d I have finished. There is an old Dutch bureau at the
top of the stairs by your door. In the second drawer on the right is a
loaded revolver. You may want to use it----"

The voice suddenly ceased, and a cry of pain floated up again. All the
old fighting spirit raged in Berrington's veins now. He was going to be
free, he would have a weapon that he well knew how to use in his hands,
and he had obtained information of the most valuable kind. With his hand
on the knob of the door he followed directions. Four times to the right
and three to the left! A pull, and the door came open.

Berrington was free at last. As soon as he realised that fact his
professional caution came back to him. He kicked off his boots, and
finding the Webley revolver, loaded in all chambers, he crept like a cat
down the stairs, and looked into the study.

Sartoris lay back in his chair with his hands bound to his sides. Round
his head the two strangers had strung a piece of knotted whipcord which
one of them was drawing tighter and tighter with the aid of a penknife
twisted in the bandage. The face of the victim was ghastly white, his
eyes rolled, and the great beads poured down his cheeks. Berrington had
heard of that kind of torture before. His blood was boiling now, not
that he had any cause for sympathy with the little man in the chair.

"My God, I can't stand this much longer," Sartoris moaned. "Will that
fellow never come! Or has he failed to understand my instructions? My
brain is blazing. Help, help."

Berrington strode into the room, resolutely but softly. The little
yellow man who was administering the torture seemed to have his whole
heart in his work; he graduated the torture to a nicety. He seemed to
understand exactly how much the victim could stand without losing life
and reason altogether. He was like a doctor with an interesting patient.

"I think you will tell me where to find what we desire?" he said
smoothly.

"And then we can depart and trouble the gentleman no more," said the
other man, who was looking on as coolly as if at some landscape. "Why
put us to all this trouble?"

"I'll tell you," Sartoris moaned. "If you will look in the----God be
praised!"

The last words came with a yell, for the startled eyes had caught sight
of Berrington standing grimly in the background. The latter's left hand
shot out and the Burmese who held the penknife in the cord staggered
across the room from the force of a blow on the temple,