s probable they would not return to get
rid of my remains. The whole affair was incomprehensible. It seemed
evident that Sylvia had not fallen a victim to the vengeance of the
pair, as I had feared, but that perhaps I had owed my life to her.

Could it be that she had learned of my peril, released me, killed the
venomous reptile, and escaped?

Suddenly, as my eyes wandered about the dingy old room, I caught sight
of something shining. A golden bangle of curious Indian design was
lying upon the mantelshelf. I took it up, and in a moment recognized
it as one I had seen upon her wrist one evening while she sat at
dinner at Gardone.

I replaced it, stood for a moment deep in thought, and then, with
sudden resolve, returned to the chamber of horror, obtained my hat,
and, descending the stairs, went forth into Porchester Terrace.

I had to walk as far as Bayswater Road before I could find a taxi. The
sun was now shining brightly, and there were many people about in the
streets. Finding a cab at last, I told the man to drive with all speed
to my bank in Oxford Street.

It was just eleven when I went up to the counter to one of the paying
cashiers I knew, and asked him breathlessly if a cheque of mine had
been paid to a person named Reckitt. He saw by my manner that I was in
hot haste.

"I've cashed it not a moment ago, Mr. Biddulph," was his reply. "Why,
you must have passed the man as you came in! He's only this moment
gone out."

Without a word I dashed back to the swing-doors, and there, sure
enough, only a few yards away, I caught sight of Forbes, in a smart
grey flannel suit, entering a taxi. I shouted, but the taxi man did
not hear me. He was facing westward, and ere I could attract his
attention he was slowly moving in the direction of the Marble Arch.

The quick eyes of Forbes had, however, detected me, and, leaning out,
he said something to his driver. Quickly I re-entered my cab, and told
my man to turn and follow, pointing out the taxi in front. Mine was
open, while that in which the assassin sat was closed.

In his pocket the scoundrel carried over a thousand pounds of my
money.

My first impulse was to stop and inform a police-constable, but if I
did so I saw that he must escape. I shouted to my driver to try and
see the number of the cab, but there was a lot of traffic, and he was
unable to see it clearly.

I suppose I must have cut a sorry figure, dishevelled as I was by my
night's weird experienc