t of understanding began to dawn in my friend's eyes. He drew
himself stiffly upright, and in a loud, harsh voice uttered the words:
"Sakya Muni"--and again: "Sakya Muni."

"Thank God!" I said shakily. "I was not too late."

Nayland Smith, with much rattling of glass, poured out two stiff pegs
from the decanter. Then--

"_Ssh!_what's that?" he whispered.

He stood, tense, listening, his head cast slightly to one side.

A very faint sound of shuffling and tapping was perceptible, coming,
as I thought, from the incomplete stairway communicating with the upper
corridor.

"The man with the limp!" whispered Smith.

He bounded to the door and actually had one hand upon the bolt, when
he turned, and fixed his gaze upon the brass box.

"No!" he snapped; "there are occasions when prudence should rule.
Neither of us must leave these rooms to-night!"

CHAPTER V

JOHN KI'S

"What is the meaning of Si-Fan?" asked Detective-sergeant Fletcher.

He stood looking from the window at the prospect below; at the trees
bordering the winding embankment; at the ancient monolith which for
unnumbered ages had looked across desert sands to the Nile, and now
looked down upon another river of many mysteries. The view seemed to
absorb his attention. He spoke without turning his head.

Nayland Smith laughed shortly.

"The Si-Fan are the natives of Eastern Tibet," he replied.

"But the term has some other significance, sir?" said the detective;
his words were more of an assertion than a query.

"It has," replied my friend grimly. "I believe it to be the name, or
perhaps the sigil, of an extensive secret society with branches
stretching out into every corner of the Orient."

We were silent for awhile. Inspector Weymouth, who sat in a chair near
the window, glanced appreciatively at the back of his subordinate, who
still stood looking out. Detective-sergeant Fletcher was one of
Scotland Yard's coming men. He had information of the first importance
to communicate, and Nayland Smith had delayed his departure upon an
urgent errand in order to meet him.

"Your case to date, Mr. Smith," continued Fletcher, remaining with
hands locked behind him, staring from the window, "reads something like
this, I believe: A brass box, locked, contents unknown, has come into
your possession. It stands now upon the table there. It was brought
from Tibet by a man who evidently thought that it had something to
do with the Si-Fan. He is dead, poss