Red and black; these were the only colors in the room. The
curtains, which were of black silk, were drawn, though it was not
yet dark outside, and from the ceiling was suspended a lamp in
the shape of a great scarlet bowl which cast an eerie red light
on one of the most bizarre apartments that Desmond had ever seen.
It was a lacquer room in the Chinese style, popularized by the
craze for barbaric decoration introduced by Bakst and the Russian
Ballet into England. The walls were enameled the same brilliant
glossy red as the door and hung at intervals with panels of
magnificent black and gold lacquer work. The table which ran down
the centre of the room was of scarlet and gold lacquer like the
fantastically designed chairs and the rest of the furniture. The
heavy carpet was black.
Desmond did not take in all these details at once; for his
attention was immediately directed to a high-backed armchair
covered in black satin which stood with its back to the door. He
stared at this chair; for, peeping out above the back, making a
splash of deep golden brown against the black sheen of the
upholstery, was a mass of curls... Barbara Mackwayte's hair.
As he advanced towards the girl, she moaned in a high, whimpering
voice:
"No, no, not again! Let me sleep! Please, please, leave me
alone!"
Desmond sprang to her side.
Pages:
322
323
324
325
326
327
328
329
330
331
332
333
334
335
336
337
338
339
340
341
342
343
344
345
346