escending lift; this time it was the
elevator by which he himself had descended. It came to a halt at the
floor level and the steel gates swung open invitingly. He must take his
chance; anyway, anything was better than remaining in this underground
room.

He stepped into the lift and pulled the gates close after him. To his
surprise they answered readily, and as the lock snapped the lift went
upwards slowly. Two overhanging electric lamps illuminated the little
elevator. They were dangerous to him. With the steel barrel of his
pistol he smashed the bulbs and crouched down in the darkness, his
finger on the trigger, ready for any emergency.

T. B. Smith was standing in the hall, and behind him three hard-featured
men from the Yard. Before him was Dr. Fall, imperturbable and obeying as
ever.

"You are perfectly at liberty to search the house," he was saying, "and,
as far as Count Poltavo is concerned, there is no mystery whatever. He
is one of the people who have been attracted here by curiosity, and at
the present moment he is inspecting the wonders of our beautiful
establishment."

There was something of truth in his ironic tone, and T. B. was puzzled.

"Will you kindly produce Count Poltavo?"

"With pleasure," said the secretary.

It was at that moment that the lift door opened and Poltavo stepped out,
pistol in hand.

He saw the group and took in its significance. He had now to decide in
that moment with whom he should run. His mind was made up quickly; he
knew he had no friends in the police force; whatever prosperity awaited
him must come from Farrington and his influence.

"An interesting weapon you have in your hand, Count," drawled T. B. "Do
I understand that you have been inspecting the art treasures of the
Secret House in some fear of your life?"

"Not at all," said Poltavo, as he slipped the pistol into his pocket. "I
have merely been engaged in a little pistol practice in the underground
shooting gallery; it is an interesting place; you should see it."

Dr. Fall's eyes did not leave the face of his late prisoner, and Poltavo
saw an approving gleam in the dark eyes.

"I should not, ordinarily, take the trouble to inspect your shooting
gallery," said T. B. Smith with a smile, "because I know that you are
not speaking the exact truth, Count Poltavo. My own impression is that
you have every reason to be thankful for my arrival. In the present
circumstances, perhaps, it would be advisable to look ov