or day,
never cease upon the great commercial waterway.

"Down!" whispered Smith. "Make no noise! I suspected it. They heard
the car following!"

I obeyed, clutching at him for support; for I was suddenly dizzy, and
my heart was leaping wildly--furiously.

"You saw her?" he whispered.

Saw her! Yes, I had seen her! And my poor dream-world was toppling
about me, its cities ashes and its fairness dust.

Peering from the window, her great eyes wondrous in the moonlight and
her red lips parted, hair gleaming like burnished foam and her anxious
gaze set upon the corner of the lane--was Karamaneh ... Karamaneh
whom once we had rescued from the house of this fiendish Chinese
doctor; Karamaneh who had been our ally, in fruitless quest of
whom,--when, too late, I realized how empty my life was become--I had
wasted what little of the world's goods I possessed:--Karamaneh!

"Poor old Petrie," murmured Smith. "I knew, but I hadn't the
heart--_He_ has her again--God knows by what chains he holds her. But
she's only a woman, old boy, and women are very much alike--very much
alike from Charing Cross to Pagoda Road."

He rested his hand on my shoulder for a moment; I am ashamed to
confess that I was trembling; then, clenching my teeth with that
mechanical physical effort which often accompanies a mental one, I
swallowed the bitter draught of Nayland Smith's philosophy. He was
raising himself, to peer, cautiously, over the top of the door. I did
likewise.

The window from which the girl had looked was nearly on a level with
our eyes, and as I raised my head above the woodwork, I quite
distinctly saw her go out of the room. The door, as she opened it,
admitted a dull light, against which her figure showed silhouetted for
a moment. Then the door was reclosed.

"We must risk the other windows," rapped Smith.

Before I had grasped the nature of his plan, he was over and had
dropped almost noiselessly upon the casks outside. Again I followed
his lead.

"You are not going to attempt anything, single-handed--against _him_?"
I asked.

"Petrie--Eltham is in that house. He has been brought here to be put
to the question, in the mediaeval, and Chinese, sense! Is there time to
summon assistance?"

I shuddered. This had been in my mind, certainly, but so expressed it
was definitely horrible--revolting, yet stimulating.

"You have the pistol," added Smith; "follow closely, and quietly."

He walked across the tops of the casks and