The Chinaman raised the palms of both hands at them. "Not yet," he said.
Then he looked at the Coroner. "You are master. Will you not prevent
them?"
The Coroner motioned the constables back. "All right," he said. "You seem
to speak good English."
"I come from England-from Oxford University," answered the Chinaman with
dignity. "I have learned English for many years. I am the son of Duke Ki.
I came to see my uncle, the brother of Duke Ki. He is making sacrifice
before you take him."
"Well, I'm blasted," said Jonas Billings from the crowd. "Chinese dukes,
eh! What's it all about?"
"Reg'lar hocus-pocus," remarked the vagabond brother of Rigby the
chemist.
At that moment little coloured lights suddenly showed in the darkness of
the root-house, and there was the tinkling of a bell. Then a voice seemed
calling, but softly, with a long, monotonous, thrilling note.
"Many may not come," said the Chinaman at the door to the Coroner, as he
turned and entered the low doorway.
A minute afterwards the two constables held back the crowd from the
doorway of the root-house, from the threshold of which a few wooden steps
descended to the ground inside.
A strange sight greeted the eyes of those permitted to enter.
The root-house had been transformed. What had been a semi-underground
place composed of scantlings, branches of trees and mother earth, with a
kind of vaulted roof, had been made into a sort of Chinese temple.
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