.

He strove to peer about him, but the feeble ray of the lamp was
incapable of penetrating the fog. He groped with his fingers, right and
left, and presently found slimy wooden steps. He drew himself closely
to these, and directed the light upon them. They led upward. He mounted
cautiously, and was clear of the oily water, now, and upon a sort of
gangway above which lowered a green and rotting wooden roof.

Obviously, the tide was rising; and, after seeking vainly to peer
through the fog ahead, he turned and descended the steps again, finding
himself now nearly up to his armpits in water. He just managed to get
in under the sluice gate without actually submerging his head, and to
regain the brick tunnel.

He paused for a moment, hoping to be able to lower the gate, but the
apparatus was out of his reach, and he had nothing to stand upon to aid
him in manipulating it.

Three or four inches of water now flooded the cave of the golden dragon.
Max pulled the keys from his pocket, and unlocked the door at the foot
of the steps. He turned, resting the electric lamp upon one of the
little ebony tables, and lifting Helen Cumberly, carried her half-way up
the steps, depositing her there with her back to the wall. He staggered
down again; his remarkable physical resources were at an end; it must
be another's work to rescue Mrs. Leroux. He stooped over Gianapolis, and
turned his head. The crooked eyes glared up at him deathly.

"May the good God forgive you," he whispered. "You tried to make your
peace with Him."

The sound of muffled blows began to be audible from the head of the
steps. Max staggered out of the cave of the golden dragon. A slight
freshness and dampness was visible in its atmosphere, and the gentle
gurgling of water broke its heavy stillness. There was a new quality
come into it, and, strangely, an old quality gone out from it. As he
lifted the lamp from the table--now standing in slowly moving water--the
place seemed no longer to be the cave of the golden dragon he had
known....

He mounted the steps again, with difficulty, resting his shaking hands
upon the walls. Shattering blows were being delivered upon the door,
above.

"Dunbar!" he cried feebly, stepping aside to avoid Helen Cumberly, where
she lay. "Dunbar!"...

XL

DAWN AT THE NORE

The river police seemed to be floating, suspended in the fog, which now
was so dense that the water beneath was invisible. Inspector Rogers, who
was i