me infamous, shall yourself be infamous! Now it is
France's turn--for her I will produce a new instrument--"

"That is not necessary, M. Vard," broke in Crochard. "There need not be
even that small delay. I have the old one here," and he tapped the
pocket of his coat.

"The old one!" echoed Vard. "But Kasia destroyed it!"

"It was not destroyed. I will explain. Are you quite ready? Then pass
out before me and await me in the outer room."

Still staring, Vard opened the door. Then he sprang to the table with a
glad cry, and caught up the box which stood there.

"It is complete again!" he cried. "It is--"

With a hoarse shout, Pachmann leaped at Crochard's throat. But, in
midair, a spatter of liquid broke against his face, and his body hurtled
onward to the floor.

And then, from the floor below, came an answering shout, a shot, the
clatter of heavy feet....

With shining eyes, Crochard dropped on one knee beside his adversary,
and bent for a moment above the body. Then he sprang to his feet and
switched off the light.

"Stand here!" he said, snatched the inventor to one side, and stood
facing the outer door.

But it did not open. No further sound reached them.

"Cowards!" muttered Crochard. "They wait in ambush! Well, let us see,"
and, stealing to the door, he opened it softly, softly, bracing his knee
against it.

Still there was no sound.

Cautiously he peered out. The hall was empty.

Noiselessly he crawled to the stair-head and looked down. He could see
no one. But where were Pachmann's men--hiding somewhere in the hall
below, waiting for him to appear....

He drew back with a little exclamation, for from somewhere below came
the groan of a man in pain.

For a moment Crochard sat with bewildered face, trying to understand.
Then he sprang to his feet and went rapidly from door to door in the
upper hall. All of them were armed with heavy outside bolts, but only
one was fastened. He drew the bolts and opened the door a crack.

"Is any one here?" he asked.

There was no response, and, feeling for the switch, he turned on the
lights and looked in. The room was empty. But in an instant his eye had
seen three details--the shattered furniture, the disordered bed, the
open window.

At the window, the corner of a sheet was tied securely to a hinge of the
heavy shutter, which had been pried open. Crochard touched it
thoughtfully and nodded. Then he peered down into the well-like court on
which the win