been rusted and pit-marked by time, but now
stood brightly polished beside the statue of the god. A huge two-edged
sword was held upright in the steel glove.

By the dim light behind the idol the shadow of the sword was cast
across the blank face of Baskinelli as he moved forward. He stepped
back quickly. The shadow fell between him and Pauline.

Again the ancient priest answered a summons at the door. Again he
parleyed for a moment--then opened it to the three swarthy foreigners
who had been in the restaurant.

Baskinelli turned for just in instant to glance at the tall man with
the tilted mustache, then resumed immediately his conversation with
Pauline.

"Why do all the Chinamen run away like that?" she asked.

"It is the end of the service; you see the priests are going, too."

There was a furtive haste about the departure of the Orientals. And
there was a quavering in the manner of the oldest priest--the only
one who remained--that seemed born of a hidden fear.

The old priest lifted one of the lamps from a wall bracket and set it
on the floor beside the idol. He knelt near it and began to pray.

The three Italians waited only a moment, then followed the Chinese out
of the room.

"It is late--we ought to be going," pleaded Lucille.

Complete silence had fallen on the room and her words, a little
tremulous, had instant effect on the other women.

"What about it, Baskinelli? Had we better be going?" asked one of the
men.

"Yes--yes, I beg only a moment. I wish to show Miss Pauline the--"

"You mean Miss Marvin, do you not?" blazed Harry, striding to
Baskinelli's side and glaring down at him.

"I was interrupted. I had not finished my words. They are, at best,
awkward, I beg--"

"You beg nothing," said Harry through clenched teeth. Then slowly,
grimly:

"I want to tell you, you little leper, that if anything happens here
tonight--it is going to happen to you."

He was so near to the musician that the others did not hear.

Baskinelli backed away. Pauline, with the swift, inexplicable, yet
unerring instinct of woman, moved as if to seek the shelter of Harry's
towering frame.

He did not see her. He had whirled at the sound of the opening of a
door--a peculiar door set diagonally across a corner of the room
behind the joss.

Through the yellow silk curtains that hid the entrance came two
Chinamen as fantastically hideous as the embroidered dragons on the
tapestry.

"Put those men o