ey had nothing to do with Skarbolov's, that was
certain; but the words came back now insistently. "Seven-three-nine."
What did "seven-three-nine" mean? She shook her head helplessly. Well,
what did it matter? She dismissed further consideration of it. She
repeated to herself Gypsy Nan's directions for finding the spring of the
secret drawer. She forced herself to think of anything that would bar
the entry of that fear which stood lurking at the threshold of her mind.

From time to time she consulted her watch--and each time hurried the
faster.

It was five minutes past one when, stealing silently along a black lane,
and counting against the skyline the same number of buildings she had
previously counted on the street from the corner, she entered an equally
black yard, and reached the back door of Skarbolov's little store. She
felt out with her hands and found the padlock, and her fingers pressed
on the link in the chain that Gypsy Nan had described. It gave readily.
She slipped it free, and opened the door. There was faint, almost
inaudible, protesting creak from the hinges. She caught her breath
quickly. Had anybody heard it? It--it had seemed like a cannon shot. And
then her lips curled in sudden self-contempt. Who was there to hear it?

She stepped forward, closed the door silently behind her, and drew
out her flashlight. The ray cut through the blackness. She was in what
seemed like a small, outer storeroom, that was littered with an untidy
collection of boxes, broken furniture, and odds and ends of all sorts.
Ahead of her was an open door, and, through this, the flashlight
disclosed the shop itself. She switched off the light now as she moved
forward-there were the front windows, and, used too freely, the light
might by some unlucky chance be noticed from the street.

And now, in the darkness again, she reached the doorway of the shop. She
had not made any noise. She assured herself of that. She had never known
that she could move so silently before--and--and--Yes, she would fight
down this panic that was seizing her! She would! It would only take a
minute now--just another minute--if--if she would only keep her head and
her nerve. That was what Gypsy Nan had said. She only needed to keep her
nerve. She had never lost it in the face of many a really serious danger
when with her father--why should she now, when there was nothing but the
silence and the darkness to be afraid of!

The flashlight went on again, its