not
force it from inside, you also must get over and lead the way to the
entrance you know of. Sowerby and two more men will remain to watch
the lane. The river front is well guarded. We will post a man here
at this gate and one at the other. Dunbar and I will climb this one
and rush straight for that balcony which we must hope to reach by
climbing up the ivy. Ah! here comes Inspector Dunbar ... and
_someone_ is with him!"

Dunbar appeared at the double around the corner of the lane which
led riverward, and beside him ran a girl who presented a bizarre
figure beside the gaunt Scotsman and a figure wildly out of place
in that English riverside setting.

It was Miska, arrayed in her flimsy _harem_ dress!

"Miska!" cried Stuart, and sprang towards her, sweeping her hungrily
into his arms--forgetful of, indifferent to, the presence of Max and
Dunbar.

"Ah!" sighed the Frenchman--"yes, she is beautiful!"

Trembling wildly, Miska clung to Stuart and began to speak, her
English more broken than ever, because of her emotion.

"Listen--quick!" she panted. "Oh! do not hold me so tight. I have the
house-keys--look!"--she held up a bunch of keys--"but not the keys of
the gates. Two men have gone to the end of the tunnel where the boat
is hid beside the river. Someone--he better climb this gate and by the
ivy he can reach the room in which Fo-Hi is! I come down so. You do
not see me because the moon goes out and I run to the side-door. It
is open. _You_ come with me!"

She clung to Stuart, looking up into his eyes.

"Yes, yes, Miska!"

"Oh! Chunda Lal"--she choked down a sob. "Be quick! be quick! _He_
will kill him! he will kill him!"

"Off you go, doctor!" cried Max. "Come along, Dunbar!"

He began to climb the ironwork of the gate.

"This way!" said Miska, dragging Stuart by the arm. "Oh! I am wild
with fear and sorrow and joy!"

"With joy, dear little Miska!" whispered Stuart, as he followed her.

They passed around the bend into the narrower lane which led toward
the river and upon which the garden-door opened. Stuart detained her.
If the fate of the whole world had hung in the balance--as indeed,
perhaps it did--he could not have acted otherwise. He raised her
bewitching face and kissed her ardently.

She trembled and clung to him rapturously.

"I _live_!" she whispered. "Oh! I am mad with happiness! It is Chunda
Lal that gives me life--for he tells me the truth. It is not with the
living-death that _he_