his glance
had met that of Sir Charles--a premonition that this man's days
were numbered. It was uncanny, unnerving; and whereas, at first, the
atmosphere of Sir Charles Abingdon's home had been laden with prosperous
security, now from every side, and even penetrating to the warmly
lighted dining room, came that chilling note of danger.

In crossing the lobby he had not failed to note that there were many
Indian curios in the place which could not well have failed to attract
the attention of a burglar. But that the person who had penetrated to
the house was no common burglar he was now assured and he required no
further evidence upon this point.

As he took his seat at the dining table he observed that Sir Charles's
collection had overflowed even into this room. In the warm shadows about
him were pictures and ornaments, all of which came from, or had been
inspired by, the Far East.

In this Oriental environment lay an inspiration. The terror which had
come into Sir Charles's life, the invisible menace which, swordlike,
hung over him, surely belonged in its eerie quality to the land of
temple bells, of silent, subtle peoples, to the secret land which has
bred so many mysteries. Yes, he must look into the past, into the Indian
life of Sir Charles Abingdon, for the birth of this thing which now had
grown into a shadow almost tangible.

Benson attended at table, assisted by a dark-faced and very
surly-looking maid, in whom Harley thought he recognized the
housekeeper's bete noire.

When presently both servants had temporarily retired. "You see, Mr.
Harley," began Sir Charles, glancing about his own room in a manner
almost furtive, "I realized to-day at your office that the history of
this dread which has come upon me perhaps went back so far that it was
almost impossible to acquaint you with it under the circumstances."

"I quite understand."

"I think perhaps I should inform you in the first place that I have a
daughter. Her mother has been dead for many years, and perhaps I have
not given her the attention which a motherless girl is entitled to
expect from her father. I don't mean," he said, hastily, "that we are in
any sense out of sympathy, but latterly in some way I must confess that
we have got a little out of touch." He glanced anxiously at his guest,
indeed almost apologetically. "You will of course understand, Mr.
Harley, that this seeming preamble may prove to have a direct bearing
upon what I propose to