essary she
should do her work tidily.

Soon the whole of the trap was revealed. There was an iron ring, which
fitted flush with the top and which she pulled. The trap yielded and
swung back as though there were a counterbalance at the other end, as
indeed there was. She peered down. There was a dim light below--the
reflection of a light in the distance. A flight of steps led down to the
lower level and after a second's hesitation she swung her legs over the
cavity and began her descent.

She was in a cellar slightly smaller than that above her. The light
she had seen came from an inner apartment which would be underneath the
kitchen of the house. She made her way cautiously along, stepping on
tip-toe. The first of the rooms she came to was well-furnished. There
was a thick carpet on the floor, comfortable easy-chairs, a little
bookcase well filled, and a reading lamp. This must be Kara's
underground study, where he kept his precious papers.

A smaller room gave from this and again it was doorless. She looked in
and after her eyes had become accustomed to the darkness she saw that it
was a bathroom handsomely fitted.

The room she was in was also without any light which came from the
farthermost chamber. As the girl strode softly across the well-carpeted
room she trod on something hard. She stooped and felt along the
floor and her fingers encountered a thin steel chain. The girl was
bewildered-almost panic-stricken. She shrunk back from the entrance
of the inner room, fearful of what she would see. And then from the
interior came a sound that made her tingle with horror.

It was a sound of a sigh, long and trembling. She set her teeth and
strode through the doorway and stood for a moment staring with open eyes
and mouth at what she saw.

"My God!" she breathed, "London. . . . in the twentieth century. . . !"

CHAPTER XI

Superintendent Mansus had a little office in Scotland Yard proper,
which, he complained, was not so much a private bureau, as a
waiting-room to which repaired every official of the police service
who found time hanging on his hands. On the afternoon of Miss Holland's
surprising adventure, a plainclothes man of "D" Division brought to
Mr. Mansus's room a very scared domestic servant, voluble, tearful and
agonizingly penitent. It was a mood not wholly unfamiliar to a police
officer of twenty years experience and Mr. Mansus was not impressed.

"If you will kindly shut up," he said, blendi