application to Mr. Ho-Pin.”

Soames coughed dryly.

“Very good,” he said in a strained voice; “I am glad of that.”

“I knew you would be glad, Soames,” declared the smiling Gianapolis; “and now, if you will step this way, I will show you the door by which you must come and go.”  He stood up, then bent confidentially to Soames’ ear.  “Mr. King, very wisely,” he whispered, “has retained you on the premises hitherto, because some doubt, some little doubt, remained respecting the information which had come into the possession of the police.”

Again that ominous word!  But ere Soames had time to reflect, Gianapolis led the way out of the room and along the matting-lined corridor into the apartment of the golden dragon.  Soames observed, with a nervous tremor, that Mr. Ho-Pin sat upon one of the lounges, smoking a cigarette, and arrayed in his usual faultless manner.  He did not attempt to rise, however, as the pair entered, but merely nodded to Gianapolis and smiled mirthlessly at Soames.

They quitted the room by the door opening on the stone steps—­the door by which Soames had first entered into that evil Aladdin’s cave.  Gianapolis went ahead, and Soames, following him, presently emerged through a low doorway into a concrete-paved apartment, having walls of Portland stone and a white-washed ceiling.  One end consisted solely of a folding gate, evidently designed to admit the limousine.