f he is in this
house! Nevertheless, Knox, I am submitting you to rather an appalling
risk, I know; for our man is desperate, and if he is still in the place
will prove as dangerous as a cornered rat."

"But the man who dropped through the trap?"

"The man who dropped through the trap," said Harley, "was not Ali of
Cairo--and it is Ali of Cairo for whom I am looking!"

"The hunchback we saw to-night?"

Harley nodded, and having listened intently for a few moments, proceeded
again to search the singular apartments of the abode. In each was
evidence of Oriental occupancy; indeed, some of the rooms possessed a
sort of Arabian Nights atmosphere. But no living creature was to be seen
or heard anywhere. It was while the two of us, having examined every
inch of wall, I should think, in the building, were standing staring
rather blankly at each other in the room with the lighted lantern, that
I saw Harley's expression change.

"Why," he muttered, "is this one room illuminated--and all the others in
darkness?"

Even then the significance of this circumstance was not apparent to me.
But Harley stared critically at an electric switch which was placed on
the immediate right of the door and then up at the silk-shaded lantern
which lighted the room. Crossing, he raised and lowered the switch
rapidly, but the lamp continued to burn uninterruptedly!

"Ah!" he said--"a good trick!"

Grasping the wooden block to which the switch was attached, he turned it
bodily--and I saw that it was a masked knob; for in the next moment he
had pulled open the narrow section of wall--which proved to be nothing
less than a cunningly fitted door!

A small, dimly lighted apartment was revealed, the Oriental note still
predominant in its appointments, which, however, were few, and which I
scarcely paused to note. For lying upon a mattress in this place was a
pretty, fair-haired girl!

She lay on her side, having one white arm thrown out and resting limply
on the floor, and she seemed to be in a semi-conscious condition, for
although her fine eyes were widely opened, they had a glassy, witless
look, and she was evidently unaware of our presence.

"Look at her pupils," rapped Harley. "They have drugged her with bhang!
Poor, pretty fool!"

"Good God!" I cried. "Who is this, Harley?"

"Molly Clayton!" he answered. "Thank heaven we have saved one victim
from Ali of Cairo."

V

THE HAREM AGENCY

Owing to the instrumentality of Paul