vered with excitement. "The game's up, Fu-Manchu. Find something to
tie him up with, Petrie."

I moved forward to Smith's side, and was about to pass him in the
narrow doorway. The hulk moved beneath our feet like a living thing
groaning, creaking--and the water lapped about the rotten woodwork with
a sound infinitely dreary.

"Put up your hands!" ordered Smith imperatively.

Fu-Manchu slowly raised his hands, and a smile dawned upon the
impassive features--a smile that had no mirth in it, only menace,
revealing as it did his even, discolored teeth, but leaving the filmed
eyes inanimate, dull, inhuman.

He spoke softly, sibilantly.

"I would advise Dr. Petrie to glance behind him before he moves."

Smith's keen gray eyes never for a moment quitted the speaker. The
gleaming barrel moved not a hair's-breadth. But I glanced quickly over
my shoulder--and stifled a cry of pure horror.

A wicked, pock-marked face, with wolfish fangs bared, and jaundiced
eyes squinting obliquely into mine, was within two inches of me. A
lean, brown hand and arm, the great thews standing up like cords, held
a crescent-shaped knife a fraction of an inch above my jugular vein. A
slight movement must have dispatched me; a sweep of the fearful weapon,
I doubt not, would have severed my head from my body.

"Smith!" I whispered hoarsely, "don't look around. For God's sake keep
him covered. But a dacoit has his knife at my throat!"

Then, for the first time, Smith's hand trembled. But his glance never
wavered from the malignant, emotionless countenance of Dr. Fu-Manchu.
He clenched his teeth hard, so that the muscles stood out prominently
upon his jaw.

I suppose that silence which followed my awful discovery prevailed but
a few seconds. To me those seconds were each a lingering death.

There, below, in that groaning hulk, I knew more of icy terror than any
of our meetings with the murder-group had brought to me before; and
through my brain throbbed a thought: the girl had betrayed us!

"You supposed that I was alone?" suggested Fu-Manchu. "So I was."

Yet no trace of fear had broken through the impassive yellow mask when
we had entered.

"But my faithful servant followed you," he added. "I thank him. The
honors, Mr. Smith, are mine, I think?"

Smith made no reply. I divined that he was thinking furiously.
Fu-Manchu moved his hand to caress the marmoset, which had leaped
playfully upon his shoulder, and crouched there gib