The Chinese Tapestry

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THE man at the desk was a Chinaman.

An odd fact, considering his guise, his garb and his surroundings. Firm-faced, square-jawed, this individual had the air of an American business man. He was wearing American clothes. His office was fitted with a flat-topped desk, straight-backed chairs and a metal filing cabinet.

A stack of envelopes lay on the desk, close by the telephone. The Chinaman was opening one envelope; like the others, it was addressed to Doctor Roy Tam. Removing the letter from within the envelope, Doctor Tam read it carefully, then laid it aside and picked up the next envelope.

The office was lighted only by a desk lamp. Doctor Tam was in the center of the glare. Hence it was not strange that he had failed to detect a movement in the haziness beyond. The door of the office had opened while the Chinese physician had been reading the first letter. The door had closed again without Tam noting it.

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