s unable to
judge, for his watch had been removed from his pocket. He stared about
him with a sort of fearful interest. He lay in a small barely furnished
room having white distempered walls, wholly undecorated. Its few
appointments were Oriental, and the only window which it boasted was set
so high as to be well out of reach. Moreover, it was iron-barred, and
at the moment admitted no light, whether because it did not communicate
with the outer world, or because night was fallen, he was unable to
tell.

There were two doors in the room, one of very massive construction, and
the other a smaller one. The place was dimly lighted by a brass lantern
which hung from the ceiling. Harley stood up, staggered slightly, and
then sat down again.

"My God," he groaned and raised his hand to his head.

For a few moments he remained seated, victim of a deadly nausea. Then,
clenching his jaws grimly, again he stood up, and this time succeeded in
reaching the heavy door.

As he had supposed, it was firmly locked, and a glance was sufficient
to show him that his unaided effort could never force it. He turned his
attention to the smaller door, which opened at his touch, revealing a
sleeping apartment not unlike a monk's cell, adjoining which was a tiny
bathroom. Neither rooms boasted windows, both being lighted by brass
lanterns.

Harley examined them and their appointments with the utmost care, and
then returned again to the outer room, one feature of which, and quite
the most remarkable, he had reserved for special investigation.

This was a massive screen of gilded iron scroll work, which occupied
nearly the whole of one end of the room. Beyond the screen hung a
violet-coloured curtain of Oriental fabric; but so closely woven was the
metal design that although he could touch this curtain with his finger
at certain points, it proved impossible for him to move it aside in any
way.

He noted that its lower fringe did not quite touch the door. By stooping
down, he could see a few feet into some room beyond. It was in darkness,
however, and beyond the fact that it was carpeted with a rich Persian
rug, he learned but little from his scrutiny. The gilded screen was
solid and immovable.

Nodding his head grimly, Harley felt in his pockets for pipe and pouch,
wondering if these, too, had been taken from him. They had not, however,
and the first nausea of his awakening having passed, he filled and
lighted his briar and dropped down u