Out of Context

Tales of Chinatown
Sax Rohmer

His knees were drawn up to his chin, and his head so compressed upon them that little of his features could be seen.

“It is Kwen Lung!” murmered Ma Lorenzo, standing with clasped hands and wild eyes over by the window. “Kwen Lung–and I amglad he is dead!”

Such a note of hatred came into her voice as I had never heard in the voice of any woman.

“He is vile, a demon, a mocking cruel demon! Long, long years ago I would have killed him, but always I was afraid. I tell you everything, everything. This is how he comes to be dead. The little one”–again her voice changed and a note of almost grotesque tenderness came into it–“the lotus-flower, that is his own daughter’s child, flesh of his flesh, he keeps a prisoner as the women of China are kept, up there”–she raised one fat finger aloft–“up above. He does not know that someone comes to see her–someone who used to come to smoke but who gave it up because he had looked into the dear one’s eye. He does not know that she goes with me to see her man. Ah! we think he does know!I–I arrange it all. A week ago they were married. Tuesday night, when Kwen Lung die, I plan for her to steal away for ever, for ever.”

Tears now were running down the woman’s fat cheeks, and her voice quivered emotionally.