The one was well filled;
the other, gold. Blastion's technic had proved unimpeachable.
XVI
AN IRON FAN
Effinghame waited for Dr. Arn in the study, a small chamber crowded with
the contents of the universe--so it seemed to the visitor. There was a
table unusual in size, indeed, big enough to dissect a body thereon. It
was littered with books and medical publications and was not very
attractive. The walls were covered with original drawings of famous
Japanese masters, and over the fireplace hung a huge fan, dull gray in
colouring, with long sandalwood spokes. Not a noteworthy example of
Japanese art, thought Effinghame, as he glanced without marked curiosity
at its neutral tinting, though he could not help wondering why the
cunning artificers of the East had failed to adorn the wedge-shaped
surfaces of this fan with their accustomed bold and exquisite
arabesques.
He impatiently paced the floor. His friend had told him to come at nine
o'clock in the evening. It was nearly ten. Then he began to finger
things. He fumbled the papers in the desk.
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