aordinary expression.

"What does it mean, Smith?" I began.

But he interrupted me.

"Where is the dacoit?" he demanded rapidly.

"Since he seemingly possesses the attributes of a fish," I replied, "I
cannot pretend to say."

The gypsy woman lifted her eyes to mine and laughed. Her laughter was
musical, not that of such an old hag as Smith held captive; it was
familiar, too.

I started and looked closely into the wizened face.

"He's tricked you," said Smith, an angry note in his voice. "What is
that you have in your hand?"

I showed him the knife, and told him how it had come into my possession.

"I know," he rapped. "I saw it. He was in the water not three yards
from where you stood. You must have seen him. Was there nothing
visible?"

"Nothing."

The woman laughed again, and again I wondered.

"A wild-fowl," I added; "nothing else."

"A wild-fowl," snapped Smith. "If you will consult your recollections
of the habits of wild-fowl you will see that this particular specimen
was a RARA AVIS. It's an old trick, Petrie, but a good one, for it is
used in decoying. A dacoit's head was concealed in that wild-fowl!
It's useless. He has certainly made good his escape by now."

"Smith," I said, somewhat crestfallen, "why are you detaining this
gypsy woman?"

"Gypsy woman!" he laughed, hugging her tightly as she made an impatient
movement. "Use your eyes, old man."

He jerked the frowsy wig from her head, and beneath was a cloud of
disordered hair that shimmered in the sunlight.

"A wet sponge will do the rest," he said.

Into my eyes, widely opened in wonder, looked the dark eyes of the
captive; and beneath the disguise I picked out the charming features of
the slave girl. There were tears on the whitened lashes, and she was
submissive now.

"This time," said my friend hardly, "we have fairly captured her--and
we will hold her."

From somewhere up-stream came a faint call.

"The dacoit!"

Nayland Smith's lean body straightened; he stood alert, strung up.

Another call answered, and a third responded. Then followed the flatly
shrill note of a police whistle, and I noted a column of black vapor
rising beyond the wall, mounting straight to heaven as the smoke of a
welcome offering.

The surrounded mansion was in flames!

"Curse it!" rapped Smith. "So this time we were right. But, of
course, he has had ample opportunity to remove his effects. I knew
that. The man's daring is incredi