Screenland (Nov 1941-Apr 1942)

with your money or your time but I always had an instinct against bringing you here and I don't want to ignore my feelings any further. In a little while we'U talk this over and probably laugh about it." He clasped the necklace around her neck and kissed her, looking deep into her eyes as if he were trying to read her heart. But it was hidden from him and his growing anxiety deepened as he drove her to the air field. The first premature firecracker celebrating the coming New Year exploded as her plane soared away and again lie frowned as he remembered the strange invitation he had received from the woman he was dispossessing the next day, the woman his associates had warned him against interfering with. Could there be any connection between them, the Chinese woman and the necklace and his daughter? Maybe, he decided, he'd better accept that invitation after all. The other guests had already come to Mother Gin Sling's when he arrived the next evening, all of them uncomfortable and barely managing to conceal their surprise at finding the others there. Only Mother Gin Sling remained wholly composed as she led the way into the dining room, motioning them to sit at the places their caricatured images designated. Sir Guy started when he saw the doll at the place still vacant, that doll so undoubtedly meant for Poppy, its broken head lolling grotesquely as it guarded the empty seat. Then he straightened as he saw the little chorus girl he had met in Singapore staring at him and his face whitened as he saw Omar take his place beside her and recognized in him the man who had come to him with Poppy's necklace. So there had been a connection, then. He felt almost sick in his relief that Poppy was safely in Singapore. Then as the appetizers were brought in Mother Gin Sling looked up brightly. "I have also not ignored an appetizer for my male guests." She smiled as two servants drew aside the heavy curtains and flung open the window. Outside of it were hung a row of cages and in each of them sat huddled a pretty girl, almost naked. "We're going to auction off the girls to the junkmen," she laughed. "Once in a while they have to replenish their flower boats, you know." Then as the crowd shouted hilariously from below, she smiled. "You understand, of course, this is staged purely for tourists. Shanghai has to live up to its reputation." Lady Blessington laughed hysterically and Mother Gin Sling gave her an amused glance before she looked down the long table at Sir Guy. "I am particularly happy to see you here tonight. You have, of course, been in China before ?" "Yes, but mostly in the north." He studied her as if he were trying to find a clue to her personality, aware of the aristocratic accent which clung to her words. "You too come from the north, don't you ?" "My people were Manchus," Mother Gin Sling said and some of the old pride of race clung to her voice. "I left a long time ago. Then I was washed ashore here, picked up on the Shanghai water front. Mr. Howe took me in tow." She smiled at the comprador. "He saw me stealing some food and liked me. Later he gave me enough to establish this . . . gallery." "It was a good investment." The comprador chuckled. "You paid it back a hundred fold." "I always pay my debts ... a hundred fold," Mother Gin Sling said softly. Suddenly the Marchesa di Mondragone looked frightened. She rose uncertainly, apologizing for feeling ill, for having to leave, but Mother Gin Sling stopped her with a look. "Sit down," she ordered. "You might become more ill if I should recall to your mind a little incident that took place in Rio five years ago !" The Marchesa sank back into her chair and now it was Lady Blessington who looked frightened as she glanced at her hostess' set face. Then she laughed a little uncertainly as she turned to the comprador. Sir Guy rose then. "I take it, Mother Gin Sling," he said casually, "there's a reason which compels each of your guests to stay here. But there's none which can make me stay." "Isn't there, Mr. Dawson?" she laughed. And then her eyes blazed with hatred. "Look at me! Is my face so changed that you no longer know me, or do all Chinese girls look alike to you ? Look at me closely. The only mask I wear is the mask of time. Surely you didn't expect shining faith and blind love to remain in it forever." "It's impossible!" Sir Guy's heart turned slowly over, remembering. "That girl is dead." "You're right." The woman had hold of herself again. "That girl is dead, that weak girl who trusted you. But in her place stands Mother Gin Sling who is strong and who now trades on the weaknesses of others. Now quickly tell them the little name of love you used to call the little Manchu girl. Perhaps you'll explain everything." It was true, what she said. Sir Guy knew that now. But she had changed so evilly, so horribly, that young girl he had adored, in spite of his friends who had frowned on their love. "Yes, it's true," he said then. "I came to China from Australia twenty years ago, against my family's wishes. That was why I assumed the name of Dawson. And I did marry her. I saw nothing dishonorable in that." "And he saw nothing dishonorable in leaving her," Mother Gin Sling said quickly. "I gave him myself and I gave him a child, poor thing. It died. Then all at once he was gone and his friends came. I thought they were my friends too until one day I found myself like those caged animals up there, only there was no fake about that sale. The soles of my feet cut open, pebbles sewn inside to keep me from running away. I don't know what kept me alive, unless it was the hope of a nice social evening like this, the, dream that an hour would come when I could pay him back in full !" She looked up as the door of the room was flung open and Poppy stood there, sodden, swaying, even more a caricature of that young girl who had first come there than the broken doll at her place. She had had so much to drink that even her father couldn't shame her now. "I guess you didn't expect to see me." She laughed harshly. "But planes fly off and planes turn back, or did I only imagine you put me on a plane? Give me a cigarette," she said, lurching toward Omar,. her arms going around him as she pressed against him. "This is the poet laureate of Shanghai. Some 'day I am going to kill him. Go on, Doctor, recite something for Dad," she ordered as she took his cigarette case and opened it. Omar accepted her challenge unabashed. "The moving finger writes and having writ, moves on." He smiled ironically. "Nor all your piety nor wit shall lure it back to cancel half a line, nor all your tears wash out a word of it." Poppy took a cigarette, then snapped the case closed again. "How do you like it?" she asked, holding it out to her father. "Good taste, isn't it? Cost me a thousand. Cheap, like a lot of things around here." "Victoria !" her father called despairingly, but she didn't even hear him as she suddenly opened her bag and took out the gun concealed there. But Omar tore it out of her hand with a contemptuous laugh and tossed it over to Mother Gin Sling. "Come, Victoria." Sir Guy ran over to her. "Let me take you away now, before it's too late, before something happens I can't repair." "It's already too late." Mother Gin Sling looked at him triumphantly. "Your daughter is no good for anything or anybody. Wherever you take her she would be no good. I would have torn down the whole world to get at you," she went on evenly. "But it wasn't necessary. It was made easy for me. Because her soul was hollow, her emotions were cheap. She had no more control than her father had, no more honor. Her blood is bad." Sir Guy looked at her heavily. It was true what she said. He had only to look at his daughter to see what she had become, to know what her future would be. Useless now to carry his secret any longer. Let it hurt that smiling woman then, as she had hurt him. Let the truth haunt her forever. "Her blood isn't bad," he said then. "Unless yours is bad. Her emotions aren't cheap unless yours are cheap. She's not my daughter, she's our daughter. It's not my child you've destroyed, it's our child. After you vanished she was picked up for dead and brought to a hospital. We nursed her back to health and I took her far away." "You're crazy !" Poppy tore herself out of her father's arms, looking defiantly at the woman who stood there searching her face for the evidence she was afraid to find. "I'll tell you one thing, if I had m> choice you'd be the last mother I'd pick, Mother Gin Sling!" Suddenly she knew, Mother Gin Sling, knew that he had told her the truth, knew that her triumph had turned to despair. Her daughter, the baby whose death she had mourned all these years, the baby she had wanted to give so much to, this was what she had given her, shame and degradation and dishonor. But there was one more thing she could give her too, she thought, her hands closing around the revolver Omar had thrown her. She could give her peace, peace and a dreamless sleep. Quickly, while she still had the courage, she pulled the trigger, and the girl sank to her feet and with a sob her mother sank to her knees beside her and even Sir Guy recognized her right in that moment as slowly he followed the others running panic-stricken from the room. "It's not you I destroyed," Mother Gin Sling whispered and her arms went_ around the girl and her cheek pressed against the one already beginning to turn cold. "It's myself. We might have been so happy." She lifted her head as she heard the cries in the street below, the sharp command in a policeman's voice. They were coming now. So soon. Then it was strange how she remembered Dixie, a girl young as Poppy had been young, a girl who had travelled the same long road of disillusionment but who somehow had managed to hold something which could only be_ called integrity, blatant and cheap though it was. Maybe," she thought, as she got to her feet and went in search of her, the gods would know that in helping her she was somehow making the poor misadventure which had been Poppy's life worth-while too. "Here !" She pushed her bag heavy with money in the girl's hand. "Get out of here on the first boat. There's enough to tip Omar too, so he won't miss you too much.' The girl's eves filled with tears and Mother Gin Sling envied her that happy release. Her tears were still imprisoned somewhere deep inside her, as if her despair had frozen them into icicles which would hang from her heart forever. 82 SCREENLAND