I had not the vaguest
idea what we were about. My mind was not yet fully recovered from the
frightful shock which it had sustained; and the strange words of the
dying man--"the golden pomegranates"--had increased my mental
confusion. Smith apparently had not heard them, for he remained grimly
silent, as side by side we raced down the marble stairs to the
corridor immediately below our own.

Although, amid the hideous turmoil to which I had awakened, I had
noted nothing of the hour, evidently the night was far advanced. Not a
soul was to be seen from end to end of the vast corridor in which we
stood ... until on the right-hand side and about half-way along, a
door opened and a woman came out hurriedly, carrying a small hand-bag.

She wore a veil, so that her features were but vaguely distinguished,
but her every movement was agitated; and this agitation perceptibly
increased when, turning, she perceived the two of us bearing down
upon her.

Nayland Smith, who had been audibly counting the doors along the
corridor as we passed them, seized the woman's arm without ceremony,
and pulled her into the apartment she had been on the point of
quitting, closing the door behind us as we entered.

"Smith!" I began, "for Heaven's sake what are you about?"

"You shall see, Petrie!" he snapped.

He released the woman's arm, and pointing to an arm-chair near by--

"Be seated," he said sternly.

Speechless with amazement, I stood, with my back to the door, watching
this singular scene. Our captive, who wore a smart walking costume and
whose appearance was indicative of elegance and culture, so far had
uttered no word of protest, no cry.

Now, whilst Smith stood rigidly pointing to the chair, she seated
herself with something very like composure and placed the leather bag
upon the floor beside her. The room in which I found myself was one of
a suite almost identical with our own, but from what I had gathered in
a hasty glance around, it bore no signs of recent tenancy. The window
was widely opened, and upon the floor lay a strange-looking contrivance
apparently made of aluminum. A large grip, open, stood beside it, and
from this some portions of a black coat and other garments protruded.

"Now, madame," said Nayland Smith, "will you be good enough to raise
your veil?"

Silently, unprotestingly, the woman obeyed him, raising her gloved
hands and lifting the veil from her face.

The features revealed were handsome in a hard f