sed his clenched right hand, so did Chunda Lal raise the
_kukri._ Fo-Hi extended his left hand rigidly towards the Hindu and
seemed to force him, step by step, back towards the open trap. Almost
at the brink, Chunda Lal paused, swayed, and began to utter short,
agonised cries. Froth appeared upon his lips.

Raising his right hand yet further aloft, Fo-Hi swiftly brought it
down, performing the gesture of stabbing himself to the heart. His
ghastly reserve deserted him.

_"Jey Bhowana!"_ he screamed--"Yah Allah!"

Chunda Lal, uttering a loud groan, stabbed himself and fell backward
into the opening. Ensued a monstrous crash of broken glass.

As he fell, Fo-Hi leapt to the brink of the trap, glaring down madly
into the cellar below. His yellow fingers opened and closed
spasmodically.

"Lie there," he shrieked--"my 'faithful' servant! The ants shall pick
your bones!"

He grasped the upstanding door of the trap and closed it. It
descended with a reverberating boom. Fo-Hi raised his clenched fists
and stepped to the door. Finding it locked, he stood looking toward
the open screen before the window.

"Miska!" he whispered despairingly.

He crossed to the window and was about to look out, when a
high-pitched electric bell began to ring in the room.

Instantly Fo-Hi closed the screen and turned, looking in the direction
from whence the sound of ringing proceeded. As he did so, a second
bell, in another key, began to ring--a third--a fourth.

Momentarily the veiled man exhibited evidence of indecision. Then,
from beneath his robe he took a small key. Approaching an ornate
cabinet set against the wall to the left of one of the lacquer doors,
he inserted the key in a hidden lock, and slid the entire cabinet
partly aside revealing an opening.

Fo-Hi bent, peering down into the darkness of the passage below. A
muffled report came, a flash out of the blackness of the river tunnel,
and a bullet passed through the end of the cabinet upon which his
hand was resting, smashing an ivory statuette and shattering the glass.

Hurriedly he slid the cabinet into place again and stood with his back
to it, arms outstretched.

"Miska!" he said--and a note of yet deeper despair had crept into the
harsh voice.

Awhile he stood thus; then he drew himself up with dignity. The bells
had ceased.

Methodically Fo-Hi began to take certain books from the shelves and to
cast them into the great metal bowl which stood upon the tripod. Into