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I

      take it you are posing as a slave again--is evidently not very harsh.

      You serve Fu-Manchu, lure men to their destruction, and in return he

      loads you with jewels, lavishes gifts--"

      "Ah! so!"

      She sprang forward, raising flaming eyes to mine; her lips were

      slightly parted. With that wild abandon which betrayed the desert

      blood in her veins, she wrenched open the neck of her bodice and

      slipped a soft shoulder free of the garment. She twisted around, so

      that the white skin was but inches removed from me.

      "These are some of the gifts that he lavishes upon me!"

      I clenched my teeth. Insane thoughts flooded my mind. For that creamy

      skin was wealed with the marks of the lash!

      She turned, quickly rearranging her dress, and watching me the while.

      I could not trust myself to speak for a moment, then--

      "If I am a stranger to you, as you claim, why do you give me your

      confidence?" I asked.

      "I have known you long enough to trust you!" she said simply, and

      turned her head aside.

      "Then why do you serve this inhuman monster?"

      She snapped her fingers oddly, and looked up at me from under her

      lashes. "Why do you question me if you think that everything I say is

      a lie?"

      It was a lesson in logic--from a woman! I changed the subject.

      "Tell me what you came here to do," I demanded.

      She pointed to the net in my hands.

      "To catch birds; you have said so yourself."

      "What bird?"

      She shrugged her shoulders.

      And now a memory was born within my brain: it was that of the cry of

      the nighthawk which had harbingered the death of Forsyth! The net was

      a large and strong one; could it be that some horrible fowl of the

      air--some creature unknown to Western naturalists--had been released

      upon the common last night? I thought of the marks upon Forsyth's face

      and throat; I thought of the profound knowledge of obscure and

      dreadful things possessed by the Chinaman.

      The wrapping in which the net had been lay at my feet. I stooped and

      took out from it a wicker basket. Kâramanèh stood watching me and

      biting her lip, but she made no move to check me. I opened the basket.

      It contained a large phial, the contents of which possessed a pungent

      and peculiar smell.

      I was utterly mystified.

      "You will have to accompany me to my house," I said sternly.

      Kâramanèh upturned her great eyes to mine. They were wide with fear.

      She was on the point of speaking when I extended my hand to grasp her.

      At that, the look of fear was gone and one of rebellion held its

      place. Ere I had time to realize her purpose, she flung back from me

      with that wild grace which I had met with in no other woman,

      turned--and ran!

      Fatuously, net and basket in hand, I stood looking after her. The idea

      of pursuit came to me certainly; but I doubted if I could outrun her.

      For Kâramanèh ran, not like a girl used to town or even country life,

      but with the lightness and swiftness of a gazelle; ran like the

      daughter of the desert that she was.

      Some two hundred yards she went, stopped, and looked back. It would

      seem that the sheer joy of physical effort had aroused the devil in

      her, the devil that must lie latent in every woman with eyes like the

      eyes of Kâramanèh.

      In the ever-brightening sunlight I could see the lithe figure swaying;

      no rags imaginable could mask its beauty. I could see the red lips and

      gleaming teeth. Then--and it was music good to hear, despite its

      taunt--she laughed defiantly, turned, and ran again!

      I resigned myself to defeat; I blush to add, gladly! Some evidences of

      a world awakening were perceptible about me now. Feathered choirs

      hailed the new day joyously. Carrying the mysterious contrivance which

      I had captured from the enemy, I set out in the direction of my house,

      my mind very busy with conjectures respecting the link between this

      bird-snare and the cry like that of a nighthawk which we had heard at

      the moment of Forsyth's death.

      The path that I had chosen led me around the border of the Mound

      Pond--a small pool having an islet in the centre. Lying at the margin

      of the pond I was amazed to see the plate and jug which Nayland Smith

      had borrowed recently.

      Dropping my burden, I walked down to the edge of the water. I was

      filled with a sudden apprehension. Then, as I bent to pick up the now

      empty jug, came a hail:

      "All right, Petrie! Shall join you in a moment!"

      I started up, looked to right and left; but, although the voice had

      been that of Nayland Smith, no sign could I discern of his presence!

      "Smith!" I cried. "Smith!"

      "Coming!"

      Seriously doubting my senses, I looked in the direction from which the

      voice had seemed to proceed--and there was Nayland Smith.

      He stood on the islet in the centre of the pond, and, as I perceived

      him, he walked down into the shallow water and waded across to me!

      "Good heavens!" I began.

      One of his rare laughs interrupted me.

      "You must think me mad this morning, Petrie!" he said. "But I have

      made several discoveries. Do you know what that islet in the pond

      really is?"

      "Merely an islet, I suppose."

      "Nothing of the kind; it is a burial mound, Petrie! It marks the site

      of one of the Plague Pits where victims were buried during the Great

      Plague of London. You will observe that although you have seen it

      every morning for some years, it remains for a British Commissioner

      lately resident in Burma to acquaint you with its history!

      Hullo!"--the

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