.

Matthews, who was leading, halted and listened. Everything was
quite still. Above their head the inn sign groaned uneasily as it
was stirred by the fresh morning breeze.

"You, Gordon," whispered Matthews to the man behind him--they had
advanced in Indian file--"take Bates and go round to the back.
Harrison will go in by the front with me."

Even as he spoke a faint noise came from the interior of the
house. The four men stood stock-still and listened. In the
absolute stillness of the early morning, the sound fell
distinctly on their ears. It was a step--a light step--descending
the stairs.

Gordon and the soldier detached themselves from the party as
Matthews and the other plain clothes man crossed the bridge
swiftly and went up to the inn door. Hardly had Matthews got his
foot on the stone step of the threshold than, a piercing shriek
resounded from the room quite close at hand. The next minute a
flying figure burst out of the door and fell headlong into the
arms of Matthews who was all but overbalanced by the force of the
impact.

He closed with the figure and grappled it firmly. His arms
encountered a frail, light body, shaking from head to foot,
enveloped in a cloak of some soft, thick material.

"It's a woman!" cried Matthews.

"It's Nur-el-Din!" exclaimed his companion in the same breath,
seizing the woman by the arm.

The dancer made no attempt to escape. She stood with bowed head,
trembling violently, in a cowering, almost a crouching posture.

Harrison, who had the woman by the arm, had turned her head so
that he could see her face. She was deathly pale and her black
eyes were wide open, the pupils dilated. Her teeth were
chattering in her head. She seemed incapable of speech or motion.

"Nur-el-Din?" exclaimed Matthews in accents of triumph. "Bring
her in, Harrison, and let's have a look at her!"

But the woman recoiled in terror. She arched her body stiff, like
a child in a passion, and strained every muscle to remain where
she was cowering by the inn-door.

"Come on, my girl," said the man not unkindly, "don't you 'ear
wot the Guv'nor sez! In you go!"

Then the girl screamed aloud.

"No, no!" she cried, "not in that house! For the love of God,
don't take me back into that room! Ah! For pity's sake, let me
stay outside! Take me to prison but not, not into that house
again!"

She half fell on her knees in the mire, pleading, entreating, her
body shaken by sobs.

Then Harrison, who