THE GOLDEN SCORPION

by

SAX ROHMER

1920

Part I

THE COWLED MAN

 I The Shadow of a Cowl II The Pilbroch of the M'Gregors III The Scorpion's Tail IV Mademoiselle Dorian V The Sealed Envelope VI The Assistant Commissioner VII Contents of the Sealed Envelope VIII The Assistant Commissioner's Theory IX The Chinese Coin X "Close Your Shutters at Night" XI The Blue Ray

Part II

STATEMENT OF M. GASTON MAX

I. THE DANCER OF MONTMARTRE

 I Zara el-Khala II Concerning the Grand Duke III A Strange Question IV The Fight in the Cafe

II. "LE BALAFRE"

 I I Become Charles Malet II Baiting the Trap III Disappearance of Charles Malet IV I Meet an Old Acquaintance V Conclusion of Statement

Part III

AT THE HOUSE OF AH-FANG-FU

 I The Brain Thieves II The Red Circle III Miska's Story IV Miska's Story (concluded) V The Heart of Chunda Lal VI The Man with the Scar VII In the Opium Den VIII The Green-Eyed Joss

Part IV

THE LAIR OF THE SCORPION

 I The Sublime Order II The Living Death III The Fifth Secret of Rache Churan IV The Guile of the East V What Happened to Stuart VI "Jey Bhowani!" VII The Way of the Scorpion

Part I

THE COWLED MAN

CHAPTER I

THE SHADOW OF A COWL

Keppel Stuart, M. D. , F. R. S. , awoke with a start and discoveredhimself to be bathed in cold perspiration. The moonlight shone in athis window, but did not touch the bed, therefore his awakening couldnot be due to this cause. He lay for some time listening for anyunfamiliar noise which might account for the sudden disturbance ofhis usually sound slumbers. In the house below nothing stirred. Hiswindows were widely open and he could detect that vague drummingwhich is characteristic of midnight London; sometimes, too, theclashing of buffers upon some siding of the Brighton railway whereshunting was in progress and occasional siren notes from the Thames. Otherwise--nothing. 

He glanced at the luminous disk of his watch. The hour was half-pasttwo. Dawn was not far off. The night seemed to have become almostintolerably hot, and to this heat Stuart felt disposed to ascribeboth his awakening and also a feeling of uncomfortable tension ofwhich he now became aware. He continued to listen, and, listeningand hearing nothing, recognized with anger that he was frightened. A sense of some presence oppressed him. Someone or something evilwas near him--perhaps in the room, veiled by the shadows. Thisuncanny sensation grew more and more marked. 

Stuart sat up in bed, slowly and cautiously, looking all about him. He remembered to have awakened once thus in India--and to have founda great cobra coiled at his feet. His inspection revealed thepresence of nothing unfamiliar, and he stepped out on to the floor. 

A faint clicking sound reached his ears. He stood quite still. Theclicking was repeated. 

"There is someone downstairs in my study!" muttered Stuart. 

He became aware that the fear which held him was such that unless heacted and acted swiftly he should become incapable of action, but heremembered that whereas the moonlight poured into the bedroom, thestaircase would be in complete darkness. He walked barefooted acrossto the dressing-table and took up an electric torch which lay there. He had not used it for some time, and he pressed the button to learnif the torch was charged. A beam of white light shone out across theroom, and at the same instant came another sound. 

If it came from below or above, from the adjoining room or from

Outside in the road, Stuart knew not. But following hard upon themysterious disturbance which had aroused him it seemed to pour iceinto his veins, it added the complementary touch to his panic. Forit was a kind of low wail--a ghostly minor wail in fallingcadences--unlike any sound he had heard. It was so excessivelyhorrible that it produced a curious effect. 

Discovering from the dancing of the torch-ray that his hand wastrembling, Stuart concluded that he had awakened from a nightmareand that this fiendish wailing was no more than an unusually delayedaftermath of the imaginary horrors which had bathed him in coldperspiration. 

He walked resolutely to the door, threw it open and cast the beam oflight on to the staircase. Softly he began to descend. Before thestudy door he paused. There was no sound. He threw open the door, directing the torch-ray into the room. 

Cutting a white lane through the blackness, it shone fully upon hiswriting-table, which was a rather fine Jacobean piece having a sortof quaint bureau superstructure containing cabinets and drawers. Hecould detect nothing unusual in the appearance of the littered table. A tobacco jar stood there, a pipe resting in the lid. Papers andbooks were scattered untidily as he had left them, surrounding a trayfull of pipe and cigarette ash. Then, suddenly, he saw something else. 

One of the bureau drawers was half opened. 

Stuart stood quite still, staring at the table. There was no sound inthe room. He crossed slowly, moving the light from right to left. Hispapers had been overhauled methodically. The drawers had beenreplaced, but he felt assured that all had been examined. The lightswitch was immediately beside the outer door, and Stuart walkedover to it and switched on both lamps. Turning, he surveyed thebrilliantly illuminated room. Save for himself, it was empty. Helooked out into the hallway again. There was no one there. No soundbroke the stillness. But that consciousness of some near presenceasserted itself persistently and uncannily. 

"My nerves are out of order!" he muttered. "No one has touched mypapers. I must have left the drawer open myself. "

He switched off the light and walked across to the door. He hadactually passed out intending to return to his room, when he becameaware of a slight draught. He stopped. 

Someone or something, evil and watchful, seemed to be very near again. Stuart turned and found himself gazing fearfully in the direction ofthe open study door. He became persuaded anew that someone was hidingthere, and snatching up an ash stick which lay upon a chair in thehall he returned to the door. One step into the room he took andpaused--palsied with a sudden fear which exceeded anything he hadknown. 

A white casement curtain was drawn across the French windows ... Andoutlined upon this moon-bright screen he saw a tall figure. It wasthat of a _cowled man_!

Such an apparition would have been sufficiently alarming had the cowlbeen that of a monk, but the outline of this phantom being suggestedthat of one of the Misericordia brethren or the costume worn of oldby the familiars of the Inquisition!

His heart leapt wildly, and seemed to grow still. He sought to cry outin his terror, but only emitted a dry gasping sound. 

The psychology of panic is obscure and has been but imperfectlyexplored. The presence of the terrible cowled figure afforded aconfirmation of Stuart's theory that he was the victim of a speciesof waking nightmare. 

Even as he looked, the shadow of the cowled man moved--and was gone. 

Stuart ran across the room, jerked open the curtains and stared outacross the moon-bathed lawn, its prospect terminated by high privethedges. One of the French windows was wide open. There was no one onthe lawn; there was no sound. 

"Mrs. M'Gregor swears that I always forget to shut these windows atnight!" he muttered. 

He closed and bolted the window, stood for a moment looking out acrossthe empty lawn, then turned and went out of the room. 

CHAPTER II

THE PIBROCH OF THE M'GREGORS

Dr. Stuart awoke in the morning and tried to recall what had occurredduring the night. He consulted his watch and found the hour to be sixa. M. No one was stirring in the house, and he rose and put on abath robe. He felt perfectly well and could detect no symptoms ofnervous disorder. Bright sunlight was streaming into the room, andhe went out on to the landing, fastening the cord of his gown as hedescended the stairs. 

His study door was locked, with the key outside. He remembered havinglocked it. Opening it, he entered and looked about him. He wasvaguely disappointed. Save for the untidy litter of papers upon thetable, the study was as he had left it on retiring. If he couldbelieve the evidence of his senses, nothing had been disturbed. 

Not content with a casual inspection, he particularly examined thosepapers which, in his dream adventure, he had believed to have beensubmitted to mysterious inspection. They showed no signs of havingbeen touched. The casement curtains were drawn across the recessformed by the French windows, and sunlight streamed in where, silhouetted against the pallid illumination of the moon, he had seenthe man in the cowl. Drawing back the curtains, he examined the windowfastenings. They were secure. If the window had really been open inthe night, he must have left it so himself. 

"Well, " muttered Stuart--"of all the amazing nightmares!"

He determined, immediately he had bathed and completed his toilet, towrite an account of the dream for the Psychical Research Society, inwhose work he was interested. Half an hour later, as the movements ofan awakened household began to proclaim themselves, he sat down athis writing-table and commenced to write. 

Keppel Stuart was a dark, good-looking man of about thirty-two, aneasy-going bachelor who, whilst not over ambitious, was neverthelessa brilliant physician. He had worked for the Liverpool School ofTropical Medicine and had spent several years in India studying snakepoisons. His purchase of this humdrum suburban practice had beendictated by a desire to make a home for a girl who at the eleventhhour had declined to share it. Two years had elapsed since then, butthe shadow still lay upon Stuart's life, its influence being revealedin a certain apathy, almost indifference, which characterised hisprofessional conduct. 

His account of the dream completed, he put the paper into apigeon-hole and forgot all about the matter. That day seemed to bemore than usually dull and the hours to drag wearily on. He wasconscious of a sort of suspense. He was waiting for something, or forsomeone. He did not choose to analyse this mental condition. Had hedone so, the explanation was simple--and one that he dared not face. 

At about ten o'clock that night, having been called out to a case, hereturned to his house, walking straight into the study as was hiscustom and casting a light Burberry with a soft hat upon the sofabeside his stick and bag. The lamps were lighted, and the book-linedroom, indicative of a studious and not over-wealthy bachelor, lookedcheerful enough with the firelight dancing on the furniture. 

Mrs. M'Gregor, a grey-haired Scotch lady, attired with scrupulousneatness, was tending the fire at the moment, and hearing Stuart comein she turned and glanced at him. 

"A fire is rather superfluous to-night, Mrs. M'Gregor, " he said. "Ifound it unpleasantly warm walking. "

"May is a fearsome treacherous month, Mr. Keppel, " replied the oldhousekeeper, who from long association with the strugglingpractitioner had come to regard him as a son. "An' a wheen o' drylogs is worth a barrel o' pheesic. To which I would add that if ye'rehintin' it's time ye shed ye're woolsies for ye're summer wear, all Ihave to reply is that I hope sincerely ye're patients are moreprudent than yoursel'. "

She placed his slippers in the fender and took up the hat, stick andcoat from the sofa. Stuart laughed. 

"Most of the neighbors exhibit their wisdom by refraining frombecoming patients of mine, Mrs. M'Gregor. "

"That's no weesdom; it's just preejudice. ""Prejudice!" cried Stuart, dropping down upon the sofa. 

"Aye, " replied Mrs. M'Gregor firmly--"preejudice! They're no' thatdaft but they're well aware o' who's the cleverest physeecian in thedeestrict, an' they come to nane other than Dr. Keppel Stuart whenthey're sair sick and think they're dying; but ye'll never establishthe practice you desairve, Mr. Keppel--never--until--"

"Until when, Mrs. M'Gregor?"

"Until ye take heed of an auld wife's advice and find a newhousekeeper. "

"Mrs. M'Gregor!" exclaimed Stuart with concern. "You don't mean thatyou want to desert me? After--let me see--how many years is it, Mrs. M'Gregor?"

"Thirty years come last Shrove Tuesday; I dandled ye on my knee, andeh! but ye were bonny! God forbid, but I'd like to see ye thriving asye desairve, and that ye'll never do whilst ye're a bachelor. "

"Oh!" cried Stuart, laughing again--"oh, that's it, is it? So youwould like me to find some poor inoffensive girl to share my struggles?"

Mrs. M'Gregor nodded wisely. "She'd have nane so many to share. Iknow ye think I'm old-fashioned, Mr. Keppel and it may be I am; butI do assure you I would be sair harassed, if stricken to my bed--which, please God, I won't be--to receive the veesits of a pairsonable youngbachelor--"

"Er--Mrs. M'Gregor!" interrupted Stuart, coughing in mockrebuke--"quite so! I fancy we have discussed this point before, andas you say your ideas are a wee bit, just a wee bit, behind the times. On this particular point I mean. But I am very grateful to you, verysincerely grateful, for your disinterested kindness; and if ever Ishould follow your advice----"

Mrs. M'Gregor interrupted him, pointing to his boots. "Ye're no' thatdaft as to sit in wet boots?"

"Really they are perfectly dry. Except for a light shower thisevening, there has been no rain for several days. However, I may aswell, since I shall not be going out again. "

He began to unlace his boots as Mrs. M'Gregor pulled the whitecasement curtains across the windows and then prepared to retire. Herhand upon the door knob, she turned again to Stuart. 

"The foreign lady called half an hour since, Mr. Keppel. "

Stuart desisted from unlacing his boots and looked up with livelyinterest. "Mlle. Dorian! Did she leave any message?"

"She obsairved that she might repeat her veesit later, " repliedMrs. M'Gregor, and, after a moment's hesitation; "she awaited ye'rereturn with exemplary patience. "

"Really, I am sorry I was detained, " declared Stuart, replacing hisboot. "How long has she been gone, then?"

"Just the now. No more than two or three minutes. I trust she is noworse. "

"Worse!"

"The lass seemed o'er anxious to see you. "

"Well, you know, Mrs. M'Gregor, she comes a considerable distance. "

"So I am given to understand, Mr. Keppel, " replied the old lady;"and in a grand luxurious car. "

Stuart assumed an expression of perplexity to hide his embarrassment. "Mrs. M'Gregor, " he said rather ruefully, "you watch over me astenderly as my own mother would have done. I have observed a certainrestraint in your manner whenever you have had occasion to refer toMlle. Dorian. In what way does she differ from my other ladypatients?" And even as he spoke the words he knew in his heart thatshe differed from every other woman in the world. 

Mrs. M'Gregor sniffed. "Do your other lady patients wear furs thatyour airnings for six months could never pay for, Mr. Keppel?" sheinquired. 

"No, unfortunately they pin their faith, for the most part, to gailycoloured shawls. All the more reason why I should bless the accidentwhich led Mlle. Dorian to my door. "

Mrs. M'Gregor, betraying, in her interest, real suspicion, murmured_sotto voce_: "Then she _is_ a patient?"

"What's that?" asked Stuart, regarding her surprisedly. "A patient?Certainly. She suffers from insomnia. "

"I'm no' surprised to hear it. "

"What do you mean, Mrs. M'Gregor?"

"Now, Mr. Keppel, laddie, ye're angry with me, and like enough I ama meddlesome auld woman. But I know what a man will do for shiningeen and a winsome face--nane better to my sorrow--and twa times haveI heard the Warning. "

Stuart stood up in real perplexity. "Pardon my density, Mrs. M'Gregor, but--er--the Warning? To what 'warning' do you refer?"

Seating herself in the chair before the writing-table, Mrs. M'Gregorshook her head pensively. "What would it be, " she said softly, "butthe Pibroch o' the M'Gregors?"

Stuart came across and leaned upon a corner of the table. "ThePibroch of the M'Gregors?" he repeated. 

"Nane other. 'Tis said to be Rob Roy's ain piper that gives warningwhen danger threatens ane o' the M'Gregors or any they love. "

Stuart restrained a smile, and, "A well-meaning but melancholyretainer!" he commented. 

"As well as I hear you now, laddie, I heard the pibroch on the day acertain woman first crossed my threshold, nigh thirty years ago, inInverary. And as plainly as I heard it wailing then, I heard it thefirst evening that Miss Dorian came to this house!"

Torn between good-humoured amusement and real interest, "If I rememberrightly, " said Stuart, "Mlle. Dorian first called here just a week ago, and immediately before I returned from an Infirmary case?"

"Your memory is guid, Mr. Keppel. "

"And when, exactly, did you hear this Warning?"

"Twa minutes before you entered the house; and I heard it again thenow. "

"What! you heard it to-night?"

"I heard it again just the now and I lookit out the window. "

"Did you obtain a glimpse of Rob Roy's piper?"

"Ye're laughing at an old wife, laddie. No, but I saw Miss Dorian awayin her car and twa minutes later I saw yourself coming round thecorner. "

"If she had only waited another two minutes, " murmured Stuart. "Nomatter; she may return. And are these the only occasions upon whichyou have heard this mysterious sound, Mrs. M'Gregor?"

"No, Master Keppel, they are not. I assure ye something threatens. Itwakened me up in the wee sma' hours last night--the piping--an' I layawake shaking for long eno'. "

"How extraordinary. Are you sure your imagination is not playing youtricks?"

"Ah, you're no' takin' me seriously, laddie. "

"Mrs. M'Gregor"--he leaned across the table and rested his hands uponher shoulders--"you are a second mother to me, your care makes me feellike a boy again; and in these grey days it's good to feel like a boyagain. You think I am laughing at you, but I'm not. The strangetradition of your family is associated with a tragedy in your life;therefore I respect it. But have no fear with regard to Mlle. Dorian. In the first place she is a patient; in the second--I am merely apenniless suburban practitioner. Good-night, Mrs. M'Gregor. Don'tthink of waiting up. Tell Mary to show Mademoiselle in here directlyshe arrives--that is if she really returns. "

Mrs. M'Gregor stood up and walked slowly to the door. "I'll showMademoiselle in mysel', Mr. Keppel, " she said, --"and show her out. "

She closed the door very quietly. 

CHAPTER III

THE SCORPION'S TAIL

Seating himself at the writing-table, Stuart began mechanically toarrange his papers. Then from the tobacco jar he loaded his pipe, but his manner remained abstracted. Yet he was not thinking of thephantom piper but of Mlle. Dorian. 

Until he had met this bewilderingly pretty woman he had thought thathis heart was for evermore proof against the glances of bright eyes. Mademoiselle had disillusioned him. She was the most fragrantly lovelycreature he had ever met, and never for one waking moment since herfirst visit, had he succeeded in driving her bewitching image fromhis mind. He had tried to laugh at his own folly, then had grown angrywith himself, but finally had settled down to a dismayed acceptanceof a wild infatuation. 

He had no idea who Mlle. Dorian was; he did not even know her exactnationality, but he strongly suspected there was a strain of Easternblood in her veins. Although she was quite young, apparently littlemore than twenty years of age, she dressed like a woman of unlimitedmeans, and although all her visits had been at night he had hadglimpses of the big car which had aroused Mrs. M'Gregor's displeasure. 

Yes--so ran his musings, as, pipe in mouth, he rested his chin in hishands and stared grimly into the fire--she had always come at nightand always alone. He had supposed her to be a Frenchwoman, but anunmarried French girl of good family does not make late calls, evenupon a medical man, unattended. Had he perchance unwittingly madehimself a party to the escapade of some unruly member of a noblefamily? From the first he had shrewdly suspected the ailments of Mlle. Dorian to be imaginary--Mlle. Dorian? It was an odd name. 

"I shall be imagining she is a disguised princess if I wonder abouther any more!" he muttered angrily. 

Detecting himself in the act of heaving a weary sigh, he coughed inself-reproval and reached into a pigeon-hole for the MS. Of hisunfinished paper on "Snake Poisons and Their Antidotes. " By chance hepulled out the brief account, written the same morning, of his uncannyexperience during the night. He read it through reflectively. 

It was incomplete. A certain mental haziness which he had noted uponawakening had in some way obscured the facts. His memory of the dreamhad been imperfect. Even now, whilst recognizing that some feature ofthe experience was missing from his written account, he could notidentify the omission. But one memory arose starkly before him--thatof the cowled man who had stood behind the curtains. It had power tochill him yet. The old incredulity returned and methodically here-examined the contents of some of the table drawers. Ere long, however, he desisted impatiently. 

"What the devil could a penniless doctor have hidden in his desk thatwas worth stealing!" he said aloud. "I must avoid cold salmon andcucumber in future. "

He tossed the statement aside and turned to his scientific paper. 

There came knock at the door. 

"Come in!" snapped Stuart irritably; but the next moment he had turned, eager-eyed to the servant who had entered. 

"Inspector Dunbar has called, sir. "

"Oh, all right, " said Stuart, repressing another sigh. "Show him inhere. "

There entered, shortly, a man of unusual height, a man gaunt andsquare both of figure and of face. He wore his clothes and his hairuntidily. He was iron grey and a grim mouth was ill concealed by thewiry moustache. The most notable features of a striking face were thetawny leonine eyes, which could be fierce, which could be pensive andwhich were often kindly. 

"Good evening, doctor, " he said--and his voice was pleasant andunexpectedly light in tome. "Hope I don't intrude. "

"Not at all, Inspector, " Stuart assured him. 

"Make yourself comfortable in the armchair and fill your pipe. "

"Thanks, " said Dunbar. "I will. " He took out his pipe and reached outa long arm for the tobacco jar. "I came to see if you could give me atip on a matter that has cropped up. "

"Something in my line?" asked Stuart, a keen professional look comingmomentarily into his eyes. 

"It's supposed to be a poison case, although I can't see it myself, "answered the detective--to whom Keppel Stuart's unusual knowledge ofpoisons had been of service in the past; "but if what I suspect istrue, it's a very big case all the same. "

Laying down his pipe, which he had filled but not lighted, InspectorDunbar pulled out from the inside pocket of his tweed coat a bulgingnote-book and extracted therefrom some small object wrapped up intissue paper. Unwrapping this object, he laid it upon the table. 

"Tell me what that is, doctor, " he said, "and I shall be obliged. "

Stuart peered closely at that which lay before him. It was a piece ofcuriously shaped gold, cunningly engraved in a most unusual way. Rather less than an inch in length, it formed a crescent made up ofsix oval segments joined one to another, the sixth terminating in acurled point. The first and largest segment ended jaggedly where ithad evidently been snapped off from the rest of the ornament--if thething had formed part of an ornament. Stuart looked up, frowning ina puzzled way. 

"It is a most curious fragment of jewellery--possibly of Indianorigin, " he said. 

Inspector Dunbar lighted his pipe and tossed the match-end into thefire. "But what does it represent?" he asked. 

"Oh, as to that--I said a _curious_ fragment advisedly, because Icannot imagine any woman wearing such a beastly thing. It is the _tailof a scorpion. _"

"Ah!" cried Dunbar, the tawny eyes glittering with excitement. "Thetail of a scorpion! I thought so! And Sowerby would have it that itrepresented the stem of a Cactus or Prickly Pear!"

"Not so bad a guess, " replied Stuart. "There _are_ resemblances--notin the originals but in such a miniature reproduction as this. He waswrong, however. May I ask where you obtained the fragment?"

"I'm here to tell you, doctor, for now that I know it's a scorpion'stail I know that I'm out of my depth as well. You've travelled inthe East and lived in the East--two very different things. Now, whileyou were out there, in India, China, Burma, and so on, did you evercome across a religion or a cult that worshipped scorpions?"

Stuart frowned thoughtfully, rubbing his chin with the mouthpiece ofhis pipe. Dunbar watched him expectantly. 

"Help yourself to whiskey-and-soda, Inspector, " said Stuart absently. "You'll find everything on the side-table yonder. I'm thinking. "

Inspector Dunbar nodded, stood up and crossed the room, where hebusied himself with syphon and decanter. Presently he returned, carrying two full glasses, one of which he set before Stuart. "What'sthe answer, doctor?" he asked. 

"The answer is _no_. I am not acquainted with any sect ofscorpion-worshippers, Inspector. But I once met with a curiousexperience at Su-Chow in China, which I have never been able toexplain, but which may interest you. It wanted but a few minutes tosunset, and I was anxious to get back to my quarters before dusk fell. Therefore I hurried up my boy, who was drawing the rickshaw, tellinghim to cross the Canal by the Wu-men Bridge. He ran fleetly in thatdirection, and we were actually come to the steep acclivity of thebridge, when suddenly the boy dropped the shafts and fell down on hisknees, hiding his face in his hands. 

"'Shut your eyes tightly, master!' he whispered. 'The Scorpion iscoming!'

"I stared down at him in amazement, as was natural, and not a littleangrily; for his sudden action had almost pitched me on my head. Butthere he crouched, immovable, and staring up the slope I say that itwas entirely deserted except for one strange figure at that momentcrossing the crown of the bridge and approaching. It was the figureof a tall and dignified Chinaman, or of one who wore the dress of aChinaman. For the extra-ordinary thing about the stranger's appearancewas this; he also wore a thick green veil!"

"Covering his face?"

"So as to cover his face completely. I was staring at him in wonder, when the boy, seeming to divine the other's approach, whispered, 'Turn your head away! Turn your head away!"

"He was referring to the man with the veil?"

"Undoubtedly. Of course I did nothing of the kind, but it wasimpossible to discern the stranger's features through the thick gauze, although he passed quite close to me. He had not proceeded anotherthree paces, I should think, before my boy had snatched up the shaftsand darted across the bridge as though all hell were after him! Here'sthe odd thing, though; I could never induce him to speak a word on thesubject afterwards! I bullied him and bribed him, but all to nopurpose. And although I must have asked more than a hundred Chinamenin every station of society from mandarin to mendicant, 'Who or whatis _The Scorpion?_' one and all looked stupid, blandly assuring methat they did not know what I meant. "

"H'm!" said Dunbar, "it's a queer yarn, certainly. How long ago wouldthat be, doctor?"

"Roughly--five years. "

"It sounds as though it might belong to the case. Some months back, early in the winter, we received instructions at the Yard to look outeverywhere in the press, in buffets, theatres, but particularly incriminal quarters, for any reference (of any kind whatever) to ascorpion. I was so puzzled that I saw the Commissioner about it, and he could tell me next to nothing. He said the word had comethrough from Paris, but that Paris seemed to know no more about itthan we did. It was associated in some way with the sudden deaths ofseveral notable public men about that time; but as there was noevidence of foul play in any of the cases, I couldn't see what itmeant at all. Then, six weeks ago, Sir Frank Narcombe, the surgeon, fell dead in the foyer of a West-End theatre--you remember?"

CHAPTER IV

MADEMOISELLE DORIAN

The telephone bell rang. 

Stuart reached across for the instrument and raised the receiver. "Yes, " he said--"Dr. Stuart speaking. Inspector Dunbar is here. Holdon. "

He passed the instrument to Dunbar, who had stood up on hearing hisname mentioned. "Sergeant Sowerby at Scotland Yard wishes to speakto you, Inspector. "

"Hullo, " said Dunbar--"that you, Sowerby. Yes--but I arrived hereonly a short time ago. What's that?--Max? Good God! what does it allmean! Are you sure of the number--49685? Poor chap--he should haveworked with us instead of going off alone like that. But he wasalways given to that sort of thing. Wait for me. I'll be with you ina few minutes. I can get a taxi. And, Sowerby--listen! It's 'TheScorpion' case right enough. That bit of gold found on the dead manis not a cactus stem; it's a scorpion's tail!"

He put down the telephone and turned to Stuart, who had been listeningto the words with growing concern. Dunbar struck his open palm downon to the table with a violent gesture. 

"We have been asleep!" he exclaimed. "Gaston Max of the Paris Servicehas been at work in London for a month, and we didn't know it!"

"Gaston Max!" cried Start--"then it must be a big case indeed. "

As a student of criminology the name of the celebrated Frenchman wasfamiliar to him as that of the foremost criminal investigator inEurope, and he found himself staring at the fragment of gold with a newand keener interest. 

"Poor chap, " continued Dunbar--"it was his last. The body brought infrom Hanover Hole has been identified as his. "

"What! it is the body of Gaston Max!"

"Paris has just wired that Max's reports ceased over a week ago. Hewas working on the case of Sir Frank Narcombe, it seems, and I neverknew! But I predicted a long time ago that Max would play thelone-hand game once too often. They sent particulars. Theidentification disk is his. Oh! there's no doubt about it, unfortunately. The dead man's face is unrecognizable, but it's notlikely there are two disks of that sort bearing the initials G. M. Andthe number 49685. I'm going along now. Should you care to come, doctor?"

"I am expecting a patient, Inspector, " replied Stuart--"er--a specialcase. But I hope you will keep me in touch with this affair?"

"Well, I shouldn't have suggested your coming to the Yard if I hadn'twanted to do that. As a matter of fact, this scorpion job seems toresolve itself into a case of elaborate assassination by means ofsome unknown poison; and although I should have come to see you inany event, because you have helped me more than once, I came to-nightat the suggestion of the Commissioner. He instructed me to retainyour services if they were available. "

"I am honoured, " replied Stuart. "But after all, Inspector, I ammerely an ordinary suburban practitioner. My reputation has yet tobe made. What's the matter with Halesowen of Upper Wimpole Street?He's the big man. "

"And if Sir Frank Narcombe was really poisoned--as Paris seems tothink he was--he's also a big fool. " retorted Dunbar bluntly. "Heagreed that death was due to heart trouble. "

"I know he did; unsuspected ulcerative endocarditis. Perhaps he wasright. "

"If he was right, " said Dunbar, taking up the piece of gold from thetable, "what was Gaston Max doing with this thing in his possession?"

"There may be no earthly connection between Max's inquiries and thedeath of Sir Frank. "

"On the other hand--there may! Leaving Dr. Halesowen out of thequestion, are you open to act as expert adviser in this case?"

"Certainly; delighted. "

"Your fee is your own affair, doctor. I will communicate with youlater, if you wish, or call again in the morning. "

Dunbar wrapped up the scorpion's tail in the piece of tissue paperand was about to replace it in his note-case. Then:

"I'll leave this with you, doctor, " he said. "I know it will be safeenough, and you might like to examine it at greater leisure. "

"Very well, " replied Stuart. "Some of the engraving is very minute. I will have a look at it through a glass later. "

He took the fragment from Dunbar, who had again unwrapped it, and, opening a drawer of the writing-table in which he kept his cheque-bookand some few other personal valuables, he placed the curious piece ofgold-work within and relocked the drawer. 

"I will walk as far as the cab-rank with you, " he said, findinghimself to be possessed of a spirit of unrest. Whereupon the two wentout of the room, Stuart extinguishing the lamps as he came to thedoor. 

They had not left the study for more than two minutes ere a car drewup outside the house, and Mrs. M'Gregor ushered a lady into the roombut lately quitted by Stuart and Dunbar, turning up the lights as sheentered. 

"The doctor has gone out but just now, Miss Dorian, " she said stiffly. "I am sorry that ye are so unfortunate in your veesits. But I knowhe'll be no more than a few minutes. "

The girl addressed was of a type fully to account for the misgivingsof the shrewd old Scotswoman. She had the slim beauty of the Eastallied to the elegance of the West. Her features, whilst cast in acharming European mould, at the same time suggested in some subtleway the Oriental. She had the long, almond-shaped eyes of the Egyptian, and her hair, which she wore unconventionally in a picturesquefashion reminiscent of the _harem_, was inclined to be "fuzzy, " butgleamed with coppery tints where the light touched its waves. 

She wore a cloak of purple velvet having a hooded collar of white foxfur; it fastened with golden cords. Beneath it was a white and goldrobe, cut with classic simplicity of line and confined at the waistby an ornate Eastern girdle. White stockings and dull gold shoesexhibited to advantage her charming little feet and slim ankles, and she carried a handbag of Indian beadwork. Mlle. Dorian was a figurecalculated to fire the imagination of any man and to linger long andsweetly in the memory. 

Mrs. M'Gregor, palpably ill at ease, conducted her to an armchair. 

"You are very good, " said the visitor, speaking with a certainhesitancy and with a slight accent most musical and fascinating. "I wait a while if I may. "

"Dear, dear, " muttered Mrs. M'Gregor, beginning to poke the fire, "hehas let the fire down, of course! Is it out? No ... I see a weesparkie!"

She set the poker upright before the nearly extinguished fire andturned triumphantly to Mlle. Dorian, who was watching her with aslight smile. 

"That will be a comforting blaze in a few minutes, Miss Dorian, " shesaid, and went towards the door. 

"If you please, " called the girl, detaining her--"do you permit me tospeak on the telephone a moment? As Dr. Stuart is not at home, I mustexplain that I wait for him. "

"Certainly, Miss Dorian, " replied Mrs. M'Gregor; "use the telephoneby all means. But I think the doctor will be back any moment now. "

"Thank you so much. "

Mrs. M'Gregor went out, not without a final backward glance at theelegant figure in the armchair. Mlle. Dorian was seated, her chinresting in her hand and her elbow upon the arm of the chair, gazinginto the smoke arising from the nearly extinguished ember of the fire. The door closed, and Mrs. M'Gregor's footsteps could be heard recedingalong the corridor. 

Mlle. Dorian sprang from the chair and took out of her handbag anumber of small keys attached to a ring. Furtively she crossed theroom, all the time listening intently, and cast her cloak over theback of the chair which was placed before the writing-table. Her robeof white and gold clung to her shapely figure as she bent over thetable and tried three of the keys in the lock of the drawer whichcontained Stuart's cheque-book and in which he had recently placedthe mysterious gold ornament. The third key fitted the lock, and Mlle. Dorian pulled open the drawer. She discovered first the cheque-bookand next a private account-book; then from under the latter she drewout a foolscap envelope sealed with red wax and bearing, in Stuart'shandwriting, the address:

 Lost Property Office, Metropolitan Police, New Scotland Yard, S. W. I. 

She uttered a subdued exclamation; then, as a spark of light gleamedwithin the open drawer, she gazed as if stupefied at the littleornament which she had suddenly perceived lying near the cheque-book. She picked it up and stared at it aghast. A moment she hesitated;then, laying down the fragment of gold and also the long envelope uponthe table, she took up the telephone. Keeping her eyes fixed upon theclosed door of the study, she asked for the number East 89512, andwhilst she waited for the connection continued that nervous watchingand listening. Suddenly she began to speak, in a low voice. 

"Yes! ... Miska speaks. Listen! One of the new keys--it fits. I havethe envelope. But, also in the same drawer, I find a part of a brokengold _'agrab_ (scorpion). Yes, it is broken. It must be they find it, on him. " Her manner grew more and more agitated. "Shall I bring it?The envelope it is very large. I do not know if----"

From somewhere outside the house came a low, wailing cry--a cry whichStuart, if he had heard it, must have recognized to be identical withthat which he had heard in the night--but which he had forgotten torecord in his written account. 

"Ah!" whispered the girl--"there is the signal! It is the doctor whoreturns. " She listened eagerly, fearfully, to the voice which spokeover the wires. "Yes--yes!"

Always glancing toward the door, she put down the instrument, tookup the long envelope and paused for a moment, thinking that she hadheard the sound of approaching footsteps. She exhibited signs ofnervous indecision, tried to thrust the envelope into her little bagand realized that even folded it would not fit so as to escapeobservation. She ran across to the grate and dropped the envelopeupon the smouldering fire. As she did so, the nicely balanced pokerfell with a clatter upon the tiled hearth. 

She started wildly, ran back to the table, took up the broken ornamentand was about to thrust it into the open drawer, when the study doorwas flung open and Stuart came in. 

CHAPTER V

THE SEALED ENVELOPE

"MADEMOISELLE DORIAN!" cried Stuart joyously, advancing withoutstretched hand. She leaned back against the table watching him--andsuddenly he perceived the open drawer. He stopped. His expressionchanged to one of surprise and anger, and the girl's slim fingersconvulsively clutched the table edge as she confronted him. Herexquisite colour fled and left her pallid, dark-eyed and dismayed. 

"So, " he said bitterly--"I returned none too soon, Mlle. --_Dorian_"

"Oh! she whispered, and shrank from him as he approached nearer. 

"Your object in selecting an obscure practitioner for your medicaladviser becomes painfully evident to me. Diagnosis of your case wouldhave been much more easy if I had associated your symptoms with thepresence in my table drawer of"--he hesitated--"of something whichyou have taken out. Give me whatever you have stolen and composeyourself to await the arrival of the police. "

He was cruel in his disillusionment. Here lay the explanation of hisromance; here was his disguised princess--a common thief! She staredat him wildly. 

"I take nothing!" she cried. "Oh, let me go! Please, please let me go!"

"Pleading is useless. What have you stolen?"

"Nothing--see. " She cast the little gold ornament on the table. "Ilook at this, but I do not mean to steal it. "

She raised her beautiful eyes to his face again, and he found himselfwavering. That she had made his acquaintance in order to steal thefragment of the golden scorpion was impossible, for he had notpossessed it at the time of her first visit. He was hopelesslymystified and utterly miserable. 

"How did you open the drawer?" he asked sternly. 

She took up the bunch of keys which lay upon the table and naivelyexhibited that which fitted the lock of the drawer. Her hands wereshaking. 

"Where did you obtain this key; and why?"

She watched him intently, her lips trembling and her eyes wells ofsorrow into which he could not gaze unmoved. 

"If I tell you--will you let me go?"

"I shall make no promises, for I can believe nothing that you maytell me. You gained my confidence by a lie--and now, by another lie, you seem to think that you can induce me to overlook a deliberateattempt at burglary--common burglary. " He clenched his hands. "Heavens! I could never have believed it of you!"

She flinched as though from a blow and regarded him pitifully as hestood, head averted. 

"Oh, please listen to me, " she whispered. "At first I tell you a lie, yes. "

"And now?"

"Now--I tell you the truth. "

"That you are a petty thief?"

"Ah! you are cruel--you have no pity! You judge me as you judge--oneof your Englishwomen. Perhaps I cannot help what I do. In the East awoman is a chattel and has no will of her own. "

"A chattel!" cried Stuart scornfully. "Your resemblance to the'chattels' of the East is a remote one. There is Eastern blood inyour veins, no doubt, but you are educated, you are a linguist, youknow the world. Right and wrong are recognizable to the lowest savage. "

"And if they recognize, but are helpless?"

Stuart made a gesture of impatience. 

"You are simply seeking to enlist my sympathy, " he said bitterly. "But you have said nothing which inclines me to listen to you anylonger. Apart from the shock of finding you to be--what you are, Iam utterly mystified as to your object. I am a poor man. The entirecontents of my house would fetch only a few hundred pounds if soldto-morrow. Yet you risk your liberty to rifle my bureau. For the lasttime--what have you taken from that drawer?"

She leaned back against the table, toying with the broken piece ofgold and glancing down at it as she did so. Her long lashes castshadows below her eyes, and a hint of colour was returning to hercheeks. Stuart studied her attentively--even delightedly, for allher shortcomings, and knew in his heart that he could never give herin charge of the police. More and more the wonder of it all grew uponhim, and now he suddenly found himself thinking of the unexplainedincident of the previous night. 

"You do not answer, " he said. "I will ask you another question: haveyou attempted to open that drawer prior to this evening?"

Mlle. Dorian looked up rapidly, and her cheeks, which had been pale, now flushed rosily. 

"I try twice before, " she confessed, "and cannot open it. "

"Ah! And--has _someone else_ tried also?"

Instantly her colour fled again, and she stared at him wide-eyed, fearful. 

"Someone else?" she whispered. 

"Yes--someone else. A man ... Wearing a sort of cowl----"

"Oh?" she cried and threw out her hands in entreaty. "Do not ask me of_him_! I dare not answer--I dare not!"

"You have answered, " said Stuart, in a voice unlike his own; for ahorrified amazement was creeping upon him and supplanting thecontemptuous anger which the discovery of this beautiful girl engagedin pilfering his poor belongings had at first aroused. 

The mystery of her operations was explained--explained by a deeperand a darker mystery. The horror of the night had been no dream butan almost incredible reality. He now saw before him an agent of theman in the cowl; he perceived that he was in some way entangled in anaffair vastly more complex and sinister than a case of petty larceny. 

"Has the golden scorpion anything to do with the matter?" he demandedabruptly. 

And in the eyes of his beautiful captive he read the answer. Sheflinched again as she had done when he had taunted her with being athief; but he pressed his advantage remorselessly. 

"So you were concerned in the death of Sir Frank Narcombe!" he said. 

"I was not!" she cried at him fiercely, and her widely opened eyeswere magnificent. "Sir Frank Narcombe is----"

She faltered--and ceased speaking, biting her lip which had becometremulous again. 

"Sir Frank Narcombe is?" prompted Stuart, feeling himself to standupon the brink of a revelation. 

"I know nothing of him--this Sir Frank Narcombe. "

Stuart laughed unmirthfully. 

"Am I, by any chance, in danger of sharing the fate of thatdistinguished surgeon?" he asked. 

His question produced an unforeseen effect. Mlle. Dorian suddenlyrested her jewelled hands upon his shoulders, and he found himselflooking hungrily into those wonderful Eastern eyes. 

"If I swear that I speak the truth, will you believe me?" shewhispered, and her fingers closed convulsively upon his shoulders. 

He was shaken. Her near presence was intoxicating. "Perhaps, " he saidunsteadily. 

"Listen, then. _Now_ you are in danger, yes. Before, you were not, butnow you must be very careful. Oh! indeed, indeed, I tell you true! Itell you for your own sake. Do with me what you please. I do not care. It does not matter. You ask me why I come here. I tell you that also. I come for what is in the long envelope--look, I cannot hide it. Itis on the fire!"

Stuart turned and glanced toward the grate. A faint wisp of brownsmoke was arising from a long white envelope which lay there. Had thefire been actually burning, it must long ago have been destroyed. More than ever mystified, for the significance of the envelope wasnot evident to him, he ran to the grate and plucked the smoulderingpaper from the embers. 

As he did so, the girl, with one quick glance in his direction, snatched her cloak, keys and bag and ran from the room. Stuart heardthe door close, and racing back to the table he placed the slightlycharred envelope there beside the fragment of gold and leapt to thedoor. 

"Damn!" he said. 

His escaped prisoner had turned the key on the outside. He was lockedin his own study!

Momentarily nonplussed, he stood looking at the closed door. The soundof a restarted motor from outside the house spurred him to action. Heswitched off the lamps, crossed the darkened room and drew back thecurtain, throwing open the French windows. Brilliant moonlight bathedthe little lawn with its bordering of high privet hedges. Stuart ranout as the sound of the receding car reached his ears. By the timethat he had reached the front of the house the street was vacant fromend to end. He walked up the steps to the front door, which heunfastened with his latch-key. As he entered the hall, Mrs. M'Gregorappeared from her room. 

"I did no' hear ye go out with Miss Dorian, " she said. 

"That's quite possible, Mrs. M'Gregor, but she has gone, you see. "

"Now tell me, Mr. Keppel, did ye or did ye no' hear the wail o' thepibroch the night?

"No--I am afraid I cannot say that I did, Mrs. M'Gregor, " repliedStuart patiently. "I feel sure you must be very tired and you canjustifiably turn in now. I am expecting no other visitor. Good-night. "

Palpably dissatisfied and ill at ease, Mrs. M'Gregor turned away. 

"Good-night, Mr. Keppel, " she said. 

Stuart, no longer able to control his impatience, hurried to the studydoor, unlocked it and entered. Turning on the light, he crossed andhastily drew the curtains over the window recess, but withouttroubling to close the window which he had opened. Then he returnedto the writing-table and took up the sealed envelope whose presencein his bureau was clearly responsible for the singular visitation ofthe cowled man and for the coming of the lovely Mlle. Dorian. 

The "pibroch of the M'Gregors": He remembered something--somethingwhich, unaccountably, he hitherto had failed to recall: that fearfulwailing in the night--which had heralded the coming of the cowledman!--or had it been a _signal_ of some kind?

He stared at the envelope blankly, then laid it down and stood lookingfor some time at the golden scorpion's tail. Finally, his handsresting upon the table, he found that almost unconsciously he hadbeen listening--listening to the dim night sounds of London and tothe vague stirrings within the house. 

"_Now_, you are in danger. Before, you were not.... "

Could he believe her? If in naught else, in this at least surely shehad been sincere? Stuart started--then laughed grimly. 

A clock on the mantel-piece had chimed the half-hour. 

CHAPTER VI

THE ASSISTANT COMMISSIONER

Detective-Inspector Dunbar arrived at New Scotland Yard in a veritablefever of excitement. Jumping out of the cab he ran into the buildingand without troubling the man in charge of the lift went straight onupstairs to his room. He found it to be in darkness and switched onthe green-shaded lamp which was suspended above the table. Its lightrevealed a bare apartment having distempered walls severely decoratedby an etching of a former and unbeautiful Commissioner. The blindswere drawn. A plain, heavy deal table (bearing a blotting-pad, apewter ink-pot, several pens and a telephone), together with threeuncomfortable chairs, alone broke the expanse of highly polishedfloor. Dunbar glanced at the table and then stood undecided in themiddle of the bare room, tapping his small, widely separated teethwith a pencil which he had absently drawn from his waistcoat pocket. He rang the bell. 

A constable came in almost immediately and stood waiting just insidethe door. 

"When did Sergeant Sowerby leave?" asked Dunbar. 

"About three hours ago, sir. "

"What!" cried Dunbar. "Three hours ago! But I have been here myselfwithin that time--in the Commissioner's office. "

"Sergeant Sowerby left before then. I saw him go. "

"But, my good fellow, he has been back again. He spoke to me on thetelephone less than a quarter of an hour ago. "

"Not from here, sir. "

"But I say it _was_ from here!" shouted Dunbar fiercely; "and I toldhim to wait for me. "

"Very good, sir. Shall I make inquiries?"

"Yes. Wait a minute. Is the Commissioner here?"

"Yes, sir, I believe so. At least I have not seen him go. "

"Find Sergeant Sowerby and tell him to wait here for me, " snappedDunbar. 

He walked out into the bare corridor and along to the room of theAssistant Commissioner. Knocking upon the door, he opened itimmediately, and entered an apartment which afforded a strikingcontrast to his own. For whereas the room of Inspector Dunbar waspractically unfurnished, that of his superior was so filled withtables, cupboards, desks, bureaux, files, telephones, bookshelvesand stacks of documents that one only discovered the AssistantCommissioner sunk deep in a padded armchair and a cloud of tobaccosmoke by dint of close scrutiny. The Assistant Commissioner was small, sallow and satanic. His black moustache was very black and his eyeswere of so dark a brown as to appear black also. When he smiled herevealed a row of very large white teeth, and his smile was correctlyMephistophelean. He smoked a hundred and twenty Egyptian cigarettesper diem, and the first and second fingers of either hand werecoffee-coloured. 

"Good-evening, Inspector, " he said courteously. "You come at anopportune moment. " He lighted a fresh cigarette. "I was detained hereunusually late to-night or this news would not have reached us tillthe morning. " He laid his finger upon a yellow form. "There is anunpleasant development in 'The Scorpion' case. "

"So I gather, sir. That is what brought me back to the Yard. "

The Assistant Commissioner glanced up sharply. 

"What brought you back to the Yard?" he asked. 

"The news about Max. "

The assistant Commissioner leaned back in his chair. "Might I ask, Inspector, " he said, "what news you have learned and how you havelearned it?"

Dunbar stared uncomprehendingly. 

"Sowerby 'phoned me about half an hour ago, sir. Did he do so withoutyour instructions?"

"Most decidedly. What was his message?"

"He told me, " replied Dunbar, in ever-growing amazement, "that thebody brought in by the River Police last night had been identifiedas that of Gaston Max. "

The Assistant Commissioner handed a pencilled slip to Dunbar. It readas follows:--

"Gaston Max in London. Scorpion, Narcombe. No report since 30th ult. Fear trouble. Identity-disk G. M. 49685. "

"But, sir, " said Dunbar--"this is exactly what Sowerby told me!"

"Quite so. That is the really extraordinary feature of the affair. Because, you see, Inspector, I only finished decoding this messageat the very moment that you knocked at my door!"

"But----"

"There is no room for a 'but, ' Inspector. This confidential messagefrom Paris reached me ten minutes ago. You know as well as I know thatthere is no possibility of leakage. No one has entered my room in theinterval, yet you tell me that Sergeant Sowerby communicated thisinformation to you, by telephone, half an hour ago. "

Dunbar was tapping his teeth with the pencil. His amazement was toogreat for words. 

"Had the message been a false one, " continued the Commissioner, "thematter would have been resolved into a meaningless hoax, but themessage having been what it was, we find ourselves face to face withno ordinary problem. Remember, Inspector, that voices on the telephoneare deceptive. Sergeant Sowerby has marked vocal mannerisms----"

"Which would be fairly easy to imitate? Yes, sir--that's so. "

"But it brings us no nearer to the real problems; viz. , first, thesender of the message; and, second, his purpose. "

There was a dull purring sound and the Assistant Commissioner raisedthe telephone. 

"Yes. Who is it that wishes to speak to him? Dr. Keppel Stuart?Connect with my office. "

He turned again to Dunbar. 

"Dr. Stuart has a matter of the utmost urgency to communicate, Inspector. It was at the house of Dr. Stuart, I take it, that youreceived the unexplained message?"

"It was--yes. "

"Did you submit to Dr. Stuart the broken gold ornament?"

"Yes. It's a scorpion's tail. "

"Ah!" The Assistant Commissioner smiled satanically and lighted afresh cigarette. "And is Dr. Stuart agreeable to placing his unusualknowledge at our disposal for the purposes of this case?"

"He is, sir. "

The purring sound was repeated. 

"You are through to Dr. Stuart, " said the Assistant Commissioner. 

"Hullo" cried Dunbar, taking up the receiver--"is that Dr. Stuart?Dunbar speaking. "

He stood silent for a while, listening to the voice over the wires. Then: "You want me to come around now, doctor? Very well. I'll bewith you in less than half an hour. "

He put down the instrument. 

"Something extraordinary seems to have taken place at Dr. Stuart'shouse a few minutes after I left, sir, " he said. "I'm going backthere, now, for particulars. It sounds as though the 'phone messagemight have been intended to get me away. " He stared down at thepencilled slip which the Assistant Commissioner had handed him, butstared vacantly, and: "Do you mind if I call someone up, sir?" heasked. "It should be done at once. "

"Call by all means, Inspector. "

Dunbar again took up the telephone. 

"Battersea 0996, " he said, and stood waiting. Then:

"Is that Battersea 0996?" he asked. "Is Dr. Stuart there? He isspeaking? Oh, this is Inspector Dunbar. You called me up here at theYard a few moments ago, did you not? Correct, doctor; that's all Iwanted to know. I am coming now. "

"Good, " said the Assistant Commissioner, nodding his approval. "Youwill have to check 'phone messages in that way until you have run yourmimic to earth, Inspector. I don't believe for a moment that it wasSergeant Sowerby who rang you up at Dr. Stuart's. "

"Neither do I, " said Dunbar grimly. "But I begin to have a glimmer ofa notion who it was. I'll be saying good-night, sir. Dr. Stuart seemsto have something very important to tell me. "

As a mere matter of form he waited for the report of the constable whohad gone in quest of Sowerby, but it merely confirmed the fact thatSowerby had left Scotland Yard over three hours earlier. Dunbarsummoned a taxicab and proceeded to the house of Dr. Stuart. 

CHAPTER VII

CONTENTS OF THE SEALED ENVELOPE

Stuart personally admitted Dunbar, and once more the Inspector foundhimself in the armchair in the study. The fire was almost out and theroom seemed to be chilly. Stuart was labouring under the influence ofsuppressed excitement and was pacing restlessly up and down the floor. 

"Inspector, " he began, "I find it difficult to tell you the facts whichhave recently come to my knowledge bearing upon this most mysterious'Scorpion' case. I clearly perceive, now, that without being aware ofthe fact I have nevertheless been concerned in the case for at leasta week. "

Dunbar stared surprisedly, but offered no comment. 

"A fortnight ago, " Stuart continued, "I found myself in theneighbourhood of the West India Docks. I had been spending the eveningwith a very old friend, chief officer of a liner in dock. I hadintended to leave the ship at about ten o'clock and to walk to therailway station, but, as it fell out, the party did not break up untilafter midnight. Declining the offer of a berth on board, I came ashoredetermined to make my way home by tram and afoot. I should probablyhave done so and have been spared--much; but rain began to fallsuddenly and I found myself, foolishly unprovided with a top-coat, inthose grey East End streets without hope of getting a lift. 

"It was just as I was crossing Limehouse Causeway that I observed, tomy astonishment, the head-lamps of a cab or car shining out from a darkand forbidding thoroughfare which led down to the river. The sight wasso utterly unexpected that I paused, looking through the rainy mist inthe direction of the stationary vehicle. I was still unable to makeout if it were a cab or a car, and accordingly I walked along to whereit stood and found that it was a taxicab and apparently for hire. 

"'Are you disengaged?' I said to the man. "'Well, sir, I suppose I am, ' was his curious reply. 'Where do youwant to go?'

"I gave him this address and he drove me home. On arriving, sograteful did I feel that I took pity upon the man, for it had settleddown into a brute of a night, and asked him to come in and take aglass of grog. He was only too glad to do so. He turned out to bequite an intelligent sort of fellow, and we chatted together for tenminutes or so. 

"I had forgotten all about him when, I believe on the following night, he reappeared in the character of a patient. He had a badly damagedskull, and I gathered that he had had an accident with his cab and hadbeen pitched out into the road. 

"When I had fixed him up, he asked me to do him a small favour. Frominside his tunic he pulled out a long stiff envelope, bearing noaddress but the number 30 in big red letters. It was secured at bothends with black wax bearing the imprint of a curious and complicatedseal. 

"'A gentleman left this behind in the cab today, sir, ' said theman--'perhaps the one who was with me when I had the spill, and I'vegot no means of tracing him; but he may be able to trace _me_ if hehappened to notice my number, or he may advertise. It evidentlycontains something valuable. '

"'Then why not take it to Scotland Yard?' I asked. 'Isn't that theproper course?'

"'It is, ' he admitted; 'but here's the point: if the owner reclaims itfrom Scotland Yard he's less likely to dub up handsome than if he getsit direct from me!'

"I laughed at that, for the soundness of the argument was beyonddispute. 'But what on earth do you want to leave it with _me_ for?'I asked. "

"'Self-protection, ' was the reply. 'They can't say I meant to pinchit! Whereas, directly there's any inquiry I can come and collect itand get the reward; and your word will back me up if any questions areasked; that's if you don't mind, sir. '

"I told him I didn't mind in the least, and accordingly I sealed theenvelope in a yet larger one which I addressed to the Lost PropertyOffice and put into a private drawer of my bureau. 'You will have noobjection, ' I said, 'to this being posted if it isn't reclaimed withina reasonable time?'

"He said that would be all right and departed--since which moment Ihave not set eyes upon him. I now come to the sequel, or what I havejust recognized to be the sequel. "

Stuart's agitation grew more marked and it was only by dint of apalpable effort that he forced himself to resume. 

"On the evening of the following day a lady called professionally. She was young, pretty, and dressed with extraordinary elegance. Myhousekeeper admitted her, as I was out at the time but momentarilyexpected. She awaited my return here, in this room. She came againtwo days later. The name she gave was an odd one: Mademoiselle Dorian. There is her card, "--Stuart opened a drawer and laid a visiting-cardbefore Dunbar--"no initials and no address. She travelled in a largeand handsome car. That is to say, according to my housekeeper'saccount it is a large and handsome car. I personally, have had but animperfect glimpse of it. It does not await her in front of the house, for some reason, but just around the corner in the side turning. Beyond wondering why Mademoiselle Dorian had selected me as hermedical advisor I had detected nothing suspicious in her behaviour upto the time of which I am about to speak. 

"Last night there was a singular development, and to-night matterscame to a head. "

Thereupon Stuart related as briefly as possible the mysterious episodeof the cowled man, and finally gave an account of the last visit ofMlle. Dorian. Inspector Dunbar did not interrupt him, but listenedattentively to the singular story. 

"And there, " concluded Stuart, "on the blotting-pad, lies the sealedenvelope!"

Dunbar took it up eagerly. A small hole had been burned in one end ofthe envelope and much of the surrounding paper was charred. The waxwith which Stuart had sealed it had lain uppermost, and although ithad been partly melted, the mark of his signet-ring was stilldiscernible upon it. Dunbar stood staring at it. 

"In the circumstances, Inspector, I think you would be justified inopening both envelopes, " said Stuart. 

"I am inclined to agree. But let me just be clear on one or twopoints. " He took out the bulging note-book and also a fountain-penwith which he prepared to make entries. "About this cabman, now. Youdidn't by any chance note the number of his cab?"

"I did not. "

"What build of man was he?"

"Over medium height and muscular. Somewhat inclined to flesh and pasthis youth, but active all the same. "

"Dark or fair?"

"Dark and streaked with grey. I noted this particularly in dressinghis skull. He wore his hair cropped close to the scalp. He had a shortbeard and moustache and heavily marked eyebrows. He seemed to be veryshort-sighted and kept his eyes so screwed up that it was impossibleto detect their colour, by night at any rate. "

"What sort of wound had he on his skull?"

"A short ugly gash. He had caught his head on the footboard in falling. I may add that on the occasion of his professional visit his breathsmelled strongly of spirits, and I rather suspected that his accidentmight have been traceable to his condition. "

"But he wasn't actually drunk?"

"By no means. He was perfectly sober, but he had recently beendrinking--possibly because his fall had shaken him, of course. "

"His hands?"

"Small and very muscular. Quite steady. Also very dirty. "

"What part of the country should you say he hailed from?"

"London. He had a marked cockney accent. "

"What make of cab was it?"

"I couldn't say. "

"An old cab?"

"Yes. The fittings were dilapidated, I remember, and the cab had avery musty smell. "

"Ah, " said Dunbar, making several notes. "And now--the lady: aboutwhat would be her age?"

"Difficult to say, Inspector. She had Eastern blood and may have beenmuch younger than she appeared to be. Judged from a European standpointand from her appearance and manner of dress, she might be abouttwenty-three or twenty-four. "

"Complexion?"

"Wonderful. Fresh as a flower. "

"Eyes?"

"Dark. They looked black at night. "

"Hair?"

"Brown and 'fuzzy' with copper tints. "

"Tall?"

"No; slight but beautifully shaped. "

"Now--from her accent what should you judge her nationality to be?"

Stuart paced up and down the room, his head lowered in reflection, then:

"She pronounced both English and French words with an intonation whichsuggested familiarity with Arabic. "

"Arabic? That still leaves a fairly wide field. "

"It does, Inspector, but I had no means of learning more. She hadcertainly lived for a long time somewhere in the Near East. "

"Her jewellery?"

"Some of it was European and some of it Oriental, but notcharacteristic of any particular country of the Orient. "

"Did she use perfume?"

"Yes, but it was scarcely discernible. Jasmine--probably the Easternpreparation. "

"Her ailment was imaginary?"

"I fear so. "

"H'm--and now you say that Mrs. M'Gregor saw the car?"

"Yes, but she has retired. "

"Her evidence will do to-morrow. We come to the man in the hood. Canyou give me any kind of a description of him?"

"He appeared to be tall, but a shadow is deceptive, and hisextraordinary costume would produce that effect, too. I can tell youabsolutely nothing further about him. Remember, I thought I wasdreaming. I could not credit my senses. "

Inspector Dunbar glanced over the notes which he had made, thenreturning the note-book and pen to his pocket, he took up the longsmoke-discoloured envelope and with a paper-knife which lay upon thetable slit one end open. Inserting two fingers, he drew out the secondenvelope which the first enclosed. It was an ordinary commercialenvelope only notable by reason of the number, 30, appearing in largered figures upon it and because it was sealed with black wax bearinga weird-looking device:

Stuart bent over him intently as he slit this envelope in turn. Again, he inserted two fingers--and brought forth the sole contents... Aplain piece of cardboard, roughly rectangular and obviously cut inhaste from the lid of a common cardboard box!

CHAPTER VIII

THE ASSISTANT COMMISSIONER'S THEORY

On the following morning Inspector Dunbar, having questioned Mrs. M'Gregor respecting the car in which Mlle. Dorian had visited thehouse and having elicited no other evidence than that it was "a fineluxurious concern, " the Inspector and Dr. Stuart prepared to set outupon gruesome business. Mrs. M'Gregor was very favourably impressedwith the Inspector. "A grand, pairsonable body, " she confided toStuart. "He'd look bonny in the kilt. "

To an East-End mortuary the cab bore them, and they were led by aconstable in attendance to a stone-paved, ill-lighted apartment inwhich a swathed form lay upon a long deal table. The spectaclepresented, when the covering was removed, was one to have shockedless hardened nerves than those of Stuart and Dunbar; but the dutiesof a police officer, like those of a medical man, not infrequentlynecessitate such inspections. The two bent over the tragic flotsam ofthe Thames unmoved and critical. 

"H'm, " said Stuart--"he's about the build, certainly. Hair iron-greyand close cropped and he seems to have worn a beard. Now, let us see. "

He bent, making a close inspection of the skull; then turned andshook his head. 

"No, Inspector, " he said definitely. "This is not the cabman. There isno wound corresponding to the one which I dressed. "

"Right, " answered Dunbar, covering up the ghastly face. "That'ssettled. "

"You were wrong, Inspector. It was not Gaston Max who left theenvelope with me. "

"No, " mused Dunbar, "so it seems. "

"Your theory that Max, jealously working alone, had left particularsof his inquiries, and clues, in my hands, knowing that they wouldreach Scotland Yard in the event of his death, surely collapsed whenthe envelope proved to contain nothing but a bit of cardboard?"

"Yes--I suppose it did. But it sounded so much like Max's round-aboutmethods. Anyway I wanted to make sure that the dead man from HanoverHole and your mysterious cabman were not one and the same. "

Stuart entertained a lively suspicion that Inspector Dunbar was keepingsomething up his sleeve, but with this very proper reticence he had noquarrel, and followed by the constable, who relocked the mortuarybehind them, they came out into the yard where the cab waited whichwas to take them to Scotland Yard. Dunbar, standing with one foot uponthe step of the cab, turned to the constable. 

"Has anyone else viewed the body?" he asked. 

"No sir. "

"No one is to be allowed to do so--you understand?--_no one_, unlesshe has written permission from the Commissioner. "

"Very good, sir. "

Half an hour later they arrived at New Scotland Yard and went up toDunbar's room. A thick-set, florid man of genial appearance, having adark moustache, a breezy manner and a head of hair resembling a veryhard-worked blacking-brush, awaited them. This was Detective-SargeantSowerby with whom Stuart was already acquainted. 

"Good-morning, Sergeant Sowerby, " he said. 

"Good-morning, sir. I hear that someone was pulling your leg lastnight. "

"What do you mean exactly, Sowerby?" inquired Dunbar, fixing hisfierce eyes upon his subordinate. 

Sergeant Sowerby exhibited confusion. 

"I mean nothing offensive, Inspector. I was referring to thejoker who gave so good an imitation of my voice that even_you_ were deceived. "

"Ah, " replied Dunbar--"I see. Yes--he did it well. He spoke just likeyou. I could hardly make out a word he said. "

With this Caledonian shaft and a side-glance at Stuart, InspectorDunbar sat down at the table. 

"Here's Dr. Stuart's description of the missing cabman, " he continued, taking out his note-book. "Dr. Stuart has viewed the body and it isnot the man. You had better take a proper copy of this. "

"Then the cabman wasn't Max?" cried Sowerby eagerly. "I thought not. "

"I believe you told me so before, " said Dunbar sourly. "I also seem torecall that you thought a scorpion's tail was a Prickly Pear. However--here, on the page numbered twenty-six, is a description ofthe woman known as Mlle. Dorian. It should be a fairly easy matter totrace the car through the usual channels, and she ought to be easy tofind, too. "

He glanced at his watch. Stuart was standing by the lofty windowlooking out across the Embankment. 

"Ten o'clock, " said Dunbar. "The Commissioner will be expecting us. "

"I am ready, " responded Stuart. 

Leaving Sergeant Sowerby seated at the table studying the note-book, Stuart and Dunbar proceeded to the smoke-laden room of the AssistantCommissioner. The great man, suavely satanic, greeted Stuart withthat polished courtesy for which he was notable. 

"You have been of inestimable assistance to us in the past, Dr. Stuart, " he said, "and I feel happy to know that we are to enjoy theaid of your special knowledge in the present case. Will you smoke oneof my cigarettes? They are some which a friend is kind enough tosupply to me direct from Cairo, and are really quite good. "

"Thanks, " replied Stuart. "May I ask in what direction my servicesare likely to prove available?"

The Commissioner lighted a fresh cigarette. Then from a heap ofcorrespondence he selected a long report typed upon blue foolscap. 

"I have here, " he said, "confirmation of the telegraphic reportreceived last night. The name of M. Gaston Max will no doubt befamiliar to you?"

Stuart nodded. 

"Well, " continued the Commissioner, "it appears that he has beenengaged in England for the past month endeavouring to trace theconnection which he claims to exist between the sudden deaths ofvarious notable people, recently--a list is appended--and some personor organisation represented by, or associated with, a scorpion. Hispersonal theory not being available--poor fellow, you have heard ofhis tragic death--I have this morning consulted such particulars asI could obtain respecting these cases. If they were really cases ofassassination, some obscure poison was the only mode of death thatcould possibly have been employed. Do you follow me?"

"Perfectly. "

"Now, the death of Gaston Max under circumstances not yet explained, would seem to indicate that his theory was a sound one. In otherwords, I am disposed to believe that he himself represents the mostrecent outrage of what we will call 'The Scorpion. ' Even at the timethat the body of the man found by the River Police had not beenidentified, the presence upon his person of a fragment of goldstrongly resembling the tail of a scorpion prompted me to instructInspector Dunbar to consult you. I had determined upon a certaincourse. The identification of the dead man with Gaston Max merelystrengthens my determination and enhances the likelihood of my ideabeing a sound one. "

He flicked the ash from his cigarette and resumed:

"Without mentioning names, the experts consulted in the other caseswhich--according to the late Gaston Max--were victims of 'TheScorpion, ' do not seem to have justified their titles. I am arrangingthat you shall be present at the autopsy upon the body of Gaston Max. And now, permit me to ask you a question: are you acquainted with anypoison which would produce the symptoms noted in the case of Sir FrankNarcombe, for instance?"

Stuart shook his head slowly. 

"All that I know of the case, " he said, "is that he was taken suddenlyill in the foyer of a West-End theatre, immediately removed to hishouse in Half Moon Street, and died shortly afterward. Can you give mecopies of the specialists' reports and other particulars? I may thenbe able to form an opinion. "

"I will get them for you, " replied the Commissioner, the exact natureof whose theory was by no means evident to Stuart. He opened a drawer. "I have here, " he continued, "the piece of cardboard and the envelopeleft with you by the missing cab-man. Do you think there is anypossibility of invisible writing?"

"None, " said Stuart confidently. "I have tested in three or fourplaces as you will see by the spots, but my experiments will in no wayinterfere with those which no doubt your own people will want to make. I have also submitted both surfaces to a microscopic examination. I amprepared to state definitely that there is no writing upon thecardboard, and except for the number, 30, none upon the envelope. "

"It is only reasonable to suppose, " continued the Commissioner, "thatthe telephone message which led Inspector Dunbar to leave your houselast night was originated by that unseen intelligence against which wefind ourselves pitted. In the first place, no one in London, myselfand, presumably, 'The Scorpion' excepted, knew at that time that M. Gaston Max was in England or that M. Gaston Max was dead. I say, presumably 'The Scorpion' because it is fair to assume that the personwhom Max pursued was responsible for his death. 

"Of course"--the Commissioner reached for the box of cigarettes--"wereit not for the telephone message, we should be unjustified in assumingthat Mlle. Dorian and this"--he laid his finger upon the piece ofcardboard--"had any connection with the case of M. Max. But themessage was so obviously designed to facilitate the purloining of thesealed envelope and so obviously emanated from one already aware ofthe murder of M. Max, that the sender is identified at once with--'The Scorpion. '"

The Assistant Commissioner complacently lighted a fresh cigarette. 

"Finally, " he said, "the mode of death in the case of M. Max may nothave been the same as in the other cases. Therefore, Dr. Stuart"--hepaused impressively--"if you fail to detect anything suspicious at thepost mortem examination I propose to apply to the Home Secretary forpower to exhume the body of the late Sir Frank Narcombe!"

Deep in reflection, Stuart walked alone along the Embankment. The fullfacts contained in the report from Paris the Commissioner had notdivulged, but Stuart concluded that this sudden activity was directlydue, not to the death of M. Max, but to the fact that he (Max) hadleft behind him some more or less tangible clue. Stuart fullyrecognized that the Commissioner had accorded him an opportunity toestablish his reputation--or to wreck it. 

Yet, upon closer consideration, it became apparent that it was toFate and not to the Commissioner that he was indebted. Strictlyspeaking, his association with the matter dated from the night ofhis meeting with the mysterious cabman in West India Dock road. Or hadthe curtain first been lifted upon this occult drama that evening, five years ago, as the setting sun reddened the waters of the ImperialCanal and a veiled figure passed him on the Wu-Men Bridge?

"Shut your eyes tightly, master--the Scorpion is coming!"

He seemed to hear the boy's words now, as he passed along theEmbankment; he seemed to see again the tall figure. And suddenly hestopped, stood still and stared with unseeing eyes across the muddywaters of the Thames. He was thinking of the cowled man who had stoodbehind the curtains in his study--of that figure so wildly bizarrethat even now he could scarcely believe that he had ever actually seenit. He walked on. 

Automatically his reflections led him to Mlle. Dorian, and heremembered that even as he paced along there beside the river thewonderful mechanism of New Scotland Yard was in motion, its manytentacles seeking--seeking tirelessly--for the girl, whose dark eyeshaunted his sleeping and waking hours. _He_ was responsible, and ifshe were arrested _he_ would be called upon to identify her. Hecondemned himself bitterly. 

After all, what crime had she committed? She had tried to purloin aletter--which did not belong to Stuart in the first place. And she hadfailed. Now--the police were looking for her. His reflections took anew form. 

What of Gaston Max, foremost criminologist in Europe, who now lay deadand mutilated in an East-End mortuary? The telephone message which hadsummoned Dunbar away had been too opportune to be regarded as a merecoincidence. Mlle. Dorian was, therefore, an accomplice of a murderer. 

Stuart sighed. He would have given much--more than he was prepared toadmit to himself--to have known her to be guiltless. 

The identity of the missing cabman now engaged his mind. It was quitepossible, of course, that the man had actually found the envelope inhis cab a was in no other way concerned in the matter. But how hadMlle. Dorian, or the person instructing her, traced the envelope tohis study? And why, if they could establish a claim to it, had theypreferred to attempt to steal it? Finally, why all this disturbanceabout a blank piece of cardboard?

A mental picture of the envelope arose before him, the number, 30, written upon it and the two black seals securing the lapels. He pausedagain in his walk. His reflections had led him to a second definitepoint and he fumbled in his waistcoat pocket for a time, seeking acertain brass coin about the size of a halfpenny, having a square holein the middle and peculiar characters engraved around the square, oneon each of the four sides. 

He failed to find the coin in his pocket, however, but he walkedbriskly up a side street until he came to the entrance to a tubestation. Entering a public telephone call-box, he asked for thenumber, City 400. Being put through and having deposited the necessaryfee in the box:

"Is that the Commissioner's Office, New Scotland Yard?" he asked. "Yes! My name is Dr. Keppel Stuart. If Inspector Dunbar is there, would you kindly allow me to speak to him. "

There was a short interval, then:

"Hullo!" came--"is that Dr. Stuart?"

"Yes. That you, Inspector? I have just remembered something which Ishould have observed in the first place if I had been really wide-awake. The envelope--you know the one I mean?--the one bearing the number, 30, has been sealed with a Chinese coin, known as _cash_. I have justrecognized the fact and thought it wise to let you know at once. "

"Are you sure?" asked Dunbar. 

"Certain. If you care to call at my place later to-day I can show yousome _cash_. Bring the envelope with you and you will see that thecoins correspond to the impression in the wax. The inscriptions varyin different provinces, but the form of all _cash_ is the same. "

"Very good. Thanks for letting me know at once. It seems to establisha link with China, don't you think?"

"It does, but it merely adds to the mystery. "

Coming out of the call-box, Stuart proceeded home, but made one ortwo professional visits before he actually returned to the house. Henow remembered having left his particular _cash_ piece (which heusually carried) in his dispensary, which satisfactorily accountedfor his failure to find the coin in his waistcoat pocket. He hadbroken the cork of a flask, and in the absence of another of correctsize had manufactured a temporary stopper with a small cork to the topof which he had fixed the Chinese coin with a drawing-pin. His purposeserved he had left the extemporised stopper lying somewhere in thedispensary. 

Stuart's dispensary was merely a curtained recess at one end of thewaiting-room and shortly after entering the house he had occasion tovisit it. Lying upon a shelf among flasks and bottles was the Chinesecoin with the cork still attached. He took it up in order to study theinscription. Then:

"Have I cultivated somnambulism!" he muttered. 

Fragments of black sealing-wax adhered to the coin!

Incredulous and half fearful he peered at it closely. He rememberedthat the impression upon the wax sealing the mysterious envelope hadhad a circular depression in the centre. It had been made by the headof the drawing-pin!

He found himself staring at the shelf immediately above that uponwhich the coin had lain. A stick of black sealing-wax used for sealingmedicine was thrust in beside a bundle of long envelopes in which hewas accustomed to post his Infirmary reports!

One hand raised to his head, Stuart stood endeavouring to marshal hisideas into some sane order. Then, knowing what he should find, heraised the green baize curtain hanging from the lower shelf, whichconcealed a sort of cupboard containing miscellaneous stores and nota little rubbish, including a number of empty cardboard boxes. 

A rectangular strip had been roughly cut from the lid of the topmostbox!

The mysterious envelope and its contents, the wax and the seal--allhad come from his own dispensary!

CHAPTER IX

THE CHINESE COIN

Deep in reflection, Stuart walked alone along the Embankment. The fullfacts contained in the report form Paris the Commissioner had notdivulged, but Stuart concluded that this sudden activity was directlydue, not to the death of M. Max, but to the fact that he (Max) hadleft behind him some more or less tangible clue. Stuart fullyrecognized that the Commissioner had accorded him an opportunity toestablish his reputation--or to wreck it. 

Yet, upon closer consideration, it became apparent that it was to Fateand not to the Commissioner that he was indebted. Strictly speaking, his association with the matter dated from the night of his meetingwith the mysterious cabman in West India Dock Road. Or had thecurtain first been lifted upon this occult drama that evening, fiveyears ago, as the setting sun reddened the waters of the ImperialCanal and a veiled figure passed him on the Wu-Men Bridge?

"Shut your eyes tightly, master--the Scorpion is coming!"

He seemed to hear the boy's words now, as he passed along theEmbankment; he seemed to see again the tall figure. And suddenly hestopped, stood still and stared with unseeing eyes across the muddywaters of the Thames. He was thinking of the cowled man who had stoodbehind the curtains in his study--of that figure so wildly bizarrethat even now he could scarcely believe that he had ever actually seenit. He walked on. 

Automatically his reflections led him to Mlle. Dorian, and heremembered that even as he paced along there beside the river thewonderful mechanism of New Scotland Yard was in motion, its manytentacles seeking--seeking tirelessly--for the girl, whose dark eyeshaunted his sleeping and waking hours. _He_ was responsible, and ifshe were arrested _he_ would be called upon to identify her. Hecondemned himself bitterly. 

After all, what crime had she committed? She had tried to purloin aletter--which did not belong to Stuart in the first place. And she hadfailed. Now--the police were looking for her. His reflections took anew form. 

What of Gaston Max, foremost criminologist in Europe, who now lay deadand mutilated in an East-End mortuary? The telephone message which hadsummoned Dunbar away had been too opportune to be regarded as a merecoincidence. Mlle. Dorian was, therefore, an accomplice of a murderer. 

Stuart sighed. He would have given much--more than he was prepared toadmit to himself--to have known her to be guiltless. 

The identity of the missing cabman now engaged his mind. It was quitepossible, of course, that the man had actually found the envelope inhis cab and was in no other way concerned in the matter. But how hadMlle. Dorian, or the person instructing her, traced the envelope tohis study? And why, if they could establish a claim to it, had theypreferred to attempt to steal it? Finally, why all this disturbanceabout a blank pieced of cardboard?

A mental picture of the envelope arose before him, the number, 30, written upon it and the two black seals securing the lapels. He pausedagain in his walk. His reflections had led him to a second definitepoint and he fumbled in his waistcoat pocket for a time, seeking acertain brass coin about the size of a halfpenny, having a squarehole in the middle and peculiar characters engraved around thesquare, one on each of the four sides. 

He failed to find the coin in his pocket, however, but he walkedbriskly up a side street until he came to the entrance to a tubestation. Entering a public telephone call-box, he asked for thenumber, City 400. Being put through and having deposited the necessaryfee in the box:

"Is that the Commissioner's Office, New Scotland Yard?" he asked. "Yes! My name is Dr. Keppel Stuart. If Inspector Dunbar is there, would you kindly allow me to speak to him. "

There was a short interval, then:

"Hullo!" came--"is that Dr. Stuart?"

"Yes. That you, Inspector? I have just remembered something which Ishould have observed in the first place if I had been really wide-awake. The envelope--you know the one I mean?--the one bearing the number, 30, has been sealed with a Chinese coin, known as _cash. _ I have justrecognized the fact and thought it wise to let you know at once. "

"Are you sure?" asked Dunbar. 

"Certain. If you care to call at my place later to-day I can show yousome _cash. _ Bring the envelope with you and you will see that thecoins correspond to the impression in the wax. The inscriptions varyin different provinces, but the form of all _cash_ is the same. "

"Very good. Thanks for letting me know at once. It seems to establisha link with China, don't you think?"

"It does, but it merely adds to the mystery. "

Coming out of the call-box, Stuart proceeded home, but made one or twoprofessional visits before he actually returned to the house. He nowremembered having left this particular _cash_ piece (which he usuallycarried) in his dispensary, which satisfactorily accounted fro hisfailure to find the coin in his waistcoat pocket. He had broken thecork of a flask, and in the absence of another of correct size hadmanufactured a temporary stopper with a small cork to the top of whichhe had fixed the Chinese coin with a drawing-pin. His purpose servedhe had left the extemporized stopper somewhere in the dispensary. 

Stuart's dispensary was merely a curtained recess at one end of thewaiting-room and shortly after entering the house he had occasion tovisit it. Lying upon a shelf among flasks and bottles was the Chinesecoin with the cork still attached. He took it up in order to studythe inscription. Then:

"Have I cultivated somnambulism!" he muttered. 

Fragments of black sealing-wax adhered to the coin!

Incredulous and half fearful he peered at it closely. He rememberedthat the impression upon the wax sealing the mysterious envelope hadhad a circular depression in the centre. It had been made by the headof the drawing-pin!

He found himself at the shelf immediately above that upon which thecoin had lain. A stick of black sealing wax used for sealing medicinewas thrust in beside a bundle of long envelopes in which he wasaccustomed to post his Infirmary reports!

One hand raised to his head, Stuart stood endeavouring to marshal hisideas into some sane order. Then, knowing what he should find, heraised the green baize curtain hanging from the lower shelf, whichconcealed a sort of cupboard containing miscellaneous stores and nota little rubbish, including a number of empty cardboard boxes. 

A rectangular strip had been roughly cut from the lid of the topmostbox!

The mysterious envelope and its contents, the wax and the seal--allhad come from his own dispensary!

CHAPTER X

"CLOSE YOUR SHUTTERS AT NIGHT"

Inspector Dunbar stood in the little dispensary tapping his teeth withthe end of a fountain-pen. 

"The last time he visited you, doctor--the time when he gave you theenvelope--did the cabman wait here in the waiting-room?"

"He did--yes. He came after my ordinary consulting hours and I was atsupper, I remember, as I am compelled to dine early. "

"He would be in here alone?"

"Yes. No one else was in the room. "

"Would he have had time to find the box, cut out the piece ofcardboard from the lid, put it in the envelope and seal it?"

"Ample time. But what could be his object? And why mark the envelope30?"

"It was in your consulting-room that he asked you to take charge ofthe envelope?"

"Yes. "

"Might I take a peep at the consulting room?"

"Certainly, Inspector. "

From the waiting-room they went up a short flight of stairs into thesmall apartment in which Stuart saw his patients. Dunbar looked slowlyabout him, standing in the middle of the room, then crossed and staredout of the window into the narrow lane below. 

"Where were you when he gave you the envelope?" he snapped suddenly. 

"At the table, " replied Stuart with surprise. 

"Was the table-lamp alight?"

"Yes. I always light it when seeing patients. "

"Did you take the letter into the study to seal it in the otherenvelope?"

"I did, and he came along and witnessed me do it. "

"Ah, " said Dunbar, and scribbled busily in his note-book. "We arebadly tied at Scotland Yard, doctor, and this case looks like beinganother for which somebody else will reap the credit. I am going tomake a request that will surprise you. "

He tore a leaf out of the book and folded it carefully. 

"I am going to ask you to seal up something and lock it away! But Idon't think you'll be troubled by cowled burglars or beautiful womenbecause of it. On this piece of paper I have written--_a"_--he tickedoff the points on his fingers: "what I believe to be the name of theman who cut out the cardboard and sealed it in an envelope; _b_: thename of the cabman; and, _c_: the name of the man who rang me up herelast night and gave me information which had only just reached theCommissioner. I'll ask you to lock it away until it's wanted, doctor. "

"Certainly, if you wish it, " replied Stuart. "Come into the study andyou shall see me do as you direct. I may add that the object to beserved is not apparent to me. "

Entering the study, he took an envelope, enclosed the piece of paper, sealed the lapel and locked the envelope in the same drawer of thebureau which once had contained that marked 30. 

"Mlle. Dorian has a duplicate key to this drawer. " he said. "Are youprepared to take the chance?"

"Quite, " replied Dunbar, smiling; "although my information is worthmore than that which she risked so much to steal. "

"It's most astounding. At every step the darkness increases. Whyshould _anyone_ have asked me to lock up a blank piece of cardboard?"

"Why, indeed, " murmured Dunbar. "Well, I may as well get back. I amexpecting a report from Sowerby. Look after yourself, sir. I'minclined to think your pretty patient was talking square when she toldyou there might be danger. "

Stuart met the glance of the tawny eyes. 

"What d'you mean, Inspector? Why should _I_ be in danger?"

"Because, " replied Inspector Dunbar, "if 'The Scorpion' is a poisoner, as the chief seems to think, there's really only one man in England hehas to fear, and that man is Dr. Keppel Stuart. "

When the Inspector had taken his departure Stuart stood for a longtime staring out of the study window at the little lawn with itsbordering of high neatly-trimmed privet above which at intervalsarose the mop crowns of dwarf acacias. A spell of warm weather seemedat last to have begun, and clouds of gnats floated over the grass, their minute wings glittering in the sunshine. Despite the nearness ofteeming streets, this was a backwater of London's stream. 

He sighed and returned to some work which the visit of the ScotlandYard man had interrupted. 

Later in the afternoon he had occasion to visit the institution towhich he had recently been appointed as medical officer, and incontemplation of the squalor through which his steps led him he soughtforgetfulness of the Scorpion problem--and of the dark eyes of Mlle. Dorian. He was not entirely successful, and returning by a differentroute he lost himself in memories which were sweetly mournful. 

A taxicab passed him, moving slowly very close to the pavement. Hescarcely noted it until it had proceeded some distance ahead of him. Then its slow progress so near to the pavement at last attracted hisattention, and he stared vacantly towards the closed vehicle. 

Mlle. Dorian was leaning out of the window and looking back at him!

Stuart's heart leapt high. For an instant he paused, then began towalk rapidly after the retreating vehicle. Perceiving that she hadattracted his attention, the girl extended a white-gloved hand fromthe window and dropped a note upon the edge of the pavement. Immediately she withdrew into the vehicle--which moved away ataccelerated speed, swung around the next corner and was gone. 

Stuart ran forward and picked up the note. Without pausing to read it, he pressed on to the corner. The cab was already two hundred yardsaway, and he recognized pursuit to be out of the question. The streetswere almost deserted at the moment, and no one apparently hadwitnessed the episode. He unfolded the sheet of plain note-paper, faintly perfumed with jasmine, and read the following, written in anuneven feminine hand:

"Close your shutters at night. Do not think too bad of me. "

CHAPTER XI

THE BLUE RAY

Dusk found Stuart in a singular frame of mind. He was torn betweenduty--or what he conceived to be his duty--to the community, and ... Something else. A messenger from New Scotland Yard had brought him abundle of documents relating to the case of Sir Frank Narcombe, anda smaller packet touching upon the sudden end of Henrik Ericksen, theNorwegian electrician, and the equally unexpected death of the GrandDuke Ivan. There were medical certificates, proceedings of coroners, reports of detectives, evidence of specialists and statements offriends, relatives and servants of the deceased. A proper examinationof all the documents represented many hours of close study. 

Stuart was flattered by the opinion held of his ability by theAssistant Commissioner, but dubious of his chance of detecting anyflaw in the evidence which had escaped the scrutiny of so many highlytrained observers. 

He paced the study restlessly. Although more than six hours hadelapsed, he had not communicated to Scotland Yard the fact of hishaving seen Mlle. Dorian that afternoon. A hundred times he had readthe message, although he knew it by heart, knew the form of everyletter, the odd crossing of the _t'_s and the splashy dotting ofthe _i_'s. 

If only he could have taken counsel with someone--with someone notbound to act upon such information--it would have relieved his mentalstress. His ideas were so chaotic that he felt himself to be incapableof approaching the task presented by the pile of papers lying upon histable. 

The night was pleasantly warm and the sky cloudless. Often enough hefound himself glancing toward the opened French windows, and once hehad peered closely across into the belt of shadow below the hedge, thinking that he had detected something which moved there. Steppingto the window, the slinking shape had emerged into the moonlight--andhad proclaimed itself to be that of a black cat!

Yet he had been sorely tempted to act upon the advice so strangelyoffered. He refrained from doing so, however, reflecting that to spendhis evenings with closed and barred shutters now that a spell of hotweather seemed to be imminent would be insufferable. Up and down theroom he paced tirelessly, always confronted by the eternal problem. 

Forcing himself at last to begin work if only as a sedative, he filledand lighted his pipe, turned off the centre lamp and lighted thereading lamp upon his table. He sat down to consider the papersbearing upon the death of Eriksen. For half an hour he read onsteadily and made a number of pencil notes. Then he desisted and satstaring straight before him. 

What possible motive could there be in assassinating these people? Thecase of the Grand Duke might be susceptible of explanation, but thoseof Henrik Ericksen and Sir Frank Narcombe were not. Furthermore hecould perceive no links connecting the three, and no reason why theyshould have engaged the attention of a common enemy. Such crimes wouldseem to be purposeless. Assuming that "The Scorpion" was an individual, that individual apparently was a dangerous homicidal maniac. 

But, throughout the documents, he could discover no clue pointing tothe existence of such an entity. "The Scorpion" might be an inventionof the fertile brain of M. Gaston Max; for it had become more and moreevident, as he had read, that the attempt to trace these deaths to anidentical source had originated at the Service de Surete, and it wasfrom Paris that the name "The Scorpion" had come. The fate of Max wassignificant, of course. The chances of his death proving to have beendue to accident were almost negligible and the fact that a fragment ofa golden scorpion had actually been found upon his body was certainlycurious. 

"Close your shutters at night.... "

How the words haunted him and how hotly he despised himself for agrowing apprehension which refused to be ignored. It was more mentalthan physical, this dread which grew with the approach of midnight, and it resembled that which had robbed him of individuality and allbut stricken him inert when he had seen upon the moon-bright screen ofthe curtains the shadow of a cowled man. 

Dark forces seemed to be stirring, and some unseen menace crept nearto him out of the darkness. 

The house was of early Victorian fashion and massive folding shutterswere provided to close the French windows. He never used them, as amatter of fact, but now he tested the fastenings which kept them inplace against the inner wall and even moved them in order to learn ifthey were still serviceable. 

Of all the mysteries which baffled him, that of the piece ofcardboard in the envelope sealed with a Chinese coin was the mostirritating. It seemed like the purposeless trick of a child, yet ithad led to the presence of the cowled man--and to the presence ofMlle. Dorian. Why?

He sat down at his table again. 

"Damn the whole business!" he said. "It is sending me crazy. "

Selecting from the heap of documents a large sheet of note-paperbearing a blue diagram of a human bust, marked with figures andmarginal notes, he began to read the report to which it wasappended--that of Dr. Halesowen. It stated that the late Sir FrankNarcombe had a "horizontal" heart, slightly misplaced and dilatated, with other details which really threw no light whatever upon thecause of his death. 

"_I_ have a horizontal heart, " growled Stuart--"and considering myconsumption of tobacco it is certainly dilatated. But I don't expectto drop dead in a theatre nevertheless. "

He read on, striving to escape from that shadowy apprehension, but ashe read he was listening to the night sounds of London, to thewhirring of distant motors, the whistling of engines upon the railwayand dim hooting of sirens from the Thames. A slight breeze had arisenand it rustled in the feathery foliage of the acacias and made awhispering sound as it stirred the leaves of the privet hedge. 

The drone of an approaching car reached his ears. Pencil in hand, hesat listening. The sound grew louder, then ceased. Either the carhad passed or had stopped somewhere near the house. Came a rap onthe door. 

"Yes, " called Stuart and stood up, conscious of excitement. 

Mrs. M'Gregor came in. 

"There is nothing further you'll be wanting to-night?" she asked. 

"No, " said Stuart, strangely disappointed, but smiling at the oldlady cheerfully. "I shall turn in very shortly. "

"A keen east wind has arisen, " she continued, severely eyeing theopened windows, "and even for a medical man you are strangelyimprudent. Shall I shut the windows?"

"No, don't trouble, Mrs. M'Gregor. The room gets very stuffy withtobacco smoke, and really it is quite a warm night. I shall closethem before I retire, of course. "

"Ah well, " sighed Mrs. M'Gregor, preparing to depart. "Good-night, Mr. Keppel. "

"Good-night, Mrs. M'Gregor. "

She retired, and Stuart sat staring out into the darkness. He wasnot prone to superstition, but it seemed like tempting providence toremain there with the windows open any longer. Yet paradoxically, helacked the moral courage to close them--to admit to himself that hewas afraid!

The telephone bell rang, and he started back in his chair as thoughto avoid a blow. 

By doing so he avoided destruction. 

At the very instant that the bell rang out sharply in the silence--soexact is the time-table of Kismet--a needle-like ray of blue lightshot across the lawn from beyond and above the hedge and--but forthat nervous start--must have struck fully upon the back of Stuart'sskull. Instead, it shone past his head, which it missed only byinches, and he experienced a sensation as though some one hadbuffeted him upon the cheek furiously. He pitched out of his chairand on to the carpet. 

The first object which the ray touched was the telephone; and next, beyond it, a medical dictionary; beyond that again, the grate, inwhich a fire was laid. 

"My God!" groaned Stuart--"what is it!"

An intense crackling sound deafened him, and the air of the roomseemed to have become hot as that of an oven. There came a series ofdull reports--an uncanny wailing ... And the needle-ray vanished. A monstrous shadow, moon-cast, which had lain across the carpet ofthe lawn--the shadow of a cowled man--vanished also. 

Clutching the side of his head, which throbbed and tingled as thoughfrom the blow of an open hand, Stuart struggled to his feet. Therewas smoke in the room, a smell of burning and of fusing metal. Heglared at the table madly. 

The mouthpiece of the telephone had vanished!

"My God!" he groaned again, and clutched at the back of the chair. 

His dictionary was smouldering slowly. It had a neat round hole somethree inches in diameter, bored completely through, cover to cover!The fire in the grate was flaring up the chimney!

He heard the purr of a motor in the lane beside the house. The roomwas laden with suffocating fumes. Stuart stood clutching the chair andstriving to retain composure--sanity. The car moved out of the lane. 

Someone was running towards the back gate of the house ... Wasscrambling over the hedge ... Was racing across the lawn!

A man burst into the study. He was a man of somewhat heavy build, clean-shaven and inclined to pallor. The hirsute blue tinge about hislips and jaw lent added vigour to a flexible but masterful mouth. Hisdark hair was tinged with grey, his dark eyes were brilliant withexcitement. He was very smartly dressed and wore light tan gloves. Hereeled suddenly, clutching at a chair for support. 

"Quick! quick!" he cried--"the telephone! ... Ah!"

Just inside the window he stood, swaying and breathing rapidly, hisgaze upon the instrument. 

"_Mon Dieu!_" he cried--"what has happened, then!"

Stuart stared at the new-comer dazedly. 

"Hell has been in my room!" he replied. "That's all!"

"Ah!" said the stranger--"again he eludes me! The telephone was theonly chance. _Pas d'blaque!_ we are finished!"

He dropped into a chair, removed his light grey hat and began to dryhis moist brow with a fine silk handkerchief. Stuart stared at himlike a man who is stupefied. The room was still laden with strangefumes. 

"_Blimey!_" remarked the new-comer, and his Whitechapel was as perfectas his Montmatre. He was looking at the decapitated telephone. "Thisis a knock-out!"

"Might I ask, " said Stuart, endeavouring to collect his scatteredsenses, "where you came from?"

"From up a tree!" was the astonishing reply. "It was the only wayto get over!"

"Up a tree!"

"Exactly. Yes, I was foolish. I am too heavy. But what could I do!We must begin all over again. "

Stuart began to doubt his sanity. This was no ordinary man. 

"Might I ask, " he said, "who you are and what you are doing in myhouse?"

"Ah!" The stranger laughed merrily. "You wonder about me--I can seeit. Permit me to present myself--Gaston Max, at your service!"

"Gaston Max!" Stuart glared at the speaker incredulously. "Gaston Max!Why, I conduct a _post mortem_ examination upon Gaston Max tomorrow, in order to learn if he was poisoned!"

"Do not trouble, doctor. That poor fellow is not Gaston Max and hewas not poisoned. You may accept my word for it. I had the misfortuneto strangle him. "

PART II

STATEMENT OF GASTON MAX

I. THE DANCER OF MONTMARTRE

CHAPTER I

ZARA EL-KHALA

The following statement which I, Gaston Max, am drawing up induplicate for the guidance of whoever may inherit the task of tracing"The Scorpion"--a task which I have begun--will be lodged--one copy atthe Service de Surete in Paris, and the other copy with theCommissioner of Police, New Scotland Yard. As I apprehend that I may beassassinated at any time, I propose to put upon record all that I havelearned concerning the series of murders which I believe to betraceable to a certain person. In the event of my death, my Frenchcolleagues will open the sealed packet containing this statement andthe English Assistant Commissioner of the Special Branch responsiblefor international affairs will receive instructions to open that whichI shall have lodged at Scotland Yard. 

This matter properly commenced, then, with the visit to Paris, incognito, of the Grand Duke Ivan, that famous soldier of whom so muchwas expected, and because I had made myself responsible for his safetyduring the time that he remained in the French capital, I (alsoincognito be it understood) struck up a friendship with one Casimir, the Grand Duke's valet. Nothing is sacred to a valet, and from CasimirI counted upon learning the real reason which had led this nobleman tovisit Paris at so troublous a time. Knowing the Grand Duke to be a manof gallantry, I anticipated finding a woman in the case--and I was notwrong. 

Yes, there was a woman, and _nom d'nom!_she was beautiful. Now in Paris we have many beautiful women, and in times ofinternational strife it is true that we have had to shoot some ofthem. For my own part I say with joy that I have never beeninstrumental in bringing a woman to such an end. Perhaps I amsentimental; it is a French weakness; but on those few occasions whenI have found a guilty woman in my power--and she has been pretty--_morbleu!_--she has escaped! It may be that I have seen to it that shewas kept out of further mischief, but nevertheless she has never met afiring-party because of me. Very well. 

From the good fellow Casimir I learned that a certain dancer appearingat one of our Montmartre theatres had written to the Grand Duke cravingthe honour of his autograph--and enclosing her photograph. 

Pf! it was enough. One week later the autograph arrived--attached to aninvitation to dine with the Grand Duke at his hotel in Paris. Yes--hehad come to Paris. I have said that he was susceptible and I have saidthat she was beautiful. I address myself to men of the world, and Ishall not be in error if I assume that they will say, "A wealthy fooland a designing woman. It is an old story. " Let us see. 

The confidences of Casimir interested me in more ways than one. In thefirst place I had particular reasons for suspecting anyone who soughtto obtain access to the Grand Duke. These were diplomatic. And in thesecond place I had suspicions of Zara el-Khala. These were personal. 

Yes--so she called herself--Zara el-Khala, which in Arabic is"Flower of the Desert. " She professed to be an Egyptian, and certainlyshe had the long, almond-shaped eyes of the East, but her white skinbetrayed her, and I knew that whilst she might possess Eastern blood, she was more nearly allied to Europe than to Africa. It is my businessto note unusual matters, you understand, and I noticed that thisbeautiful and accomplished woman of whom all Paris was beginning tospeak rapturously remained for many weeks at a small Montmartretheatre. Her performance, which was unusually decorous for the typeof establishment at which she appeared, had not apparently led to anengagement elsewhere. 

This aroused the suspicions to which I have referred. In the characterof a vaudeville agent I called at the Montmartre theatre and wasinformed by the management that Zara-el-Khala received no visitors, professional or otherwise. A small but expensive car awaited her atthe stage door. My suspicions increased. I went away, but returned onthe following night, otherwise attired, and from a hiding-place whichI had selected on the previous evening I watched the dancer depart. 

She came out so enveloped in furs and veils as to be unrecognizable, and a Hindu wearing a chauffeur's uniform opened the door of the carfor her, and then, having arranged the rugs to her satisfaction, mounted to the wheel and drove away. 

I traced the car. It had been hired for the purpose of taking Zarael-Khala from her hotel--to the theatre and home nightly. I sent aman to call upon her at the hotel--in order to obtain press material, ostensibly. She declined to see him. I became really interested. Isent her a choice bouquet, having the card of a nobleman attached toit, together with a message of respectful admiration. It was returned. I prevailed upon one of the most handsome and gallant cavalry officersin Paris to endeavour to make her acquaintance. He was rebuffed. 

_Eh bien!_ I knew then that Mlle. Zara of the Desert was unusual. 

You will at once perceive that when I heard from the worthy Casimirhow this unapproachable lady had actually written to the Grand DukeIvan and had gone so far as to send him her photograph, I becameexcited. It appeared to me that I found myself upon the brink of animportant discovery. I set six of my first-class men at work: threebeing detailed to watch the hotel of the Grand Duke Ivan and three towatch Zara el-Khala. Two more were employed in watching the Hinduservant and one in watching my good friend Casimir. Thus, nine clevermen and myself were immediately engaged upon the case. 

Why do I speak of a "case" when thus far nothing of apparentimportance had occurred? I will explain. Although the Grand Duketravelled incognito, his Government knew of the journey and wished tolearn with what object it had been undertaken. 

At the time that I made the acquaintance of Casimir the Grand Dukehad been in Paris for three days, and he was--according to myinformant--"like a raging lion. " The charming dancer had vouchsafedno reply to his invitation and he had met with the same reception, onpresenting himself in person, which had been accorded to myself and tothose others who had sought to obtain an interview with Zara el-Khala!

My state of mystification grew more and more profound. I studied thereports of my nine assistants. 

It appeared that the girl had been in Paris for a period of two months. She occupied a suite of rooms in which all her meals were served. Except the Hindu who drove the hired car, she had no servant. Shenever appeared in the public part of the hotel unless veiled, and thenmerely in order to pass out to the car or in from it on returning. Shedrove out every day. She had been followed, of course, but herproceedings were unexceptionable. Leaving the car at a point in theBois De Boulogne, she would take a short walk, if the day was fineenough, never proceeding out of sight of the Hindu, who followed withthe automobile, and would then drive back to her hotel. She neverreceived visits and never met any one during these daily excursions. 

I turned to the report dealing with the Hindu. He had hired a room high up under the roof of an apartment house whereforeign waiters and others had their abodes. He bought and cooked hisown food, which apparently consisted solely of rice, lentils and fruit. He went every morning to the garage and attended to the car, calledfor his mistress, and having returned remained until evening in hisown apartment. At night, after returning from the theatre, hesometimes went out, and my agent had failed to keep track of him onevery occasion that he had attempted pursuit. I detached the man whowas watching Casimir and whose excellent reports revealed the factthat Casimir was an honest fellow--as valets go--and instructed himto assist in tracing the movements of the Hindu. 

Two nights later they tracked him to a riverside cafe kept by agigantic quadroon from Dominique and patronized by that type whichforms a link between the lowest commercial and the criminal classes:itinerant vendors of Eastern rugs, street performers and Turkishcigarette makers. 

At last I began to have hopes. The Grand Duke at this time wasspeaking of leaving Paris, but as he had found temporary consolationin the smiles of a lady engaged at the "Folies" I did not anticipatethat he would depart for several days at any rate. Also he was thekind of man who is stimulated by obstacles. 

The Hindu remained for an hour in the cafe, smoking and drinkingsome kind of syrup, and one of my fellows watched him. Presently theproprietor called him into a little room behind the counter and closedthe door. The Hindu and the quadroon remained there for a few minutes, then the Hindu came out and left the cafe, returning to his abode. There was a telephone in this inner room, and my agent was of opinionthat the Indian had entered either to make or to receive a call. Icaused the line to be tapped. 

On the following night the Hindu came back to the cafe, followed byone of my men. I posted myself at a selected point and listened forany message that might pass over the line to or from the cafe. Atabout the same hour as before--according to the report--someone calledup the establishment, asking for "Miguel. " This was the quadroon, andI heard his thick voice replying. The other voice--which had firstspoken--was curiously sibilant but very distinct. Yet it did not soundlike the voice of a Frenchman or of any European. This was theconversation:

"Miguel. "

"Miguel speaks. "

"_Scorpion. _ A message for Chunda Lal. "

"Very good. "

Almost holding my breath, so intense was my excitement, I waitedwhilst Miguel went to bring the Hindu. Suddenly a new voicespoke--that of the Hindu. 

"Chunda Lal speaks, " it said. 

I clenched by teeth; I knew that I must not miss a syllable. 

"Scorpion" replied ... In voluble _Hindustani_--a language of which Iknow less than a dozen words!

CHAPTER II

CONCERNING THE GRAND DUKE

Although I had met with an unforeseen check, I had nevertheless learnedthree things. I had learned that Miguel the quadroon was possibly inleague with the Hindu; that the Hindu was called Chunda Lal; and thatChunda Lal received messages, probably instructions, from a thirdparty who announced his presence by the word "_Scorpion_. "

One of my fellows, of course, had been in the cafe all the evening, and from him I obtained confirmation of the fact that it had been theHindu who had been summoned to the telephone and whom I had heardspeaking. Instant upon the man at the cafe replacing the telephoneand disconnecting, I called up the exchange. They had been warned andwere in readiness. 

"From what subscriber did that call come?" I demanded. 

Alas! another check awaited me. It had originated in a public calloffice, and "Scorpion" was untraceable by this means!

Despair is not permitted by the traditions of the Service de Surete. Therefore I returned to my flat and recorded the facts of the matterthus far established. I perceived that I had to deal, not with adesigning woman, but with some shadowy being of whom she was aninstrument. The anomaly of her life was in a measure explained. Shesojourned in Paris for a purpose--a mysterious purpose which wasconcerned (I could not doubt it) with the Grand Duke Ivan. This wasnot an amorous but a political intrigue. 

I communicated, at a late hour, with the senior of the three menwatching the Grand Duke. The Grand Duke that evening had sent ahandsome piece of jewellery purchased in Rue de la Paix to the dancer. It had been returned. 

In the morning I met with the good Casimir at his favorite cafe. Hehad just discovered that Zara el-Khala drove daily to the Bois deBoulogne, alone, and that afternoon the Grand Duke had determined toaccost her during her solitary walk. I prepared myself for this event. Arrayed in a workman's blouse and having a modest luncheon and a smallbottle of wine in a basket, I concealed myself in that part of theBois which was the favourite recreation ground of the dancer, andawaited her appearance. 

The Grand Duke appeared first upon the scene, accompanied by Casimir. The latter pointed out to him a path through the trees along whichZara el-Khala habitually strolled and showed him the point at whichshe usually rejoined the Hindu who followed along the road with thecar. They retired. I seated myself beneath a tree from whence I couldwatch the path and the road and began to partake of the repast whichI had brought with me. 

At about three o'clock the dancer's car appeared, and the girl, veiled as usual, stepped out, and having exchanged a few words withthe Indian, began to walk slowly towards me, sometimes pausing towatch a bird in the boughs above her and sometimes to examine somewild plant growing beside the way. I ate cheese from the point of aclasp-knife and drank wine out of the bottle. 

Suddenly she saw me. 

She had cast her veil aside in order to enjoy the cool and fragrantair, and as she stopped and regarded me doubtfully where I sat, I sawher beautiful face, undefiled, now, by make-up and unspoiled by thepresence of garish Eastern ornaments. _Nom d'un nom!_ but she was trulya lovely woman! My heart went out in sympathy to the poor Grand Duke. Had I received such a mark of favour from her as he had received, andhad I then been scorned as now she scorned him, I should have beendesperate indeed. 

Coming around a bend in the path, then, she stood only a few pacesaway, looking at me. I touched the peak of my cap. 

"Good-day, mademoiselle, " I said. "The weather is very beautiful. "

"Good-day, " she replied. 

I continued to eat cheese, and reassured she walked on past me. Twentyyards beyond, the Grand Duke was waiting. As I laid down my knife uponthe paper which had been wrapped around the bread and cheese, andraised the bottle to my lips, the enamoured nobleman stepped out fromthe trees and bowed low before Zara el-Khala. 

She started back from him--a movement of inimitable grace, like thatof a startled gazelle. And even before I had time to get upon my feetshe had raised a little silver whistle to her lips and blown a shortshrill note. 

The Grand Duke, endeavouring to seize her hand, was pouring outvoluble expressions of adoration in execrable French, and Zarael-Khala was retreating step by step. She had quickly thrown the veilabout her again. I heard the pad of swiftly running feet. If I was tointervene before the arrival of the Hindu, I must act rapidly. I racedalong the path and thrust myself between the Grand Duke and the girl. 

"Mademoiselle, " I said, "is this gentleman annoying you?"

"How dare you, low pig!" cried the Grand Duke, and with a sweep of hispowerful arm he hurled me aside. 

"Thank you, " replied Zara el-Khala with great composure. "But myservant is here. "

As I turned, Chunda Lal hurled himself upon the Grand Duke from behind. I had never seen an expression in a man's eyes like that in the eyesof the Hindu at this moment. They blazed like the eyes of a tiger, andhis teeth were bared in a savage grin which I cannot hope to describe. His lean body seemed to shoot through the air, and he descended uponhis burly adversary as a jungle beast falls upon its prey. Those longbrown fingers clasping his neck, the Grand Duke fell forward upon hisface. 

"Chunda Lal!" said the dancer. 

Kneeling, his right knee thrust between the shoulder blades of theprostrate man, the Hindu looked up--and I read murder in those glaringeyes. That he was an accomplished wrestler--or perhaps a strangler--Idivined from the helplessness of the Grand Duke, who lay inert, robbedof every power except that of his tongue. He was swearing savagely. 

"Chunda Lal!" said Zara el-Khala again. The Hindu shifted his grip from the neck to the arms of the GrandDuke. He pinioned him as is done in _jiu-jitsu_ and forced him tostand upright. It was a curious spectacle--the impotency of this burlynobleman in the hands of his slight adversary. As they swayed to theirfeet, I thought I saw the glint of metal in the right hand of theIndian, but I could not be sure, for my attention was diverted. Atthis moment Casimir appeared upon the scene, looking very frightened. 

Suddenly releasing his hold altogether, the Hindu glaring into theempurpled face of the Grand Duke, shot out one arm and pointed with aquivering finger along the path. 

"Go!" he said. 

The Grand Duke clenched his fists, looked from face to face as ifcalculating his chances, then shrugged his shoulders, verydeliberately wiped his neck and wrists, where the Indian had held him, with a large silk handkerchief and threw the handkerchief on theground. I saw a speck of blood upon the silk. Without another glancehe walked away, Casimir following sheepishly. It is needless, perhaps, to add that Casimir had not recognized me. 

I turned to the dancer, touching the peak of my cap. 

"Can I be of any assistance to mademoiselle?" I asked. 

"Thank you--no, " she replied. 

She placed five francs in my hand and set off rapidly through thetrees in the direction of the road, her bloodthirsty but faithfulattendant at her heels!

I stood scratching my head and looking after her. 

That afternoon I posted a man acquainted with Hindustani to tap anymessage which might be sent to or from the cafe used by Chunda Lal. I learned that the Grand Duke had taken a stage box at the Montmartretheatre at which the dancer was appearing, and I decided that I wouldbe present also. 

A great surprise was in store for me. 

Zara el-Khala had at this time established a reputation whichextended beyond those circles from which the regular patrons of thisestablishment were exclusively drawn and which had begun to penetrateto all parts of Paris. You will remember that it was the extraordinarycircumstance of her remaining at this obscure place of entertainmentso long which had first interested me in the lady. I had learned thatshe had rejected a number of professional offers, and, as I havealready stated, I had assured myself of this unusual attitude bypresenting the card of a well-known Paris agency--and being refusedadmittance. 

Now, as I leaned upon the rail at the back of the auditorium and thetime for the dancer's appearance grew near, I could not fail toobserve that there was a sprinkling of evening-dress in the stallsand that the two boxes already occupied boasted the presence of partiesof well-known men of fashion. Then the Grand Duke entered as a troupeof acrobats finished their performance. Zara el-Khala was next uponthe programme. I glanced at the Grand Duke and thought that he lookedpale and unwell. 

The tableau curtain fell and the manager appeared behind the footlights. He, also, seemed to be much perturbed. 

"Ladies and gentlemen, " he said, "I greatly regret to announce thatMlle. Zara el-Kahla is indisposed and unable to appear. We havesucceeded in obtaining the services----"

Of whom he had succeeded in obtaining the services I never heard, forthe rougher section of the audience rose at him like a menacing wave!They had come to see the Egyptian dancer and they would have theirmoney back! It was a swindle; they would smash the theatre!

If one had doubted the great and growing popularity of Zara el-Kahla, this demonstration must have proved convincing. Over the heads of theexcited audience, I saw the Grand Duke rise as if to retire. The otherbox parties were also standing up and talking angrily. 

"Why was it not announced outside the theatre?" someone shouted. "We did not know until twenty minutes ago!" cried the manager inaccents of despair. 

I hurried from the theatre and took a taxicab to the hotel of thedancer. Running into the hall, I thrust a card in the hand of aconcierge who stood there. 

"Announce to Mlle. Zara el-Khala that I must see her at once, " I said. 

The man smiled and returned the card to me. 

"Mlle. Zara el-Khala left Paris at seven o'clock, monsieur!"

"What! I cried--left Paris!"

"But certainly. Her baskets were taken to the Gare du Nord an hourearlier by her servant and she went off by the seven-fifty rapid forCalais. The theatre people were here asking for her an hour ago. "

I hurried to my office to obtain the latest reports of my men, I hadlost touch with them, you understand, during the latter part of theafternoon and evening. I found there the utmost confusion. They hadbeen seeking me all over Paris to inform me that Zara el-Khala hadleft. Two men had followed her and had telephoned from Calais forinstructions. She had crossed by the night mail for Dover. It wasalready too late to instruct the English police. 

For a few hours I had relaxed my usual vigilance--and this was theresult. What could I do? Zara el-Khala had committed no crime, buther sudden flight--for it looked like flight you will agree--washighly suspicious. And as I sat there in my office filled with allsorts of misgivings, in ran one of the men engaged in watching theGrand Duke. 

The Grand Duke had been seized with illness as he left his box in theMontmartre theatre and had died before his car could reach the hotel!

CHAPTER III

A STRANGE QUESTION

A conviction burst upon my mind that a frightful crime had beencommitted. By whom and for what purpose I knew not. I hastened to thehotel of the Grand Duke. Tremendous excitement prevailed there, ofcourse. There is no more certain way for a great personage to courtpublicity than to travel incognito. Everywhere that "M. De Stahler"had appeared all Paris had cried, "There goes the Grand Duke Ivan!"And now as I entered the hotel, press, police and public weredemanding: "Is it true that the Grand Duke is dead?" Just emergingfrom the lift I saw Casimir. _In propria persona_--as M. Max--hefailed to recognize me. 

"My good man, " I said--"are you a member of the suite of the lateGrand Duke?"

"I am, or was, the valet of M. De Stahler, monsieur, " he replied. 

I showed him my card. 

"To me 'M. De Stahler' is the Grand Duke Ivan. What other servants hadhe with him?" I asked, although I knew very well. 

"None, monsieur. "

"Where and when was he taken ill?"

"At the Theatre Coquerico. Montmartre, at about a quarter past teno'clock to-night. "

"Who was with him?"

"No one, monsieur. His Highness was alone in a box. I had instructionsto call with the car at eleven o'clock. "

"Well?"

"The theatre management telephoned at a quarter past ten to say thatHis Highness had been taken ill and that a physician had been sent for. I went in the car at once and found him lying in one of thedressing-rooms to which he had been carried. A medical man was inattendance. The Grand Duke was unconscious. We moved him to the car----"

"_We?_"

"The doctor, the theatre manager, and myself. The Grand Duke was thenalive, the physician declared, although he seemed to me to be alreadydead. But just before we reached the hotel, the physician, who waswatching His Highness anxiously, cried, 'Ah, _mon Dieu!_ It is finished. What a catastrophe!'"

"He was dead?"

"He was dead, monsieur. "

"Who has seen him?"

"They have telephoned for half the doctors in Paris, monsieur, but itis too late. "

He was affected, the good Casimir. Tears welled up in his eyes. Imounted in the lift to the apartment in which the Grand Duke lay. Three doctors were there, one of them being he of whom Casimir hadspoken. Consternation was written on every face. 

"It was his heart, " I was assured by the doctor who had been summonedto the theatre. "We shall find that he suffered from heart trouble. "

They were all agreed upon the point. 

"He must have sustained a great emotional shock, " said another. 

"You are convinced that there was no foul play, gentlemen?" I asked. 

They were quite unanimous on the point. 

"Did the Grand Duke make any statement at the time of the seizurewhich would confirm the theory of a heart attack?"

No. He had fallen down unconscious outside the door of his box, andfrom this unconsciousness he had never recovered. (Depositions ofwitnesses, medical evidence and other documents are available forthe guidance of whoever may care to see them, but, as is well known, the death of the Grand Duke was ascribed to natural causes and itseemed as though my trouble would after all prove to be in vain. )Let us see what happened. 

Leaving the hotel, on the night of the Grand Duke's death, I joinedthe man who was watching the cafe telephone. 

There had been a message during the course of the evening, but it hadbeen for a Greek cigarette-maker and it referred to the theft ofseveral bales of Turkish tobacco--useful information, of minor kind, but of little interest to me. I knew that it would be useless toquestion the man Miguel, although I strongly suspected him of beinga member of "The Scorpion's" organization. Any patron of theestablishment enjoyed the privilege of receiving private telephonecalls at the cafe on payment of a small fee. 

A man of less experience in obscure criminology might now have assumedthat he had been misled by a series of striking coincidences. Remember, there was not a shadow of doubt in the minds of the medical expertsthat the Grand Duke had died from syncope. His own professionaladvisor had sent written testimony to show that there was hereditaryheart trouble, although not of a character calculated to lead to afatal termination except under extraordinary circumstances. His ownGovernment, which had every reason to suspect that the Grand Duke'sassassination might be attempted, was satisfied. _Eh bien!_ I was not. 

I cross-examined the manager of the Theatre Coquerico. He admitted thatMlle. Zara el-Khala had been a mystery throughout her engagement. Neither he nor anyone else connected with the house had ever enteredher dressing-room or held any conversation with her, whatever, exceptthe stage-manager and the musical director. These had spoken to herabout her music and about lighting and other stage effects. She spokeperfect French. 

Such a state of affairs was almost incredible, but was explained bythe fact that the dancer, at a most modest salary, had doubled thetakings of the theatre in a few days and had attracted capacitybusiness throughout the remainder of her engagement. She had writtenfrom Marseilles, enclosing press notices and other usual matter andhad been booked direct for one week. She had remained for two months, and might have remained for ever, the poor manager assured me, at fivetimes the salary!

A curious fact now came to light. In all her photographs Zarael-Khala appeared veiled, in the Eastern manner; that is to say, shewore a white silk _yashmak_ which concealed all her face except hermagnificent eyes! On the stage the veil was discarded; in thephotographs it was always present. 

And the famous picture which she had sent to the Grand Duke? He haddestroyed it, in a fit of passion, on returning from the Bois deBoulogne after his encounter with Chunda Lal!

It is Fate after all--Kismet--and not the wit of man which leads tothe apprehension of really great criminals--a tireless Fate whichdogs their footsteps, a remorseless Fate from which they fly in vain. Long after the funeral of the Grand Duke, and at a time when I hadalmost forgotten Zara el-Khala, I found myself one evening at theopera with a distinguished French scientist and he chanced to referto the premature death (which had occurred a few months earlier) ofHenrik Ericksen, the Norwegian. 

"A very great loss to the century, M. Max, " he said. "Ericksen was aseminent in electrical science as the Grand Duke Ivan was eminent inthe science of war. Both were stricken down in the prime of life--andunder almost identical circumstances. "

"That is true, " I said thoughtfully. 

"It would almost seem, " he continued, "as if Nature had determined tofoil any further attempts to rifle her secrets and Heaven to checkmankind in the making of future wars. Only three months after theGrand Duke's death, the American admiral, Mackney, died at sea--youwill remember? Now, following Ericksen, Van Rembold, undoubtedly thegreatest mining engineer of the century and the only man who hasever produced radium in workable quantities, is seized with illnessat a friend's house and expires even before medical aid can besummoned. "

"It is very strange. '

"It is uncanny. "

"Were you personally acquainted with the late Van Rembold?" I asked. 

"I knew him intimately--a man of unusual charm, M. Max; and I haveparticular reason to remember his death, for I actually met him andspoke to him less than an hour before he died. We only exchanged afew words--we met on the street; but I shall never forget the subjectof our chat. "

"How is that?" I asked. 

"Well, I presume Van Rembold's question was prompted by his knowledgeof the fact that I had studied such subjects at one time; but heasked me if I knew of any race or sect in Africa or Asia whoworshipped scorpions. "

"_Scorpions!_" I cried. "_Ah, mon Dieu!_ monsieur say it again--_scorpions?_"

"But yes, certainly. Does it surprise you?"

"Did it not surprise _you_?"

"Undoubtedly. I could not imagine what had occurred to account forhis asking so strange a question. I replied that I knew of no suchsect, and Van Rembold immediately changed the subject, nor did herevert to it. So that I never learned why he had made that singularinquiry. "

You can imagine that this conversation afforded me much food forreflection. Whilst I could think of no reason why anyone should plotto assassinate Grand Dukes, admirals and mining engineers, thecircumstances of the several cases were undoubtedly similar in anumber of respects. But it was the remarkable question asked by VanRembold which particularly aroused my interest. 

Of course it might prove to be nothing more than a coincidence, butwhen one comes to consider how rarely the word "scorpion" is used, outside those in which these insects abound, it appears to besomething more. Van Rembold, then, had had some occasion to feelcurious about the scorpions; the name "Scorpion" was associatedwith the Hindu follower of Zara el-Khala; and she was who hadbrought the Grand Duke to Paris, where he had died. 

Oh! it was a very fragile thread, but by following such a thread asthis we are sometimes led to the heart of a labyrinth. 

Beyond wondering if some sinister chain bound together this series ofapparently natural deaths I might have made no move in the matter, butsomething occurred which spurred me to action. Sir Frank Narcombe, thegreat English surgeon, collapsed in the foyer of a London theatre anddied shortly afterwards. Here again I perceived a case of a notableman succumbing unexpectedly in a public place--a case parallel to thatof the Grand Duke, of Ericksen, of Van Rembold! it seemed as thoughsome strange epidemic had attacked men of science--yes! they were allmen of science, even including the Grand Duke, who was said to be themost scientific soldier in Europe, and the admiral, who had perfectedthe science of submarine warfare. 

"The Scorpion!" ... That name haunted me persistently. So much so thatat last I determined to find out for myself if Sir Frank Narcombe hadever spoken about a scorpion or if there was any evidence to show thathe had been interested in the subject. 

I could not fail to remember, too, that Zara el-Khala had last beenreported as crossing to England. 

CHAPTER IV

THE FIGHT IN THE CAFE

New Scotland Yard had been advised that any reference to a scorpion, in whatever form it occurred, should be noted and followed up, butnothing had resulted and as a matter of fact I was not surprised inthe least. All that I had learned--and this was little enough--I hadlearned more or less by accident. But I came to the conclusion that avisit to London might be advisable. 

I had caused a watch to be kept upon the man Miguel, whoseestablishment seemed to be a recognized resort of shady characters. I had no absolute proof, remember, that he knew anything of theprivate affairs of the Hindu, and no further reference to a scorpionhad been made by anyone using the cafe telephone. Nevertheless Idetermined to give him a courtesy call before leaving for London ... And to this determination I cannot doubt that once again I was ledby providence. 

Attired in a manner calculated to enable me to pass unnoticed amongthe patrons of the establishment, I entered the place and orderedcognac. Miguel having placed it before me, I lighted a cigarette andsurveyed my surroundings. 

Eight or nine men were in the cafe, and two women. Four of the menwere playing cards at a corner table, and the others were distributedabout the place, drinking and smoking. The women, who were flashilydressed but who belonged to that order of society which breeds theApache, were deep in conversation with a handsome Algerian. Irecognized only one face in the cafe--that of a dangerous character, Jean Sach, who had narrowly escaped the electric chair in the UnitedStates and who was well known to the Bureau. He was smiling at one ofthe two women--the woman to whom the Algerian seemed to be moreparticularly addressing himself. 

Another there was in the cafe who interested me as a student ofphysiognomy--a dark, bearded man, one of the card-players. His facewas disfigured by a purple scar extending from his brow to the leftcorner of his mouth, which it had drawn up into a permanent snarl, so that he resembled an enraged and dangerous wild animal. MentallyI classified this person as "Le Balafre. "

I had just made up my mind to depart when the man Sach arose, crossedthe cafe and seated himself insolently between the Algerian and thewoman to whom the latter was talking. Turning his back upon the brownman, he addressed some remark to the woman, at the same time leeringin her face. 

Women of this class are difficult, you understand? Sach received fromthe lady a violent blow upon the face which rolled him on the floor!As he fell, the Algerian sprang up and drew a knife. Sach rolled away from him and also reached for the knife which he carried in ahip-pocket. 

Before he could draw it, Miguel, the quadroon proprietor, threwhimself upon him and tried to pitch him into the street. But Sach, although a small man, was both agile and ferocious. He twisted out ofthe grasp of the huge quadroon and turned, raising the knife. As hedid so, the Algerian deftly kicked it from his grasp and left Sach toface Miguel unarmed. Screaming with rage, he sprang at Miguel's throat, and the tow fell writhing upon the floor. 

There could only be one end to such a struggle, of course, as theAlgerian recognized by replacing his knife in his pocket and resuminghis seat. Miguel obtained a firm hold upon Sacah and raised him bodilyabove his head, as one has seen a professional weight-lifter raise aheavy dumb-bell. Thus he carried him, kicking and foaming at the mouthwith passion, to the open door. From the step he threw him into themiddle of the street. 

At this moment I observed something glittering upon the floor close tothe chair occupied by the Algerian. Standing up--for I had determinedto depart--I crossed in that direction, stooped and picked up thisobject which glittered. As my fingers touched it, so did my heart givea great leap. 

The object was a _golden scorpion!_

Forgetful of my dangerous surroundings I stood looking at the goldenornament in my hand ... When suddenly and violently it was snatchedfrom me! The Algerian, his brown face convulsed with rage, confronted me. 

"Where did you find that charm?" he cried. "It belongs to me. "

"Very well, " I replied--"you have it. "

He glared at me with a ferocity which the incident scarcely seemed tomerit and exchanged a significant glance with someone who hadapproached and who now stood behind me. Turning, I met a second blackgaze--that of the quadroon who having restored order had returned fromthe cafe door and now stood regarding me. "Did you find it on thefloor?" asked Miguel suspiciously. 

"I did. "

He turned to the Algerian. 

"It fell when you kicked the knife from the hand of that pig, " hesaid. "You should be more careful. "

Again they exchanged significant glances, but the Algerian resumedhis seat and Miguel went behind the counter. I left the cafeconscious of the fact that black looks pursued me. 

The night was very dark, and as I came out on to the pavement someonetouched me on the arm. I turned in a flash. 

"Walk on, friend, " said the voice of Jean Sach. "What was it that youpicked up from the floor?"

"A golden scorpion, " I answered quickly. 

"Ah!" he whispered--"I thought so! It is enough. They shall pay forwhat they have done to me--those two. Hurry, friend, as I do. "

Before I could say another word or strive to detain him, he turnedand ran off along a narrow courtway which at this point branched fromthe street. 

I stood for a moment, nonplussed, staring after him. By good fortuneI had learned more in ten minutes than by the exercise of all myingenuity and the resources of the Service I could have learned inten months! _Par al barbe du prophete_ the Kismet which dogs thefootsteps of malefactors assisted me!

Recollecting the advice of Jean Sach, I set off at a brisk pace alongthe street, which was dark and deserted and which passed through adistrict marked red on the Paris crimes-map. Arriving at the corner, above which projected a lamp, I paused and glanced back into thedarkness. I could see no one, but I thought I could detect the soundof stealthy footsteps following me. 

The suspicion was enough. I quickened my pace, anxious to reach thecrowded boulevard upon which this second street opened. I reached itunmolested, but intending to throw any pursuer off the track, I dodgedand doubled repeatedly on the way to my flat and arrived there aboutmidnight, convinced that I had eluded pursuit--if indeed I had beenpursued. 

All my arrangements were made for leaving Paris, and now I telephonedto the assistant on duty in my office, instructing him to take certainsteps in regard to the proprietor of the cafe and the Algerian and tofind the hiding-place of the man Jean-Sach. I counted it more thanever important that I should go to London at once. 

In this belief I was confirmed at the very moment that I boarded theChannel steamer at Boulogne: for as I stepped upon the deck I foundmyself face to face with a man who was leaning upon the rail andapparently watching the passengers coming on board. He was a man ofheavy build, dark and bearded, and his face was strangely familiar. 

Turning, as I lighted a cigarette, I glanced back at him in order toobtain a view of his profile. I knew him instantly--for now the scarwas visible. It was "Le Balafre" who had been playing cards inMiguel's cafe on the previous night!

I have sometimes been criticised, especially by my English confreres, for my faith in disguise. I have been told that no disguise isimpenetrable to the trained eye. I reply that there are many disguisesbut few trained eyes! To my faith in disguise I owed the knowledgethat a golden scorpion was the token of some sort of gang, society, orcriminal group, and to this same faith which an English inspector ofpolice once assured me to be a misplaced one I owed, on boarding thesteamer, my escape from detection by this big bearded fellow who waspossibly looking out for me!

Yet, I began to wonder if after all I had escaped the shadowy pursuerwhose presence I had suspected in the dark street outside the cafe orif he had tracked me and learned my real identity. In any event, theroles were about to be reversed! "Le Balafre" at Folkestone took a seatin a third-class carriage of the London train. I took one in the nextcompartment. 

Arrived at Charing Cross, he stood for a time in the booking-hall, glanced at his watch, and then took up the handbag which he carriedand walked out into the station yard. I walked out also. 

"Le Balafre" accosted a cabman; and as he did so I passed closebehind him and overheard a part of the conversation. 

"... Bow Road Station East! It's too far. What?"

I glanced back. The bearded man was holding up a note--a pound noteapparently. I saw the cabman nod. Without an instant's delay I rushedup to another cabman who had just discharged a passenger. 

"To Bow Road Station East!" I said to the man. "Double fare if youare quick!"

It would be a close race. But I counted on the aid of that Fate whichdogs the steps of wrong-doers! My cab was off first and the driver hadevery reason for hurrying. From the moment that we turned out into theStrand until we arrived at our destination I saw no more of"Le Balafre. " My extensive baggage I must hope to recover later. 

At Bow Road Station I discovered a telephone box in a dark cornerwhich commanded a view of the street. I entered this box and waited. It was important that I should remain invisible. Unless my beardedfriend had been unusually fortunate he could not well have arrivedbefore me. 

As it chanced I had nearly six minutes to wait. Then, not ten yardsaway, I saw "Le Balafre" arrive and dismiss the cabman outside thestation. 

There was nothing furtive in his manner; he was evidently satisfiedthat no one pursued him; and he stood in the station entrance almostoutside my box and lighted a cigar!

Placing his bag upon the floor, he lingered, looking to left and right, when suddenly a big closed car painted dull yellow drew up beside thepavement. It was driven by a brown-faced chauffeur whose nationalityI found difficulty in placing, for he wore large goggles. But beforeI could determine upon my plan of action, "Le Balafre" crossed thepavement and entered the car--and the car glided smoothly away, goingEast. A passing lorry obstructed my view and I even failed to obtaina glimpse of the number on the plate. 

But I had seen something which had repaid me for my trouble. As theman of the scar had walked up to the car, had exhibited to thebrown-skinned chauffeur some object which he held in the palm of hishand ... An object which glittered like gold!

II. "LE BALAFRE"

CHAPTER I

I BECOME CHARLES MALET

Behold me established in rooms in Battersea and living retired duringthe day while I permitted my beard to grow. I had recognized that mymystery of "The Scorpion" was the biggest case which had ever engagedthe attention of the Service de Surete, and I was prepared, ifnecessary, to devote my whole time for twelve months to its solution. I had placed myself in touch with Paris, and had had certain papersand licenses forwarded to me. A daily bulletin reached me, and one ofthese bulletins was sensational. 

The body of Jean Sach had been recovered from the Seine. The man hadbeen stabbed to the heart. Surveillance of Miguel and his associatescontinued unceasingly, but I had directed that no raids or arrestswere to be made without direct orders from me. 

I was now possessed of a French motor license and also that of a Paristaxi-driver, together with all the other documents necessary toestablish the identity of one Charles Malet. Everything was in order. I presented myself--now handsomely bearded--at New Scotland Yard andapplied for a license. The "knowledge of London" and other tests Ipassed successfully and emerged a fully-fledged cabman!

Already I had opened negotiations for the purchase of a dilapidatedbut seviceable cab which belonged to a small proprietor who hadobtained a car of more up-to-date pattern to replace this obsoleteone. I completed these negotiations by paying down a certain sum andarranged to garage my cab in the disused stable of a house near myrooms in Battersea. 

Thus I now found myself in a position to appear anywhere at any timewithout exciting suspicion, enabled swiftly to proceed from point topoint and to pursue anyone either walking or driving whom it mightplease me to pursue. It was a _modus operandi_ which had served me wellin Paris and which had led to one of my biggest successes (the captureof the French desperado known as "Mr. Q. ") in New York. 

I had obtained, _via_ Paris, particulars of the recent death of SirFrank Narcombe, and the circumstances attendant upon his end were sosimilar to those which had characterized the fate of the Grand Duke, of Van Rembold and the others, that I could not for a moment believethem to be due to mere coincidence. Acting upon my advice Parisadvised Scotland Yard to press for a _post mortem_ examination of thebody, but the influence of Sir Frank's family was exercised to preventthis being carried out--and exercised successfully. 

Meanwhile, I hovered around the houses, flats, clubs and offices ofeveryone who had been associated with the late surgeon, noting to whataddresses they directed me to drive and who lived at those address. Inthis way I obtained evidence sufficient to secure three judicialseparations, but not a single clue leading to "The Scorpion"! Nomatter. 

At every available opportunity I haunted the East-End streets, hopingfor a glimpse of the big car and the brown-skinned chauffeur or of myscarred man from Paris. I frequented all sorts of public bars andeating-houses used by foreign and Asiatics. By day and by night Iroamed about the dismal thoroughfares of that depressing district, usually with my flag down to imply that I was engaged. 

Such diligence never goes long unrewarded. One evening, havingdischarged a passenger, a mercantile officer, at the East India Docks, as I was drifting, watchfully, back through Limehouse, I saw a largecar pull up just ahead of me in the dark. A man got out and the carwas driven off. 

Two courses presented themselves. I was not sure that this was thecar for which I sought, but it strangely resembled it. Should I followthe car or the man? A rapid decision was called for. I followed the man. 

That I had not been mistaken in the identity of the car shortlyappeared. The man took out a cigar and standing on the corner oppositethe Town Hall, lighted it. I was close to him at the time, and by thelight of the match, which he sheltered with his hands, I saw thescarred and bearded face! _Triomphe!_ it was he!

Having lighted his cigar, he crossed the road and entered the saloonof a neighbourhood public-house. Locking my cab I, also, entered thatsaloon. I ordered a glass of bitter beer and glanced around at theobject of my interest. He had obtained a glass of brandy and wascontorting his hideous face as he sipped the beverage. I laughed. 

"Have they tried to poison you, mister!" I said. 

"Ah, _pardieu!_ poison--yes!" he replied. 

"You want to have it out of a bottle, " I continued confidentially--"Martell's Three Stars. "

He stared at me uncomprehendingly. 

"I don't know, " he said haltingly. "I have very little English. "

"Oh, that's it!" I cried, speaking French with a barbarous accent. "You only speak French?"

"Yes, yes, " he replied eagerly. "It is so difficult to make oneselfunderstood. This spirit is not cognac, it is some kind of petrol!"

Finishing my bitter, I ordered two glasses of good brandy and placedone before "Le Balafre. "

"Try that, " I said, continuing to speak in French, "You will find itis better. "

He sipped from his glass and agreed that I was right. We chattedtogether for ten minutes and had another drink, after which mydangerous-looking acquaintance wished me good-night and went out. Thecar had come from the West, and I strongly suspected that my man eitherlived in the neighbourhood or had come there to keep an appointment. Leaving my cab outside the public-house, I followed him on foot, downThree Colt Street to Ropemaker Street, where he turned into a narrowalley leading to the riverside. It was straight and deserted, and Idared not follow further until he had reached the corner. I heard hisfootsteps pass right to the end. Then the sound died away. I ran tothe corner. The back of a wharf building--a high blank wall--faced arow of ramshackle tenements, some of them built of wood; but not asoul was in sight. 

I reluctantly returned to the spot at which I had left the cab--andfound a constable there who wanted to know what I meant by leaving avehicle in the street unattended. I managed to enlist his sympathy bytelling him that I had been in pursuit of a "fare" who had swindled mewith a bad half-crown. The ruse succeeded. 

"Which street did he go down, mate?" asked the constable. 

I described the street and described the scarred man. The constableshook his head. 

"Sounds like one o' them foreign sailormen, " he said. "But I don'tknow what he can have gone down there for. It's nearly all Chinese, that part. "

His words came as a revelation; they changed the whole complexion ofthe case. It dawned upon me even as he spoke the word "Chinese" thatthe golden scorpion which I had seen in the Paris cafe was of Chineseworkmanship! I started my engine and drove slowly to that street inwhich I had lost the track of "Le Balafre. " I turned the cab so thatI should be ready to drive off at a moment's notice, and sat therewondering what my next move should be. How long I had been there Icannot say, when suddenly it began to rain in torrents. 

What I might have done or what I had hoped to do is of no importance;for as I sat there staring out at the dismal rain-swept street, a mancame along, saw the head-lamps of the cab and stopped, peering in mydirection. Evidently perceiving that I drove a cab and not a privatecar, he came towards me. 

"Are you disengaged?" he asked. 

Whether it was that I sympathized with him--he had no topcoat orumbrella--or whether I was guided by Fate I know not, but as he spokeI determined to give up my dreary vigil for that night. _Pardieu!_ butcertainly it was Fate again!

"Well, I suppose I am, sir, " I said, and asked him where he wantedto go. 

He gave an address not five hundred yards from my own rooms! I thoughtthis so curious that I hesitated no longer. 

"Jump in, " I said; and still seeking in my mind for a link between thescorpion case and China, I drove off, and in less than half an hour, for the streets were nearly empty, arrived at my destination. 

The passenger, whose name was Dr. Keppel Stuart, very kindly suggesteda glass of hot grog, and I did not refuse his proferred hospitality. When I came out of his house again, the rain had almost ceased, andjust as I stooped to crank the car I thought I saw a shadowy figuremoving near the end of a lane which led to the tradesmen's entrance ofDr. Stuart's house. A sudden suspicion laid hold upon me--a horribledoubt. 

Having driven some twenty yards along the road, I leaned from my seatand looked back. A big man wearing a black waterproof overall wasstanding looking after me!

Remembering how cleverly I had been trailed from Miguel's cafe to myflat, in Paris (for I no longer doubted that someone had followed meon that occasion), I now perceived that I might again be the object ofthe same expert's attention. Stopping my engine half-way along thenext road, I jumped out and ran back, hiding in the bushes which grewbeside the gate of a large empty house. I had only a few seconds towait. 

A big closed car, running almost silently, passed before me ... And"Le Balafre" was leaning out of the window!

At last I saw my chance of finding the headquarters of "The Scorpion. "Alas! The man of the scar was as swift to recognize that possibilityas I. A moment after he had passed my stationary cab, and found it tobe deserted, his big car was off like the wind, and even before Icould step out from the bushes the roar of the powerful engine wasgrowing dim in the distance!

I was detected. I had to deal with dangerously clever people. 

CHAPTER II

BAITING THE TRAP

The following morning I spent at home, in my modest rooms, reviewingmy position and endeavouring to adjust my plans in accordance with thelatest development. "The Scorpion" had scored a point. What had arousedthe suspicions "Le Balafre, " I knew not; but I was inclined to thinkthat he had been looking from some window or peep-hole in the narrowstreet with the wooden houses when I had, injudiciously, followed himthere. 

On the other hand, the leakage might be in Paris--or in mycorrespondence system. The man of the scar might have been looking forme as I was looking for him. That he was looking for someone on thecross-channel boat I had not doubted. 

He was aware, then that Charles Malet, cabman, was watching him. Butwas he aware that Charles Malet was Gaston Max? And did he know whereI lived? Also--did he perchance think that my meeting with Dr. Stuartin Limehouse had been prearranged? Clearly he had seen Dr. Stuartenter my cab, for he had pursued us to Battersea. 

This course of reflection presently led me to a plan. It was adangerous plan, but I doubted if I should ever find myself in greaterdanger than I was already. _Nom d'un nom!_ I had not forgotten thepoor Jean Sach!

That night, well knowing that I carried my life in my hands, I droveagain to Limehouse Town Hall, and again leaving my cab outside wentinto the bar where I had preciously me "Le Balafre. " If I had doubtedthat my movements were watched I must now have had such doubtsdispelled; for two minutes later the man with the scar came in andgreeted me affably!

I had learned something else. He did not know that I had recognizedhim as the person who had tracked me to Dr. Stuart's house!

He invited me to drink with him, and I did so. As we raised ourglasses I made a move. Looking all about me suspiciously:

"Am I right in supposing that you have business in this part ofLondon?" I asked. 

"Yes, " he replied "My affairs bring me here sometimes. "

"You are well acquainted with the neighbourhood?"

"Fairly well. But actually of course I am a stranger to London. "

I tapped him confidentially upon the breast. 

"Take my advice, as a friend, " I said, "and visit these parts asrarely as possible. "

"Why do you say that?"

"It is dangerous. From the friendly manner in which you entered intoconversation with me, I perceived that you were of a genial andunsuspicious nature. Very well. I warn you. Last night I was followedfrom a certain street not far from here to the house of a medical manwho is a specialist in certain kinds of criminology, you understand. "

He stared at me very hard, his teeth bared by that fearful snarl. "Youare a strange cabman. "

"Perhaps I am. No matter. Take my advice. I have things writtenhere"--I tapped the breast of my tunic--"which will astonish all theworld shortly. I tell you, my friend, my fortune is made. "

I finished my drink and ordered another for myself and one for myacquaintance. He was watching me doubtfully. Taking up my replenishedglass, I emptied it at a draught and ordered a third. I leaned overtowards the scarred man, resting my hand heavily upon his shoulder. 

"Five thousand pounds, " I whispered thickly, "has been offered for theinformation which I have here in my pocket. It is not yet complete, you understand, and because they may murder me before I obtain therest of the facts, do you know what I am going to do with this?"

Again I tapped my tunic pocket. "Le Balafre" frowned perplexedly. 

"I don't even know what you are talking about, my friend, " he replied. 

"_I_ know what I am talking about, " I assured him, speaking more andmore huskily. "Listen, then: I am going to take all my notes to myfriend, the doctor, and leave them with him, sealed--sealed, youfollow me? If I do not come back for them, In a week, shall we say?--hesends them to the police. _I_ do not profit, you think? No. _morbleu!_but there are some who hang!"

Emptying my third glass, I ordered a fourth and one for my companion. He checked me. 

"No more for me, thank you, " he said. "I have--business to attend to. I will wish you good-night. "

"Good-night!" I cried boisterously--"good-night, friend! take heed ofmy good advice!"

As he went out, the barman brought me my fourth glass of cognac, staringat me doubtfully. Our conversation had been conducted in French, butthe tone of my voice had attracted attention. 

"Had about enough, ain't you, mate?" he said. "Your ugly pal jibbed!"

"Quite enough!" I replied, in English now of course. "But I've had astroke of luck to-night and I feel happy. Have one with me. This is afinal. "

On going out into the street I looked cautiously about me, for I didnot expect to reach the house of Dr. Stuart unmolested. I credited"Le Balafre" with sufficient acumen to distrust the genuineness ofmy intoxication, even if he was unaware of my real identity. I nevermake the mistake of underestimating an opponent's wit, and whilstacting on the assumption that the scarred man knew me to be forcinghis hand, I recognized that whether he believed me to be drunk orsober, Gaston Mas or another, his line of conduct must be the same. He must take it for granted that I actually designed to lodge my noteswith Dr. Stuart and endeavour to prevent me doing so. 

I could detect no evidence of surveillance whatever and cranking theengine I mounted and drove off. More than once, as I passed alongCommercial Road, I stopped and looked back. But so far as I couldmake out no one was following me. The greater part of my route layalong populous thoroughfares, and of this I was not sorry; but I didnot relish the prospect of Thames Street, along which presently mycourse led me. 

Leaving the city behind me, I turned into that thoroughfare, which atnight is almost quite deserted, and there I pulled up. _Pardieu!_ Iwas disappointed! It seemed as though my scheme had miscarried. Itcould not understand why I had been permitted to go unmolested, and Iintended to walk back to the corner for a final survey beforecontinuing my journey. This survey was never made. 

As I stopped the cab and prepared to descend, a faint--a very faint--sound almost in my ear, set me keenly on the alert. Just in the nickof time I ducked ... As the blade of a long knife flashed past myhead, ripping its way through my cloth cap!

Yes! That movement had saved my life, for otherwise the knife musthave entered my shoulder--and pierced to my heart!

Someone was hidden in the cab!

He had quietly opened one of the front windows and had awaited asuitable opportunity to stab me. Now, recognizing failure, he leaptout on the near side as I lurched and stumbled from my seat, and ranoff like the wind. I never so much as glimpsed him. 

"_Mon Dieu!_" I muttered, raising my hand to my head, from which bloodwas trickling down my face, "the plan succeeds!"

I bound a handkerchief as tightly as possible around the wound in myscalp and put my cap on to keep the bandage in place. The wound wasonly a superficial one, and except for the bleeding I suffered noinconvenience from it. But I had now a legitimate reason for visitingDr. Stuart, and as I drove on towards Battersea I was modifying myoriginal plan in accordance with the unforeseen conditions. 

It was long past Dr. Stuart's hours of consultation when I arrived athis house, and the servant showed me into a waiting-room, informing methat the doctor would join me in a few minutes. Directly she had goneout I took from the pocket of my tunic the sealed envelope which I hadintended to lodge with the doctor. Pah! it was stained with bloodwhich had trickled down from the wound in my scalp!

Actually, you will say, there was no reason why I should place aletter in the hand of Dr. Stuart; my purpose would equally well beserved by _pretending_ that I had done so. Ah, but I knew that I hadto deal with clever people--with artists in crime--and it behooved meto be an artist also. I had good reason to know that their system ofespionage was efficient; and the slipshod way is ever the wrong way. 

The unpleasantly sticky letter I returned to my pocket, looking aroundme for some means of making up any kind of packet which could do dutyas a substitute. Beyond a certain draped over a recess at one end ofthe waiting-room I saw a row of boxes, a box of lint and other medicalparaphernalia. It was the doctor's dispensary. Perhaps I might findthere an envelope. 

I crossed the room and looked. Immediately around the corner, on alevel with my eyes, was a packet of foolscap envelopes and a stick of black sealing-wax! _Bien!_ all that I now required was a stout sheetof paper to enclose in one of those envelopes. But not a scrap ofpaper could I find, except the blood-stained letter in my pocket--towards which I had formed a strong antipathy. I had not even anewspaper in my possession. I thought of folding three or fourenvelopes, but there were only six in all, and the absence of somany might be noted. 

Drawing aside a baize curtain which hung from the bottom shelf, Idiscovered a number of old card-board boxes. It was sufficient. Witha pair of surgical scissors I cut a piece from the lid of one andthrust it into an envelope, gumming down the lapel. At a little gasjet intended for the purpose I closed both ends with wax and--singular coincidence!--finding a Chinese coin fastened to a corklying on the shelf, my sense of humour prompted me to use it as aseal! Finally, to add to the verisimilitude of the affair I borroweda pen which rested in a bottle of red ink and wrote upon theenvelope the number: 30, that day being the thirtieth day of themonth. 

It was well that the artist within me had dictated this carefulelaboration, as became evident a few minutes later when the doctorappeared at the head of a short flight of stairs and requested me tostep up to his consulting-room. It was a small room, so that thewindow, over which a linen blind was drawn, occupied nearly the wholeof one wall. As Dr. Stuart, having examined the cut on my scalp, descended to the dispensary for lint, the habits of a lifetime assertedthemselves. 

I quickly switched off the light and peeped out of the window aroundthe edge of the blind, which I drew slightly aside. In the shadow ofthe wall upon the opposite side of the narrow lane a man was standing!I turned on the light again. The watcher should not be disappointed!

My skull being dressed, I broached the subject of the letter, which Isaid I had found in my cab after the accident which had caused theinjury. 

"Someone left this behind to-day, sir, " I said; "perhaps the gentlemanwho was with me when I had the accident; and I've got no means oftracing him. He may be able to trace _me_, though, or he may advertise. It evidently contains something valuable. I wonder if you would do mea small favour? Would you mind taking charge of it for a week or so, until it is claimed?"

He asked me why I did not take it to Scotland Yard. 

"Because, " said I, "if the owner claims it from Scotland Yard he isless likely to be generous than if he gets it direct from me!"

"But what is the point, " asked Dr. Stuart, "in leaving it here?"

I explained that if _I_ kept the letter I might be suspected of anintention of stealing it, whereas directly there was any inquiry, hecould certify that I had left it in his charge. He seemed to besatisfied and asked me to come into his study for a moment. The manin the lane was probably satisfied, too. I had stood three paces fromthe table-lamp all the time, waving the letter about as I talked, andcasting a bold shadow on the linen blind!

The first thing that struck me as I entered the doctor's study wasthat the French windows, which opened on a sheltered lawn, were open. I acted accordingly. 

"You see, " said Dr. Stuart, "I am enclosing your letter in this bigenvelope which I am sealing. "

"Yes, sir, " I replied, standing at some distance from him, so that hehad to speak loudly. "And would you mind addressing it to the LostProperty Office. "

"Not at all, " said he, and did as I suggested. "If not reclaimedwithin a reasonable time, it will be sent to Scotland Yard. "

I edged nearer to the open window. 

"If it is not reclaimed, " I said loudly, "it goes to Scotland Yard--yes. "

"Meanwhile, " concluded the doctor, "I am locking it in this privatedrawer in my bureau. "

"It is locked in your bureau. Very good. "

CHAPTER III

DISAPPEARANCE OF CHARLES MALET

Knowing, and I knew it well, that people of "The Scorpion" werewatching, I do not pretend that I felt at my ease as I drove around tothe empty house in which I garaged my cab. My inquiry had entered uponanother stage, and Charles Malet was about to disappear from the case. I was well aware that if he failed in his vigilance for a single momenthe might well disappear from the world!

The path which led to the stables was overgrown with weeds and flankedby ragged bushes; weeds and grass sprouted between the stones pavingthe little yard, also, although they were withered to a great extentby the petrol recently spilled there. Having run the cab into the yard, I alighted and looked around the deserted grounds, mysterious in themoonlight. Company would have been welcome, but excepting a constablewho had stopped and chatted with me on one or two evenings I alwayshad the stables to myself at night. 

I determined to run the cab into the stable and lock it up withoutdelay, for it was palpably dangerous in the circumstances to remainlonger than necessary in that lonely spot. Hurriedly I began to putout the lamps. I unlocked the stable doors and stood looking all aboutme again. I was dreading the ordeal of driving the cab those last tenyards into the garage, for whilst I had my back to the wilderness ofbushes it would be an easy matter for anyone in hiding there to comeup behind me. 

Nevertheless, it had to be done. Seating myself at the wheel I droveinto the narrow building, stopped the engine and peered cautiouslyaround toward the bright square formed by the open doors. Nothing wasto be seen. No shadow moved. 

A magazine pistol held in my hand, I crept, step by step, along thewall until I stood just within the opening. There I stopped. 

I could hear a sound of quick breathing! There was someone waitingoutside!

Dropping quietly down upon the pavement, I slowly protruded my headaround the angle of the brick wall at a point not four inches abovethe ground. I knew that whoever waited would have his eyes fixed uponthe doorway at the level of a man's head. 

Close to the wall, a pistol in his left hand and an upraisedstand-bag in his right, stood "Le Balafre!" His eyes gleamed savagelyin the light of the moon and his teeth were bared in that fearfulanimal snarl. But he had not seen me. 

Inch by inch I thrust my pistol forward, the barrel raised sharply. Icould not be sure of my aim, of course, nor had I time to judge itcarefully. 

I fired. 

The bullet was meant for his right wrist, but it struck him in thefleshy part of his arm. Uttering a ferocious cry he leapt back, dropped his pistol--and perceiving me as I sprang to my feet, lashedat my head with the sand-bag. I raised my left arm to guard my skulland sustained the full force of the blow upon it. 

I staggered back against the wall, and my own pistol was knocked frommy grasp. My left arm was temporarily useless and the man of the scarwas deprived of the use of his right. _Pardieu!_ I had the betterchance!

He hurled himself upon me. 

Instantly he recovered the advantage, for he grasped me by the throatwith his left hand--and, _nom d'un nom!_ what a grip he had! Flatagainst the wall he held me, and began, his teeth bared in thatfearful grin, to crush the life from me. 

To such an attack there was only one counter. I kicked him savagely--and that death-grip relaxed. I writhed, twisted--and was free! As Iregained my freedom I struck up at him, and by great good fortunecaught him upon the point of the jaw. He staggered. I struck him overthe heart, and he fell I pounced upon him, exulting, for he had soughtmy life and I knew no pity. 

Yet I had not thought so strong a man would choke so easily, and forsome moments I stood looking down at him, believing that he sought totrick me. But it was not so. His affair was finished. 

I listened. The situation in which I found myself was full ofdifficulty. An owl screeched somewhere in the trees, but nothing elsestirred. The sound of the shot had not attracted attention, apparently. I stooped and examined the garments of the man who lay at my feet. 

He carried a travel coupon to Paris bearing that day's date, togetherwith some other papers, but, although I searched all his pockets, Icould find nothing of real interest, until in an inside pocket of hiscoat I felt some hard, irregularly shaped object. I withdrew it, andin the moonlight it lay glittering in my palm ... A _golden scorpion!_

It had apparently been broken in the struggle. The tail was missing, nor could I find it: but I must confess that I did not prolong thesearch. 

Some chance effect produced by the shadow of the moonlight, and thepresence of that recently purchased ticket, gave me the idea uponwhich without delay I proceeded to act. Satisfying myself that therewas no mark upon any of his garments by which the man could beidentified, I unlocked from my wrist an identification disk which Ihabitually wore there, and locked it upon the wrist of the man withthe scar!

Clearly, I argued, he had been detailed to dispatch me and then toleave at once for France. I would make it appear that he had succeeded. 

Behold me, ten minutes later, driving slowly along a part of theThames Embankment which I chanced to remember, a gruesome passengerriding behind me in the cab. I was reflecting as I kept a sharp look-outfor a spot which I had noted one day during my travels, how easily onecould commit murder in London, when a constable ran out andintercepted me!

_Mon Deiu!_ how my heart leapt!

"I'll trouble you for your name and number, my lad, " he said. 

"What for?" I asked, and remembering a rare fragment of idiom: "What'sup with you?" I added. 

"Your lamp's out!" he cried, "that's what's up with me!"

"Oh, " said I, climbing from my seat--"very well. I'm sorry. I didn'tknow. But here is my license. "

I handed him the little booklet and began to light my lamps, cursingmyself for a dreadful artist because I had forgotten to do so. 

"All right, " he replied, and handed it back to me. "But how the devilyou've managed to get _all_ your lamps out, I can't imagine!"

"This is my first job since dusk, " I explained hurrying around to thetail-light. "And _he_ don't say much!" remarked the constable. 

I replaced my matches in my pocket and returned to the front of thecab, making a gesture as of one raising a glass to his lips andjerking my thumb across my shoulder in the direction of my unseen fare. 

"Oh, that's it!" said the constable, and moved off. 

Never in my whole career have I been so glad to see the back of anyman!

I drove on slowly. The point for which I was making was only somethree hundred yards further along, but I had noted that the constablehad walked off in the opposite direction. Therefore, arriving at mydestination--a vacant wharf open to the road--I pulled up and listened. 

Only the wash of the tide upon the piles of the wharf was audible, forthe night was now far advanced. 

I opened the door of the cab and dragged out "Le Balafre. " Right andleft I peered, truly like a stage villain, and then hauled myunpleasant burden along the irregularly paved path and on to thelittle wharf. Out in mid-stream a Thames Police patrol was passing, and I stood for a moment until the creak of the oars grew dim. 

Then: there was a dull splash far below ... And silence again. 

Gaston Max had been consigned to a watery grave!

Returning again to the garage, I wondered very much who he had been, this one, "Le Balafre. " Could it be that he was "The Scorpion"? Icould not tell, but I had hopes very shortly of finding out. I hadsettled up my affairs with my landlady and had removed from myapartments all papers and other effects. In the garage I had placeda good suit of clothes and other necessities, and by telephone I hadsecured a room at a West-End hotel. 

The cab returned to the stable, I locked the door, and by the lightof one of the lamps, shaved off my beard and moustache. My uniformand cap I hung up on the hook where I usually left them after workinghours, and changed into the suit which I had placed there in readiness. I next destroyed all evidences of identity and left the place in aneat condition. I extinguished the lamp, went out and locked the doorbehind me, and carrying a travelling-grip and a cane I set off for mynew hotel. 

Charles Malet had disappeared!

CHAPTER IV

I MEET AN OLD ACQUAINTANCE

On the corner opposite Dr. Stuart's establishment stood a house whichwas "to be let or sold. " From the estate-agent whose name appearedupon the notice-board I obtained the keys--and had a duplicate made ofthat which opened the front door. It was a simple matter, and thelocksmith returned both keys to me within an hour. I informed theagent that the house would not suit me. 

Nevertheless, having bolted the door, in order that prospectivepurchasers might not surprise me, I "camped out" in an upper room allday, watching from behind the screen of trees all who came to the houseof Dr. Stuart. Dusk found me still at my post, armed with a pair ofgood binoculars. Every patient who presented himself I scrutinizedcarefully, and finding as the darkness grew that it became increasinglydifficult to discern the features of visitors, I descended to the frontgarden and resumed my watch from the lower branches of a tree whichstood some twenty feet from the roadway. 

At selected intervals I crept from my post and surveyed the lane uponwhich the window of the consulting-room opened and also the pathleading to the tradesmen's entrance, from which one might look acrossthe lawn and in at the open study windows. It was during one of thesetours of inspection and whilst I was actually peering through a gap inthe hedge, that I heard the telephone bell. Dr. Stuart was in thestudy and I heard him speaking. 

I gathered that his services were required immediately at someinstitution in the neighbourhood. I saw him take his hat, stick andbag from the sofa and go out of the room. Then I returned to the frontgarden of my vacant house. 

No one appeared for some time. A policeman walked slowly up the road, and flashed his lantern in at the gate of the house I had commandeered. His footsteps died away. Then, faintly, I heard the hum of a powerfulmotor. I held my breath. The approaching car turned into the road ata point above me to the right, came nearer ... And stopped before Dr. Stuart's door. 

I focussed my binoculars upon the chauffeur. 

It was the brown-skinned man! _Nom d'un nom!_ a _woman_ was descendingform the car. She was enveloped in furs and I could not see her face. She walked up the steps to the door and was admitted. 

The chauffeur backed the car into the lane beside the house. 

My heart beating rapidly with excitement, I crept out by the furthergate of the drive, crossed the road at a point fifty yards above thehouse and walking very quietly came back to the tradesmen's entrance. Into its enveloping darkness I glided and on until I could peep acrossthe lawn. 

The elegant visitor, as I hoped, had been shown, not into the ordinarywaiting-room but into the doctor's study. She was seated with her backto the window, talking to a grey-haired old lady--probably thedoctor's housekeeper. Impatiently I waited for this old lady to depart, and the moment that she did so, the visitor stood up, turned and ... It was _Zara el-Khala!_

It was only with difficulty that I restrained the cry of triumph whicharose to my lips. On the instant that the study door closed, Zarael-Khala began to try a number of keys which she took from her handbagupon the various drawers of the bureau!

"So!" I said--"they are uncertain of the drawer!"

Suddenly she desisted, looking nervously at the open windows; then, crossing the room, she drew the curtains. I crept out into the roadagain and by the same roundabout route came back to the empty house. Feeling my way in the darkness of the shrubbery, I found the motorbicycle which I had hidden there and I wheeled it down to the furthergate of the drive and waited. 

I could see the doctor's door, and I saw him returning along the road. As he appeared, from somewhere---I could not determine from where--camea strange and uncanny wailing sound, a sound that chilled me like anevil omen. 

Even as it died away, and before Dr. Stuart had reached his door Iknew what it portended--that horrible wail. Some one hidden I knew notwhere, had warned Zara el-Khala that the doctor returned! But stay!Perhaps that some one was the dark-skinned chauffeur!

How I congratulated myself upon the precautions which I had taken toescape observation. Evidently the watcher had placed himself somewherewhere he could command a view of the front door and the road. 

Five minutes later the girl came out, the old housekeeper accompanyingher to the door, the car emerged from the lane, Zara el-Khalaentered it and was driven away. I could see no one seated beside thechauffeur. I started my "Indian" and leapt in pursuit. 

As I had anticipated, the route was Eastward, and I found myselftraversing familiar ground. From the south-west to the east of Londonwhirled the big car of mystery--and I was ever close behind it. Sometimes, in the crowded streets, I lost sight of my quarry for atime, but always I caught up again, and at last I found myself whirlingalong Commercial Road and not fifty yards behind the car. 

Just by the canal bridge a drunken sailor lurched out in front of mywheel, and only by twisting perilously right into a turning called, Ibelieve, Salmon Lane, did I avoid running him down. 

_Sacre nom!_ how I cursed him! The lane was too narrow for me to turnand I was compelled to dismount and to wheel my "Indian" back to thehighroad. The yellow car had vanished, of course, but I took it forgranted that it had followed the main road. At a dangerous speed, pursued by execrations from the sailor and all his friends, I set offeast once more turning to the right down West India Dock Road. 

Arriving at the dock, and seeing nothing ahead of me but desolationand ships' masts, I knew that that inebriated pig had spoiledeverything! I could have sat down upon the dirty pavement and wept, so mortified was I! For if Zara el-Khala had secured the envelope Ihad missed my only chance. 

However, _pardieu!_ I have said that despair is not permitted by theBureau. I rode home to my hotel, deep in reflection. Whether the girlhad the envelope or not, at least she had escaped detection by thedoctor; therefore if she had failed she would try again. I could sleepin peace until the morrow. 

Of the following day, which I spent as I had spent the preceding one, I have nothing to record. At about the same time in the evening theyellow car again rolled into view, and on this occasion I devoted allmy attention to the dark-skinned chauffeur, upon whom I directed myglasses. 

As the girl alighted and spoke to him for a moment, he raised thegoggles which habitually he wore and I saw his face. A theory which Ihad formed on the previous night proved correct. The chauffeur was theHindu, Chunda Lal! As Zara el-Khala walked up the steps he backedthe car into the narrow lane and I watched him constantly. Yet, watchas closely as I might, I could not see where he concealed himself inorder to command a view of the road. 

On this occasion, as I know, Dr. Stuart was at home. Nevertheless, thegirl stayed for close upon half an hour, and I began to wonder if somenew move had been planned. Suddenly the door opened and she came out. 

I crept through the bushes to my bicycle and wheeled it on to thedrive. I saw the car start; but Madame Fortune being in playful mood, my own engine refused to start at all, and when ten minutes later Iat last aroused a spark of life in the torpid machine I knew thatpursuit would be futile. 

Since this record is intended for the guidance of those who take upthe quest of "The Scorpion" either in co-operation with myself or, in the event of my failure, alone, it would be profitless for me torecord my disasters. Very well, I had one success. One night I pursuedthe yellow car from Dr. Stuart's house to the end of LimehouseCauseway without once losing sight of it. 

A string of lorries form the docks, drawn by a traction engine, checkedme at the corner for a time, although the yellow car passed. But Iraced furiously on and by great good luck overtook it near the DockStation. From thence onward pursuing a strangely tortuous route, Ikept it in sight to Canning Town, when it turned into a public garage. I followed--to purchase petrol. 

Chunda Lal was talking to the man in charge; he had not yet left hisseat. But the car was empty!

At first I was stupid with astonishment. _Par la barbe du prophete!_ Iwas astounded. Then I saw that I had really made a great discovery. The street into which I had injudiciously followed "Le Balafre" laybetween Limehouse Causeway and Ropemaker Street, and it was at no greatdistance from this point that I had lost sight of the yellow car. Inthat street, which according to my friend the policeman was "nearlyall Chinese, " Zara el-Khala had descended; in that street was "TheScorpion's" lair!

CHAPTER V

CONCLUSION OF STATEMENT

I come now to the conclusion of this statement and to the strangeoccurrence which led to my proclaiming myself. The fear of imminentassassination which first had prompted me to record what I knew of"The Scorpion" had left me since I had ceased to be Charles Malet. Andthat the disappearance of "Le Balafre" had been accepted by hisunknown chief as evidence of his success in removing _me_, I did notdoubt. Therefore I breathed more freely ... And more freely still whenmy body was recovered!

Yes, my body was recovered from Hanover Hole; I read of it--a veryshort paragraph, but it is the short paragraphs that matter--in mymorning paper. I knew then that I should very shortly be dead indeed--officially dead. I had counted on this happening before, youunderstand, for I more than ever suspected that "The Scorpion" knew meto be in England and I feared that he would "lie low" as the Englishsay. However, since a fortunate thing happens better late than never, I say in this paragraph two things: (1) that the enemy would cease tocount upon Gaston Max; (2) that the Scotland Yard Commissioner wouldbe authorised to open Part First of this Statement which had beenlodged at his office two days after I landed in England--the portiondealing with my inquiries in Paris and with my tracking of "LeBalafre" to Bow Road Station and observing that he showed a goldenscorpion to the chauffeur of the yellow car. 

This would happen because Paris would wire that the identificationdisk found on the dead man was that of Gaston Max. Why would Paris doso? Because my reports had been discounted since I had ceased to beCharles Malet and Paris would be seeking evidence of my whereabouts. My reports had discontinued because I had learned that I had to dowith a criminal organization of whose ramifications I knew nothing. Therefore I took no more chances. I died. 

I return to the night when Inspector Dunbar, the grim Dunbar ofScotland Yard, came to Dr. Stuart's house. His appearance therepuzzled me. I could not fail to recognize him, for as dusk had fullycome I had descended from my top window and was posted among thebushes of the empty house from whence I commanded a perfect view ofthe doctor's door. The night was unusually chilly--there had been somerain--and when I crept around to the lane bordering the lawn, hopingto see or hear something of what was taking place in the study, Ifound that the windows were closed and the blinds drawn. 

Luck seemed to have turned against me; for that night, at dusk, when Ihad gone to a local garage where I kept my motor bicycle, I haddiscovered the back tire to be perfectly flat and had been forced tocontain my soul in patience whilst the man repaired a serious puncture. The result was of course that for more than half an hour I had not hadDr. Stuart's house under observation. And a hundred and one thingscan happen in half an hour. 

Had Dr. Stuart sent for the Inspector? If so, I feared that theenvelope was missing, or at any rate that he had detected Zarael-Khala in the act of stealing it and had determined to place thematter in the hands of the police. It was a maddening reflection. Again--I shrewdly suspected that I was not the only watcher of Dr. Stuart's house. The frequency with which the big yellow car drew upat the door a few moments after the doctor had gone out could not bedue to accident. Yet I had been unable to detect the presence of thisother watcher, nor had I any idea of the spot where the car remainedhidden--if my theory was a correct one. Nevertheless I did not expectto see it come along whilst the Inspector remained at the house--always supposing that Zara el-Khala had not yet succeeded. Iwheeled out the "Indian" and rode to a certain tobacconist's shop atwhich I had sometimes purchased cigarettes. 

He had a telephone in a room at the rear which customers were allowedto use on payment of a fee, and a public call-box would not serve mypurpose, since the operator usually announces to a subscriber the factthat a call emanated from such an office. The shop was closed, but Irang the bell at the side door and obtained permission to use thetelephone upon pleading urgency. I had assiduously cultivated a naturalgift for mimicry, having found it of inestimable service in thepractice of my profession. It served me now. I had worked in the pastwith Inspector Dunbar and his subordinate Sergeant Sowerby, and Idetermined to trust to my memory of the latter's mode of speech. 

I rang up Dr. Stuart and asked for the Inspector, saying SergeantSowerby spoke from Scotland Yard. "Hullo!" he cried, "is that you, Sowerby?"

"Yes, " I replied in Sowerby's voice. "I thought I should find youthere. About the body of Max.. "

"Eh!" said Dunbar--"what's that? Max?"

I knew immediately that Paris had not yet wired, therefore I told himthat Paris _had_ done so, and that the disk numbered 49685 was that ofGaston Max. He was inexpressibly shocked, deploring the rashness ofMax in working alone. 

"Come to Scotland Yard, " I said, anxious to get him away from the house. 

He said he would be with me in a few minutes, and I was racking mybrains for some means of learning what business had taken him to Dr. Stuart when he gave me the desired information spontaneously. 

"Sowerby, listen, " said he: "It's 'The Scorpion' case right enough!That bit of gold found on the dead man is not a cactus stem; it's ascorpion's tail!"

So! they had found what I had failed to find! It must have beenattached, I concluded, to some inner part of "Le Balafre's" clothing. There had been no mention of Zara el-Khala; therefore, as I rodeback to my post I permitted myself to assume that she would comeagain, since presumably she had thus far failed. I was right. 

_Morbleu!_ quick as I was the car was there before me! But I had notoverlooked this possibility and I had dismounted at a good distancefrom the house and had left the "Indian" in someone's front garden. As I had turned out of the main road I had seen Dr. Stuart andInspector Dunbar approaching a rank upon which two or three cabsusually stood. 

I watched _la Bell_ Zara enter the house, a beautiful woman mostelegantly attired, and then, even before Chunda Lal had backed thecar into the lane I was off ... To the spot at which I had abandonedmy motor bicycle. In little more than half an hour I had traversedLondon, and was standing in the shadow of that high, blank wall towhich I have referred as facing a row of wooden houses in a certainstreet adjoining Limehouse Causeway. 

You perceive my plan? I was practically sure of the street; all I hadto learn was which house sheltered "The Scorpion"!

I had already suspected that this night was to be for me an unluckynight. _Nom d'un p'tit bon-homme!_ it was so. Until an hour before dawnI crouched under that wall and saw no living thing except a very oldChinaman who came out of one of the houses and walked slowly away. The other houses appeared to be empty. No vehicle of any kind passedthat way all night. 

Turning over in my mind the details of this most perplexing case, itbecame evident to me that the advantages of working alone were nowoutweighed by the disadvantages. The affair had reached a stage atwhich ordinary police methods should be put into operation. I hadcollected some of the threads; the next thing was for Scotland Yardto weave these together whilst I sought for more. 

I determined to remain dead. It would afford me greater freedom ofaction. The disappearance of "Le Balafre" which must by this time havebeen noted by his associates, might possibly lead to a suspicion that thedead man was _not_ Gaston Max; but providing no member of "The Scorpion"group obtained access to the body I failed to see how this suspicioncould be confirmed. I reviewed my position. 

The sealed letter had achieved its purpose in part. Although I hadfailed to locate the house from which these people operated, I could drawa circle on the map within which I knew it to be; and I had learned thatZara el-Khala and the Hindu were in London. What it all meant--to whatend "The Scorpion" was working I did not know. But having learned somuch, be sure I did not despair of learning more. 

It was now imperative that I should find out exactly what had occurredat Dr. Stuart's house. Accordingly I determined to call upon theInspector at Scotland Yard. I presented myself towards evening of theday following my vigil in Limehouse, sending up the card of a Bureauconfrere, for I did not intend to let it be generally known that I wasalive. 

Presently I was shown up to that bare and shining room which Iremembered having visited in the past. I stood just within the doorway, smiling. Inspector Dunbar rose, as the constable went out, and stoodlooking across at me. 

I had counted on striking him dumb with astonishment. He was Scottishlyunmoved. 

"Well, " he said, coming forward with outstretched hand, "I'm glad tosee you. I knew you would have come to us sooner or later!"

I felt that my eyes sparkled. There was no resentment within my heart. I rejoiced. 

"Look, " he continued, taking a slip of paper from his note-book. "Thisis a copy of a note I left with Dr. Stuart some time ago. Read it. "

I did so, and this is what I read:

"_A:_ the name of the man who cut out the lid of the cardboard box andsealed it in the envelope--Gaston Max!

"_B:_ the name of the missing cabman--Gaston Max!

"_C:_ the name of the man who rang me up at Dr. Stuart's and told methat Gaston Max was dead--Gaston Max!"

I returned the slip to Inspector Dunbar. I bowed. 

"It is a pleasure and a privilege to work with you, Inspector, " Isaid .... 

This statement is nearly concluded. The whole of the evening I spentin the room of the Assistant Commissioner discussing the mattersherein set forth and comparing notes with Inspector Dunbar. Oneimportant thing I learned: that I had abandoned my nightly watchestoo early. For one morning just before dawn someone who was _not_Zara had paid a visit to the house of Dr. Stuart! I determined tocall upon the doctor. 

As it chanced I was delayed and did not actually arrive until so latean hour that I had almost decided not to present myself ... When a bigyellow car flashed past the taxicab in which I was driving!

_Nom d'un nom!_ I could not mistake it! This was within a few hundredyards of the house of Dr. Stuart, you understand, and I instantlydismissed my cabman and proceeded to advance cautiously on foot. Icould no longer hear the engine of the car which had passed ahead ofme, but then I knew that it could run almost noiselessly. As I creptalong in that friendly shadow cast by a high hedge which had servedme so well before, I saw the yellow car. It was standing on theopposite side of the road. I reached the tradesman's entrance. 

From my left, in the direction of the back lawn of the house, came asudden singular crackling noise and I discerned a flash of blue flameresembling faint "summer lightning. " A series of muffled explosionsfollowed ... And in the darkness I tripped over something which layalong the ground at my feet--a length of cable it seemed to be. 

Stumbling, I uttered a slight exclamation ... And instantly receiveda blow on the head that knocked me flat upon the ground! Everythingwas swimming around me, but I realized that someone--Chunda Lalprobably--had been hiding in the very passage which I had entered!I heard again that uncanny wailing, close beside me. 

Vaguely I discerned an incredible figure--like that of a tall cowledmonk, towering over me. I struggled to retain consciousness--there wasa rush of feet ... The throb of a motor. It stimulated me--that sound!I must get to the telephone and cause the yellow car to be intercepted. 

I staggered to my feet and groped my way along the hedge to where Ihad observed a tree by means of which one might climb over. I wasdizzy as a drunken man; but I half climbed and half fell on to thelawn. The windows were open. I rushed into the study of Dr. Stuart. 

Pah! it was full of fumes. I looked around me. _Mon Dieu!_ I staggered. For I knew that in this fume-laden room a thing more horrible and morestrange than any within my experience had taken place that night. 

Part III

AT THE HOUSE OF AH-FANG-FU

CHAPTER I

THE BRAIN-THIEVES

The Assistant Commissioner lighted a cigarette. "It would appear, then, " he said, "that whilst some minor difficulties have been smoothedaway, we remain face to face with the major problem: who is'The Scorpion' and to what end are his activities directed?"

Gaston Max shrugged his shoulders and smiled at Dr. Stuart. 

"Let us see, " he suggested, "what we really know about this 'Scorpion'. Let us make a brief survey of our position in the matter. Let us takefirst what we have learned of him--if it is a 'him' with whom we haveto deal--from the strange experiences of Dr. Stuart. Without attachingtoo much importance to that episode five years ago on the Wu-MenBridge; perhaps he is not. We will talk about this one again presently. 

"We come to the arrival on the scene of Zara el-Khala, also calledMlle. Dorian. She comes because of what _I_ have told to the scarredman from Paris, she comes to obtain that dangerous information whichis to be sent to Scotland Yard, she comes, in a word, from 'TheScorpion. ' We have two links binding the poor one 'Le Balafre' to'The Scorpion': (1) his intimacy with Miguel and those others withwhom 'Scorpion' communicated by telephone; (2) his possession of thegolden ornament which lies there upon the table and which I tookfrom his pocket. What can we gather from the statement made to Dr. Stuart by Mlle. Dorian? Let us study this point for a moment. 

"In the first place we can only accept her words with a certainskepticism. Her story may be nothing but a fabrication. However, it isinteresting because she claims to be the unwilling servant of adreaded master. She lays stress upon the fact that she is an Orientaland does not enjoy the same freedom as a European woman. This ispossible, up to a point. On the other hand she seems to enjoy notonly freedom but every luxury. Therefore it may equally well be a lie. Some slight colour is lent to her story by the extraordinary mode oflife which she followed in Paris. In the midst of Bohemianism sheremained secluded as an odalisque in some harem garden of Stambul, whether by her own will or by will of another we do not know. Onelittle point her existence seems to strengthen: that we are dealingwith Easterns; for Zara el-Khala is partly of Eastern blood and herfollower Chunda Lal is a Hindu. _Eh bien. _

"Consider the cowled man whose shadow Dr. Stuart has seen on twooccasions: once behind the curtain of his window and once cast by themoonlight across the lawn of his house. The man himself he has neverseen. Now this hooded man cannot have been 'Le Balafre', for'Le Balafre' was already dead at the time of his first appearance. He may be 'The Scorpion'!"

Max paused impressively, looking around at those in the Commissioner'sroom. 

"For a moment I return to the man of the Wu Men Bridge. The man ofthe Wu-Men Bridge was veiled and this one is hooded! The man of theWu-Men Bridge was known as 'The Scorpion, ' and this one also isassociated with a scorpion. We will return yet again to this pointin a moment. 

"Is there something else which we may learn from the experiences ofDr. Stuart? Yes! We learn that 'The Scorpion' suddenly decides thatDr. Stuart is dangerous, either because of his special knowledge(which would be interesting) or because the 'Scorpion' believes thathe has become acquainted with the contents of the sealed envelope--which is not so interesting although equally dangerous for Dr. Stuart. 'The Scorpion' acts. He pays a second visit, again accompanied byChunda Lal, who seems to be a kind of watch-dog who not only guardsthe person of Zara el-Kahla but who also howls when danger threatensthe cowled man!

"And what is the weapon which the cowled man (who may be 'TheScorpion') uses to remove Dr. Stuart? It is a frightful weapon, myfriends; it is a novel and deadly weapon. It is a weapon of whichscience knows nothing--a blue ray of the colour produced by a MercuryVapour Lamp, according to Dr. Stuart who has seen it, and producingan odour like that of a blast furnace according to myself, who smelledit! Or this odour might have been caused by the fusing of the telephone;for the blue ray destroys such fragile things as telephones as easilyas it destroys wood and paper! There is even a large round hole burnedthrough the clay at the back of the study grate and through the brickwall behind it! Very well. 'The Scorpion' is a scientist and he is alsothe greatest menace to the world which the world has ever been calledupon to deal with. You agree with me?"

Inspector Dunbar heaved a great sigh, Stuart silently accepted acigarette from the Assistant Commissioner's box and the AssistantCommissioner spoke, slowly. 

"I entirely agree with you, M. Max. Respecting this ray, as well assome one or two other _minutiae_, I have made a short note which wewill discuss when you have completed your admirably lucid survey ofthe case. "

"These are the things, then, which we learn from the terribleexperiences of Dr. Stuart. Placing these experiences side by side withmy own in Paris and in London--which we have already discussed indetail--we find that we have to deal with an organisation--the objectof which is unknown--comprising among its members both Europeans('Le Balafre' was a Frenchman, I believe), cross-breeds such as Migueland Zara el-Khala" (Stuart winced), "one Algerian and a Hindu. It isthen an organisation having ramifications throughout Europe, the Eastand, _mon Dieu!_ where not? To continue. This little image"--he tookup from the Commissioner's table the golden scorpion, and the brokenfragment of tail--"is now definitely recognized by Dr. Stuart--who isfamiliar with the work of Oriental goldsmiths--to be of _Chinese_craftsmanship!"

"It may possibly be Tibetan, " interrupted Stuart; "but it comes to thesame thing. "

"Very well, " continued Max. "It is Chinese. We hope, very shortly, toidentify a house situated somewhere within this red ink circle"--heplaced his finger on a map of London which lay open on the table--"andwhich I know to be used as a meeting-place by members of thismysterious group. That circle, my friends, surrounds what is now knownas 'Chinatown'! For the third time I return to the man of the Wu-MenBridge; for the man of the Wu-Men Bridge was, apparently, a_Chinaman!_ Do I make myself clear?"

"Remarkably so, " declared the Assistant Commissioner, taking a freshcigarette. "Pray continue, M. Max. "

"I will do so. One of my most important investigations, in which I hadthe honour and the pleasure to be associated with Inspector Dunbar, ledto the discovery of a dangerous group controlled by a certain'Mr. King'----"

"Ah!" cried Dunbar, his tawny eyes sparkling with excitement, "I waswaiting for that!"

"I knew you would be waiting for it, Inspector. Your powers ofdeductive reasoning more and more are earning my respect. You recallthat singular case? The elaborate network extending from London toBuenos Ayres, from Peking to Petrograd? Ah! a wonderful system. It wasan opium syndicate, you understand, "--turning again to the AssistantCommissioner. 

"I recall the case, " replied the Commissioner, "although I did nothold my present appointment at the time. I believe there wereunsatisfactory features?"

"There were, " agreed Max. "We never solved the mystery of the identityof 'Mr. King, ' and although we succeeded in destroying the enterpriseI have since thought that we acted with undue precipitation. "

"Yes, " said Dunbar rapidly; "but there was that poor girl to berescued, you will remember? We couldn't waste time. "

"I agree entirely, Inspector. Our hands were forced. Yet, I repeat, Ihave since thought that we acted with undue precipitation. I will tellyou why. Do you recall the loss--not explained to this day--of theplans of the Haley torpedo?"

"Perfectly, " replied the Commissioner; and Dunbar also noddedaffirmatively. 

"Very well. A similar national loss was sustained about the same timeby my own Government. I am not at liberty to divulge its exact nature, as in the latter case the loss never became known to the public. Butthe only member of the French Chamber who had seen this document towhich I refer was a certain 'M. Blank, ' shall we say? I believe alsothat I am correct in stating that the late Sir Brian Malpas was amember of the British Cabinet at the time that the Haley plans werelost?"

"That is correct, " said the Assistant Commissioner, "but surely thehonour of the late Sir Brian was above suspicion?"

"Quite, " agreed Max; "so also was that of 'M. Blank. ' But my point isthis: Both 'M. Blank' and the late Sir Brian were clients of theopium syndicate!"

Dunbar nodded again eagerly. 

"Hard work I had to hush it up, " he said. "It would have finished hispolitical career. "

The Assistant Commissioner looked politely puzzled. 

"It was generally supposed that Sir Brian Malpas was addicted todrugs, " he remarked; "and I am not surprised to learn that hepatronised this syndicate to which you refer. But----" he paused, smiling satanically. "Ah!" he added--"I see! I see!"

"You perceive the drift of my argument?" cried Max. "You grasp what Imean when I say that we were too hasty? This syndicate existed for amore terrible purpose than the promulgating of a Chinese vice; it hadin its clutches men entrusted with national secrets, men of genius butslaves of a horrible drug. Under the influence of that drug, myfriends, how many of those secrets may they not have divulged?"

His words were received in hushed silence. 

"What became of those stolen plans?" he continued, speaking now in avery low voice. "In the stress of recent years has the Haley torpedomade its appearance so that we might learn to which Government theplans had been taken? No! the same mystery surrounds the fate of theinformation filched from the drugged brain of 'M. Blank. ' In a word"--he raised a finger dramatically--"someone is hoarding up thoseinstruments of destruction! Who is it that collects such things andfor what purpose does he collect them?"

Following another tense moment of silence:

"Let us have your own theory, M. Max, " said the Assistant Commissioner. 

Gaston Max shrugged his shoulders. 

"It is not worthy of the name of a theory, " he replied, "the surmisewhich I have made. But recently I found myself considering the factthat 'The Scorpion' might just conceivably be a Chinaman. Now, 'Mr. King, ' we believe was a Chinaman, and 'Mr. King, ' as I am nowconvinced, operated not for a personal but for a deeper, politicalpurpose. He stole the brains of genius and _accumulated_ that genius. Is it not possible that these contrary operations may be part of acommon plan?"

CHAPTER II

THE RED CIRCLE

"You are not by any chance, " suggested Stuart, smiling slightly, "hinting at that defunct bogey, the 'Yellow Peril'?"

"Ah!" cried Max, "but certainly I am not! Do not misunderstand me. This group with which we are dealing is shown to be not of a nationalbut of an international character. The same applied to the organisationof 'Mr. King. ' But a Chinaman directed the one, and I begin to suspectthat a Chinaman directs the other. No, I speak of no ridiculous'Yellow Peril, ' my friends. John Chinaman, as I have known him, is thewhitest man breathing; but can you not imagine"--he dropped his voiceagain in that impressive way which was yet so truly Gallic--"can younot imagine a kind of Oriental society which like a great, aformidable serpent, lies hidden somewhere below that deceptive jungleof the East? These are troubled times. It is a wise state to-day thatknows its own leaders. Can you not imagine a dreadful sudden menace, not of men and guns but of _brains_ and _capital_?"

"You mean, " said Dunbar slowly, "that 'The Scorpion' may be gettingpeople out of the way who might interfere with this rising or invasionor whatever it is?"

"Just as 'Mr. King' accumulated material for it, " interjected theAssistant Commissioner. "It is a bold conception, M. Max, and itraises the case out of the ordinary category and invests it withenormous international importance. "

All were silent for a time, Stuart, Dunbar and the Commissionerwatching the famous Frenchman as he sat there, arrayed in the latestfashion of Saville Row, yet Gallic to his finger-tips and in everygesture. It was almost impossible at times to credit the fact that aParisian was speaking, for the English of Gaston Max was flawlessexcept that he spoke with a faint American accent. Then, suddenly, agesture, an expletive, would betray the Frenchman. 

But such betrayals never escaped him when, in one of his inimitabledisguises, he penetrated to the purlieu of Whitechapel, to the dens ofLimehouse. Then he was the perfect Hooligan, as, mingling with thedangerous thieves of Paris, he was the perfect Apache. It was aninnate gift of mimicry which had made him the greatest investigatorof his day. He could have studied Chinese social life for six monthsand thereupon have become a mandarin whom his own servants would neverhave suspected to be a "foreign barbarian. " It was pure genius, asopposed to the brilliant efficiency of Dunbar. 

But in the heart of the latter, as he studied Gaston Max and realizedthe gulf that separated them, there was nothing but generousadmiration of a master; yet Dunbar was no novice, for by a process offine deductive reasoning he had come to the conclusion, as hasappeared, that Gaston Max had been masquerading as a cabman and thatthe sealed letter left with Dr. Stuart had been left as a lure. By oneof those tricks of fate which sometimes perfect the plans of men butmore often destroy them, the body of "Le Balafre" had been sodisfigured during the time that it had been buffeted about in theThames that it was utterly unrecognizable and indescribable. But eventhe disk had not deceived Dunbar. He had seen in it another ruse ofhis brilliant confrere, and his orders to the keeper of the mortuaryto admit no one without a written permit had been dictated by theconviction that Max wished the body to be mistaken for his own. InInspector Dunbar, Gaston Max immediately had recognized an ablecolleague as Mrs. M'Gregor had recognized "a grand figure of a man. "

The Assistant Commissioner broke the silence. 

"There have been other cases, " he said reflectively, "now that oneconsiders the matter, which seemed to point to the existence of sucha group or society as you indicate, M. Max, notably one with which, if I remember rightly, Inspector"--turning his dark eyes towardsDunbar--"Inspector Weymouth, late of this Branch, was associated?"

"Quite right, sir. It was his big case, and it got him a fine billetas Superintendent in Cairo if you remember?"

"Yes, " mused the Assistant Commissioner--"he transferred to Egypt--avery good appointment, as you say. That, again, was before my term ofoffice, but there were a number of very ghastly crimes connected withthe case and it was more or less definitely established, I believe, that some extensive secret society did actually exist throughout the East, governed, I fancy, by a Chinaman. "

"And from China, " added Dunbar. 

"Yes, yes, from China as you say, Inspector. " He turned to Gaston Max. "Can it really be, M. Max, that we have to deal with an upcrop of somedeeply-seated evil which resides in the Far East? Are all these cases, not the work of individual criminal but manifestations of a moresinister, a darker force?"

Gaston Max met his glance and Max's mouth grew very grim. 

"I honestly believe so. " he answered. "I have believed it for nearlytwo years--ever since the Grand Duke died. And now, you said, Iremember, that you had made a note the nature of which you wouldcommunicate. "

"Yes, " replied the Assistant Commissioner--"a small point, but onewhich may be worthy of attention. This ray, Dr. Stuart, which playedsuch havoc in your study--do you know of anything approaching to it inmore recent scientific devices?"

"Well, " said Stuart, "it my be no more than a development of one ofseveral systems, notably of that of the late Henrik Ericksen uponwhich he was at work at the time of his death. "

"Exactly. " The Assistant Commissioner smiled in his mostMephistophelean manner. "Of the late Henrik Ericksen, as you say. "

He said no more for a moment and sat smoking and looking from face toface. Then:

"That is the subject of my note, gentlemen, " he added. "The other_minutiae_ are of no immediate importance. "

"_Non d'un p'tit bonhomme!_" whispered Gaston Max. "I see! You thinkthat Ericksen had completed his experiments before he died, but thathe never lived to give them to the world?"

The Assistant Commissioner waved one hand in the air so that hediscoloration of the first and second fingers was very noticeable. 

"It is for you to ascertain these points, M. Max, " he said--"I onlysuggest. But I begin to share your belief that a series of daring andunusual assassinations has been taking place under the eyes of thepolice authorities of Europe. It can only be poison--an unknown poison, perhaps. We shall be empowered to exhume the body of the late SirFrank Narcombe in a few days' time, I hope. His case puzzles mehopelessly. What obstacle did a surgeon offer to this hypotheticalEastern movement? On the other hand, what can have been filched fromhim before his death? The death of an inventor, a statesman, a soldier, can be variously explained by your 'Yellow' hypothesis, M. Max, butwhat of the death of a surgeon?"

Gaston Max shrugged, and his mobile mouth softened in a quaint smile. 

"We have learned a little, " he said, "and guessed a lot. Let us hopeto guess more--and learn everything!"

"May I suggest, " added Dunbar, "that we hear Sowerby's report, sir?"

"Certainly, " agreed the Assistant Commissioner--"call SergeantSowerby. "

A moment later Sergeant Sowerby entered, his face very red and hishair bristling more persistently than usual. 

"Anything to report, Sowerby?" asked Dunbar. 

"Yes, Inspector, " replied Sowerby, in his Police Court manner;--hefaced the Assistant Commissioner, "with your permission, sir. "

He took out a note-book which appeared to be the twin of Dunbar's andconsulted it, assuming an expression of profound reflection. 

"In the first place, sir, " he began, never raising his eyes from thepage, "I have traced the cab sold on the hire-purchase system to acertain Charles _Mallett... _"

"Ha, ha!" laughed Max breezily--"he calls me a hammer! It is notMallett, Sergeant Sowerby--you have got too many _l's_ in that name;it is Malet and is called like one from the Malay States!"

"Oh, " commented Sowerby, glancing up--"indeed. Very good, sir. Theowner claims the balance of purchase money!"

Every one laughed at that, even the satanic Assistant Commissioner. 

"Pay your debts, M. Max, " he said. "You will bring the Service deSurete into bad repute! Carry on, Sergeant. "

"This cab, " continued Sowerby, when Dunbar interrupted him. 

"Cut out the part about the cab, Sowerby, " he said. "We've found thatout from M. Max. Have you anything to report about the yellow car?"

"Yes, " replied Sowerby, unperturbed, and turning over to the nextpage. "It was hired form Messrs. Wickers' garage, at Canning Town, bythe week. The lady who hired it was a Miss Dorian, a French lady. Shegave no reference, except that of the Savoy Hotel, where she wasstopping. She paid a big deposit and had her own chauffeur, a coloredman of some kind. 

"Is it still in use by her?" snapped Dunbar eagerly. 

"No, Inspector. She claimed her deposit this morning and said she wasleaving London. "

"The cheque?" cried Dunbar. 

"Was cashed half an hour later. "

"At what bank?"

"London County & Birmingham, Canning Town. Her own account at a Strandbank was closed yesterday. The details all concern milliners, jewellers, hotels and so forth. There's nothing there. I've been tothe Savoy, of course. "

"Yes!"

"A lady named Dorian has had rooms there for six weeks, has dined thereon several occasions, but was more often away than in the hotel. "

"Visitors?"

"Never had any. "

"She used to dine alone, then?"

"Always. "

"In the public dining-room?"

"No. In her own room. "

"_Morbleu!_" muttered Max. "It is she beyond doubt. I recognize hersociable habits!"

"Has she left now?" asked Dunbar. 

"She left a week ago. "

Sowerby closed his note-book and returned it to his pocket. 

"Is that all you have to report, Sergeant?" asked the AssistantCommissioner. 

"That's all, sir. "

"Very good. "

Sergeant Sowerby retired. 

"Now, sir, " said Dunbar, "I've got Inspector Kelly here. He looksafter the Chinese quarter. Shall I call him?"

"Yes, Inspector. "

Presently there entered a burly Irishman, bluff and good-humoured, avery typical example of the intelligent superior police officer, looking keenly around him. 

"Ah, Inspector, " the Assistant Commissioner greeted him--"we want yourassistance in a little matter concerning the Chinese residentialquarter. You know this district?"

"Certainly, sir. I know it very well. "

"On this map"--the Assistant Commissioner laid a discolouredforefinger upon the map of London--"you will perceive that we havedrawn a circle. "

Inspector Kelly bent over the table. 

"Yes, sir. "

"Within that circle, which is no larger in circumference that ashilling as you observe, lies a house used by a certain group ofpeople. It has been suggested to me that these people may be Chineseor associates of Chinese. "

"Well, sir, " said Inspector Kelly, smiling broadly, "considering thepatch inside the circle I think it more than likely! Seventy-five orit may be eighty per cent of the rooms and cellars and attics inthose three streets are occupied by Chinese. "

"For your guidance, Inspector, we believe these people to be adangerous gang of international criminals. Do you know of anyparticular house, or houses, likely to be used as a meeting-place bysuch a gang?"

Inspector Kelly scratched his close-cropped head. 

"A woman was murdered just there, sir, " he said, taking up a pen fromthe table and touching a point near the corner of Three Colt Street, "about a twelve-month ago. We traced the man--a Chinese sailor--to ahouse lying just about here. " Again he touched the map. "It's a sortof little junk-shop with a ramshackle house attached, all cellars andrabbit-hutches, as you might say, overhanging a disused cutting whichis filled at high tide. Opium is to be had there and card-playinggoes on, and I won't swear that you couldn't get liquor. But it'swell conducted as such dives go. "

"Why is it not closed?" inquired the Assistant Commissioner, seizingan opportunity to air his departmental ignorance. 

"Well, sir, " replied Inspector Kelly, his eyes twinkling--"if we shutup all these places we should never know where to look for some ofour regular customers! As I mentioned, we found the wanted Chinaman, three parts drunk, in one of the rooms. "

"It's a sort of lodging-house, then?"

"Exactly. There's a moderately big room just behind the shop, principally used by opium-smokers, and a whole nest of smaller roomsabove and below. Mind you, sir, I don't say this is the place you'relooking for, but it's the most likely inside your circle. "

"Who is the proprietor?"

"A retired Chinese sailor called Ah-Fang-Fu, but better known as'Pidgin. ' His establishment is called locally 'The Pidgin House. '"

"Ah. " The Commissioner lighted a cigarette. "And you know of no otherhouse which might be selected for such a purpose as I have mentioned?"

"I can't say I do, sir. I know pretty well all the business affairs ofthat neighbourhood, and none of the houses inside your circle havechanged hands during the past twelve months. Between ourselves, sir, nearly all the property in the district belongs to Ah-Fang-Fu, andanything that goes on in Chinatown _he_ knows about!"

"Ah, I see. Then in any event he is the man we want to watch?"

"Well, sir, you ought to keep an eye on his visitors, I should say. "

"I am obliged to you, Inspector, " said the courteous AssistantCommissioner, "for your very exact information. If necessary I shallcommunicate with you again. Good-day. "

"Good-day, sir, " replied the Inspector. "Good-day, gentlemen. "

He went out. 

Gaston Max, who had diplomatically remained in the backgroundthroughout this interview, now spoke. 

_"Pardieu!_ but I have been thinking, " he said. "Although 'TheScorpion, ' as I hope, believes that that troublesome Charles Malet isdead, he may also wonder if Scotland Yard has secured from Dr. Stuart's fire any fragments of the information sealed in the envelope!What does it mean, this releasing of the yellow car, closing of thebank account and departure from the Savoy?"

"It means flight!" cried Dunbar, jumping violently to his feet. "Bygad, sir!" he turned to the Assistant Commissioner--"the birds mayhave flown already!"

The Assistant Commissioner leaned back in his chair. 

"I have sufficient confidence in M. Max, " he said, "to believe that, having taken the responsibility of permitting this dangerous group tolearn that they were under surveillance, he has good reason tosuppose that they have not slipped through our fingers. "

Gaston Max bowed. 

"It is true, " he replied, and from his pocket he took a slip of flimsypaper. "This code message reached me as I was about to leave my hotel. The quadroon, Miguel, left Paris last night and arrived in London thismorning----"

"He was followed?" cried Dunbar. 

"But certainly. He was followed to Limehouse, and he was definitelyseen to enter the establishment described to us by Inspector Kelly!"

"Gad!" said Dunbar--"then _someone_ is still there?"

"Someone, as you say, is still there, " replied Max. "But everythingpoints to the imminent departure of this someone. Will you see to it, Inspector, that not a rat--_pardieu_ not a little mouse--is allowed toslip out of our red circle to-day. For to-night we shall pay afriendly visit to the house of Ah-Fang-Fu, and I should wish all thecompany to be present. "

CHAPTER III

MISKA'S STORY

Stuart returned to his house in a troubled frame of mind. He hadrefrained so long from betraying the circumstances of his last meetingwith Mlle. Dorian to the police authorities that this meeting nowconstituted a sort of guilty secret, a link binding him to thebeautiful accomplice of "The Scorpion"--to the dark-eyed servant ofthe uncanny cowled thing which had sought his life by strange means. He hugged this secret to his breast, and the pain of it afforded him akind of savage joy. 

In his study he found a Post Office workman engaged in fitting a newtelephone. As Stuart entered the man turned. 

"Good-afternoon, sir, " he said, taking up the destroyed instrumentfrom the litter of flux, pincers and screw drivers lying upon thetable. "If it's not a rude question, how on earth did _this_ happen?"

Stuart laughed uneasily. 

"It got mixed up with an experiment which I was conducting, " hereplied evasively. 

The man inspected the headless trunk of the instrument. 

"It seems to be fused, as though the top of it had been in a blastfurnace, " he continued. "Experiments of that sort are a bit dangerousoutside a proper laboratory, I should think. "

"They are, " agreed Stuart. "But I have no facilities here, you see, and I was--er--compelled to attempt the experiment. I don't intend torepeat it. "

"That's lucky, " murmured the man, dropping the instrument into acarpet-bag. "If you do, it will cost you a tidy penny for telephones!"

Walking out towards the dispensary, Stuart met Mrs. M'Gregor. 

"A Post Office messenger brought this letter for you, Mr. Keppel, justthe now, " she said, handing Stuart a sealed envelope. 

He took the envelope from her hand, and turned quickly away. He feltthat he had changed colour. For it was addressed in the handwritingof ... Mlle. Dorian!

"Thank you, Mrs. M'Gregor, " he said and turned into the dining-room. 

Mrs. M'Gregor proceeded about her household duties, and as herfootsteps receded, Stuart feverishly tore open the envelope. Thatelusive scent of jasmine crept to his nostrils. In the envelope was asheet of thick note-paper (having the top cut off evidently in orderto remove the printed address), upon which the following singularmessage was written:

"Before I go away there is something I want to say to you. You do nottrust me. It is not wonderful that you do not. But I swear that Ionly want to save you from a _great_ danger. If you will promise notto tell the police anything of it, I will meet you at six o'clock bythe Book Stall at Victoria Station--on the Brighton side. If you agreeyou will wear something white in your button-hole. If not you cannotfind me there. Nobody ever sees me again. "

There was no signature, but no signature was necessary. 

Stuart laid the letter on the table, and began to pace up and downthe room. His heart was beating ridiculously. His self-contempt wasprofound. But he could not mistake his sentiments. 

His duty was plain enough. But he had failed in it once, and even ashe strode up and down the room, already he knew that he must failagain. He knew that, rightly or wrongly, he was incapable of placingthis note in the hands of the police ... And he knew that he shouldbe at Victoria Station at six o'clock. 

He would never have believed himself capable of becoming accessory toa series of crimes--for this was what his conduct amounted to; he hadthought that sentiment no longer held any meaning for him. Yet theonly excuse which he could find wherewith to solace himself was thatthis girl had endeavoured to save him from assassination. Weighedagainst the undoubted fact that she was a member of a dangerouscriminal group what was it worth? If the supposition of Gaston Maxwas correct, "The Scorpion" had at least six successful murders tohis credit, in addition to the attempt upon his (Stuart's) life andthat of "Le Balafre", upon the life of Gaston Max. 

It was an accomplice of this nameless horror called "The Scorpion"with whom at six o'clock he had a tryst, whom he was protecting fromjustice, by the suppression of whose messages to himself he was addingdifficulties to the already difficult task of the authorities!

Up and down he paced, restlessly, every now and again glancing at aclock upon the mantelpiece. His behavior he told himself wascontemptible. 

Yet, at a quarter to six, he went out--and seeing a little clusterof daisies growing amongst the grass bordering the path, he pluckedone and set it in his button-hole!

A few minutes before the hour he entered the station and glancedsharply around at the many groups scattered about in the neighbourhoodof the bookstall. There was no sign of Mlle. Dorian. He walkedaround the booking office without seeing her and glanced into thewaiting-room. Then, looking up at the station clock, he saw that thehour had come, and as he stood there staring upward he felt a timidtouch upon his shoulder. 

He turned--and she was standing by his side!

She was Parisian from head to foot, simply but perfectly gowned. Aveil hung from her hat and half concealed her face, but could nothide her wonderful eyes nor disguise the delightful curves of her redlips. Stuart automatically raised his hat, and even as he did sowondered what she should have said and done had she suddenly foundGaston Max standing at his elbow! He laughed shortly. 

"You are angry with me, " said Mlle. Dorian, and Stuart thought thather quaint accent was adorable. "Or are you angry with yourself forseeing me?"

"I am angry with myself, " he replied, "for being so weak. "

"Is it so weak, " she said, rather tremulously, "not to judge a womanby what she seems to be and not to condemn her before you hear whatshe has to say? If that is weak, I am glad; I think it is how a manshould be. "

Her voice and her eyes completed the spell, and Stuart resignedhimself without another struggle to this insane infatuation. 

"We cannot very well talk here, " he said. "Suppose we go into thehotel and have late tea, Mlle. Dorian. "

"Yes. Very well. But please do not call me that. It is not my name. "

Stuart was on the point of saying, "Zara el-Khala then, " but checkedhimself in the nick of time. He might hold communication with theenemy, but at least he would give away no information. 

"I am called Miska, " she added. "Will you please call me Miska?"

"Of course, if you wish, " said Stuart, looking down at her as shewalked by his side and wondering what he would do when he had to standup in Court, look at Miska in the felon's dock and speak words whichwould help to condemn her--perhaps to death, at least to penalservitude! He shuddered. 

"Have I said something that displeases you?" she asked, resting awhite-gloved hand on his arm. "I am sorry. "

"No, no, " he assured her. "But I was thinking--I cannot helpthinking ... "

"How wicked I am?" she whispered. 

"How lovely you are!" he said hotly, "and how maddening it is toremember that you are an accomplice of criminals!"

"Oh, " she said, and removed her hand, but not before he had felt howit trembled. They were about to enter the tea-room when she added:"Please don't say that until I have told you why I do what I do. "

Obeying a sudden impulse, he took her hand and drew it close underhis arm. 

"No, " he said; "I won't. I was a brute, Miska. Miska means 'musk', surely?"

"Yes. " She glanced up at him timidly. "Do you think it a pretty name?"

"Very, " he said, laughing. 

Underlying the Western veneer was the fascinating naivete of theEastern woman, and Miska had all the suave grace, too, which belongsto the women of the Orient, so that many admiring glances followedher charming figure as she crossed the room to a vacant table. 

"Now, " said Stuart, when he had given an order to the waiter, "whatdo you want to tell me? Whatever it may be, I am all anxiety to hearit. I promise that I will only act upon anything you may tell me inthe event of my life, or that of another, being palpably endangeredby my silence. "

"Very well. I want to tell you, " replied Miska, "why I stay withFo-Hi. "

"Who is Fo-Hi?"

"I do not know!"

"What!" said Stuart. "I am afraid I don't understand you. "

"If I speak in French will you be able to follow what I say?"

"Certainly. Are you more at ease with French?"

"Yes, " replied Miska, beginning to speak in the latter language. "Mymother was French, you see, and although I can speak in Englishfairly well I cannot yet _think_ in English. Do you understand?

"Perfectly. So perhaps you will now explain to whom you refer whenyou speak of Fo-Hi. "

Miska glanced apprehensively around her, bending further forward overthe table. 

"Let me tell you from the beginning, " she said in a low voice, "andthen you will understand. It must not take me long. You see me as Iam to-day because of a dreadful misfortune that befell me when I wasfifteen years old. "

"My father was _Wali_ of Aleppo, and my mother, his third wife, was aFrenchwoman, a member of a theatrical company which had come to Cairo, where he had first seen her. She must have loved him, for she gave upthe world, embraced Islam and entered his _harem_ in the great houseon the outskirts of Aleppo. Perhaps it was because he, too, was halfFrench, that they were mutually attracted. My father's mother was aFrenchwoman also, you understand. 

"Until I was fifteen years of age, I never left the _harem, _ but mymother taught me French and also a little English; and she prevailedupon my father not to give me in marriage so early as is usual in theEast. She taught me to understand the ways of European women, and weused to have Paris journals and many books come to us regularly. Thenan awful pestilence visited Aleppo. People were dying in the mosquesand in the streets, and my father decided to send my mother and myselfand some others of the _harem_ to his brother's house in Damaskus. 

"Perhaps you will think that such things do not happen in these days, and particularly to members of the household of a chief magistrate, but I can only tell you what is true. On the second night of ourjourney a band of Arabs swept down upon the caravan, overpowered theguards, killing them all, and carried of everything of value which wehad. Me, also, they carried off--me and one other, a little Syriangirl, my cousin. Oh!" she shuddered violently--"even now I cansometimes hear the shrieks of my mother ... And I can hear, also, theway they suddenly ceased, those cries ... "

Stuart looked up with a start to find a Swiss waiter placing tea uponthe table. He felt like rubbing his eyes. He had been dragged rudelyback from the Syrian desert to the prosaic realities of a London hotel. 

"Perhaps, " continued Miska, "you will think that we were ill-treated, but it was not so. No one molested us. We were given every comfortwhich desert life can provide, servant to wait upon us and plenty ofgood food. After several weeks' journeying we came to a large city, having many minarets and domes glimmering in the moonlight; for weentered at night. Indeed, we always travelled at night. At the time Ihad no idea of the name of this city but I learned afterwards that itwas Mecca. 

"As we proceeded through the streets, the Assyrian girl and I peepedout through the little windows of the _shibriyeh_--which is a kind oftent on the back of a camel--in which we travelled, hoping to see somefamiliar face or someone to whom we could appeal. But there seemed tobe scarcely anyone visible in the streets, although lights shone outfrom many windows, and the few men we saw seemed to be anxious toavoid us. In fact, several ran down side turnings as the camelsapproached. 

"We stopped before the gate of a large house which was presentlyopened, and the camels entered the courtyard. We descended, and I sawthat a number of small apartments surrounded the courtyard in themanner of a _caravanserai. _ Then, suddenly, I saw something else, andI knew why we had been treated with such consideration on the journey;I knew into what hand I had fallen--I knew that I was in the house ofa _slave-dealer!_"

"Good heavens!" muttered Stuart--"this is almost incredible. "

"I knew you would doubt what I had to tell you, " declared Miskaplaintively; "but I solemnly swear what I tell you is the truth. Yes, I was in the house of a slave-dealer, and on the very next day, because I was proficient in languages, in music and in dancing, andalso because--according to their Eastern ideas--I was pretty, thedealer, Mohammed Abd-el-Bali ... Offered me for sale. "

She stopped, lowering her eyes and flushing hotly, then continuedwith hesitancy. 

"In a small room which I can never forget I was offered the onlyindignity which I had been called upon to suffer since my abduction. I was _exhibited_ to prospective purchasers. "

"As she spoke the words, Miska's eyes flashed passionately and herhand, which lay on the table, trembled. Stuart silently reachedacross and rested his own upon it. 

"There were all kinds of girls, " Miska continued, "black and brown andwhite, in the adjoining rooms, and some of them were singing and somedancing, whilst others wept. Four different visitors inspected mecritically, two of them being agents for royal _harems_ and the othertwo--how shall I say it?--wealthy connoisseurs. But the price asked byMohammed Abd-el-Bali was beyond the purses of all except one of theagents. He had indeed settled the bargain, when the singing anddancing and shouting--every sound it seemed--ceased about me ... Andinto the little room in which I crouched amongst perfumed cushions atthe feet of the two men, walked Fo-Hi. "

CHAPTER IV

MISKA'S STORY _(concluded)_

"Of course, I did not know that this was his name at the time; I onlyknew that a tall Chinaman had entered the room--and that his face wasentirely covered by a green veil. "

Stuart started, but did not interrupt Miska's story. 

"This veil gave him in some way a frightfully malign and repellentappearance. As he stood in the doorway looking down I seemed to _feel_his gaze passing over me like a flame, although of course I could notsee his eyes. For a moment he stood there looking at me; and much ashis presence had affected me, its affect upon the slave-dealer and mypurchaser was extraordinary. They seemed to be stricken dumb. Suddenlythe Chinaman spoke, in perfect Arabic. 'Her price?' he said. 

"Mohammed Abd-el-Bali, standing trembling before him, replied:

"'Miska is already sold, lord, but----"

"'Her price?' repeated the Chinaman, in the same hard metallic voiceand without the slightest change of intonation. 

"The _harem_ agent who had bought me now said, his voice shaking sothat the words were barely audible:

"'I give her up, Mohammed--I give her up. Who am I to dispute with theMandarin Fo-Hi;' and performing an abject obeisance he backed out ofthe room. 

"At the same moment, Mohammed, whose knees were trembling so that theyseemed no longer capable of supporting him, addressed the Chinaman. 

"'Accept the maiden as an unworthy gift, ' he began--

"'Her price?' repeated Fo-Hi. 

"Mohammed, whose teeth had begun to chatter, asked him twice as muchas he had agreed to accept from the other, Fo-Hi clapped his hands, and a fierce-eyed Hindu entered the room. 

"Fo-Hi addressed him in a language which I did not understand, although I have since learned that it was Hindustani, and the Indianfrom a purse which he carried counted out the amount demanded by thedealer and placed the money upon a little inlaid table which stood inthe room. Fo-Hi gave him some brief order, turned and walked out ofthe room. I did not see him again for four years--that is until mynineteenth birthday. 

"I know that you are wondering about many things and I will try tomake some of them clear to you. You are wondering, no doubt, how sucha trade as I have described is carried on in the East to-day almostunder the eyes of European Governments. Now I shall surprise you. WhenI was taken from the house of the slave-dealer, in charge of ChundaLal--for this was the name of the Hindu--do you know where I wascarried to? I will tell you: to _Cairo!"_

"Cairo!" cried Stuart--then, perceiving that he had attractedattention by speaking so loudly, he lowered his voice. "Do you mean totell me that you were taken as a _slave_ to Cairo?"

Miska smiled--and her smile was the taunting smile of the East, whichis at once a caress and an invitation. 

"You think, no doubt, that there are no slaves in Cairo!" she said. "So do most people, and so did I--once. I learned better. There arepalaces in Cairo, I assure you, in which there are many slaves. Imyself lived in such a palace for four years, and I was not the onlyslave there. What do British residents and French residents know ofthe inner domestic life of their Oriental neighbours? Are they everadmitted to the _harem?_ And the slaves--are they ever admittedoutside the walls of the palace? Sometimes, yes, but never alone!

"By slow stages, following the ancient caravan routes, and accompaniedby an extensive retinue of servants in charge of Chunda Lal, we cameto Cairo; and one night, approaching the city from the north-east andentering by the Bab en-Nasr, I was taken to the old palace which wasto be my prison for four years. How I passed those four years has nobearing upon the matters which I have to tell you, but I lived theuseless, luxurious life of some Arabian princess, my lightest wishanticipated and gratified; nothing was denied me, except freedom. 

"Then, one day--it was actually my nineteenth birthday--Chunda Lalpresented himself and told me that I was to have an interview withFo-Hi. Hearing these words, I nearly swooned, for a hundred timesduring the years of my strange luxurious captivity I had awakenedtrembling in the night, thinking that the figure of the awful veiledChinaman had entered the room. 

"You must understand that having spent my childhood in a _harem, _the mode of life which I was compelled to follow in Cairo was not soinsufferable as it must have been for a European woman. Neither was mycaptivity made unduly irksome. I often drove through the Europeanquarters, always accompanied by Chunda Lal, and closely veiled, andI regularly went shopping in the bazaars--but never alone. The deathof my mother--and later that of my father, of which Chunda Lal hadtold me--were griefs that time had dulled. But the horror of Fo-Hi wasone which lived with me, day and night. 

"To a wing of the palace kept closely locked, and which I had neverseen opened, I was conducted by Chunda Lal. There, in a room of akind with which was part library and part _mandarah, _ part museumand part laboratory, I found the veiled man seated at a greatlittered table. As I stood trembling before him he raised a longyellow hand and waved to Chunda Lal to depart. When he obeyed and Iheard the door close I could scarcely repress a shriek of terror. 

"For what seemed an interminable time he sat watching me. I dared notlook at him, but again I felt his gaze passing over me like a flame. Then he began to speak, in French, which he spoke without a trace ofaccent. 

"He told me briefly that my life of idleness had ended and that a newlife of activity in many parts of the world was about to commence. His manner was quite unemotional, neither harsh nor kindly, hismetallic voice conveyed no more than the bare meaning of the wordswhich he uttered. When, finally, he ceased speaking, he struck a gongwhich hung from a corner of the huge table, and Chunda Lal entered. 

"Fo-Hi addressed a brief order to him in Hindustani--and a fewmoments later a second Chinaman walked slowly into the room. "

Miska paused, as if to collect her ideas, but continued almostimmediately. 

"He wore a plain yellow robe and had a little black cap on his head. His face, his wonderful evil face I can never forget, and his eyes--Ifear you will think I exaggerate--but his eyes were green as emeralds!He fixed them upon me. 

"'This, ' said Fo-Hi, 'is Miska. '

"The other Chinaman continued to regard me with those dreadful eyes;then:

"'You have chosen well. ' he said, turned and slowly went out again. 

"I thank God that I have never seen him since, for his dreadful facehaunted my dreams for long afterwards. But I have learned of him, andI know that next to Fo-Hi he is the most dangerous being in the knownworld. He has invented horrible things--poisons and instruments, whichI cannot describe because I have never seen them; but I have seen ... Some of their effects. "

She paused, overcome with the horror of her memories. 

"What is the name of this other man?" asked Stuart eagerly. Miskaglanced at him rapidly. 

"Oh, do not ask me questions, please!" she pleaded. "I will tell youall I can, all I dare; what I do not tell you I cannot tell you--andthis is one of the things I dare not tell. He is a Chinese scientistand, I have heard, the greatest genius in the whole world, but I cansay no more--yet. "

"Is he still alive--this man?"

"I do not know that. If he is alive, he is in China--at some secretpalace in the province of Ho-Nan, which is the headquarters of whatis called the 'Sublime Order. ' I have never been there, but there areEuropeans there, as well as Orientals. "

"What! in the company of these fiends!"

"It is useless to ask me--oh! indeed, I would tell you if I could, butI cannot! Let me go on from the time when I saw Fo-Hi in Cairo. Hetold me that I was a member of an organization dating back to remoteantiquity which was destined to rule all the races of mankind--theCelestial age he called their coming triumph. Something which they hadlacked in order to achieve success had been supplied by the dreadfulman who had entered the room and expressed his approval of me. 

"For many years they had been at work in Europe, secretly, as well asin the East. I understood that they had acquired a quantity ofvaluable information of some kind by means of a system of opium-housessituated in the principal capitals of the world and directed by Fo-Hiand a number of Chinese assistants. Fo-Hi had remained in China mostof the time, but had paid occasional visits to Europe. The otherman--the monster with the black skull cap--had been responsible forthe conduct of the European enterprises. "

"Throughout this interview, " interrupted Stuart, forgetful of the factthat Miska had warned him of the futility of asking questions, "andduring others which you must have had with Fo-Hi, did you never obtaina glimpse of his face?"

"Never! No one has ever seen his face! I know that his eyes are abrilliant and unnatural yellow colour, but otherwise I should notknow him if I saw him unveiled, to-morrow. Except, " she added, "by asense of loathing which his presence inspires in me. But I must hurry. If you interrupt me, I shall not have time. 

"From that day in Cairo--oh! how can I tell you! I began the life ofan adventuress! I do not deny it. I came here to confess it to you. Iwent to New York, to London, to Paris, to Petrograd; I went all overthe world. I had beautiful dresses, jewels, admiration--all that womenlive for! And in the midst of it all mine was the life of thecloister; no nun could be more secluded!

"I see the question in your eyes--why did I do it? Why did I lure meninto the clutches of Fo-Hi? For this is what I did; and when I havefailed, I have been punished. "

Stuart shrank from her. 

"You confess, " he said hoarsely, "that you knowing lured men to_death?"_

"Ah, no!" she whispered, looking about her fearfully--"never! never!I swear it--never!"

"Then"--he stared at her blankly--"I do not understand you!"

"I dare not make it clearer--now: I dare not--dare not! But _believe_me! Oh, please, please, " she pleaded, her soft voice dropping to awhisper--"believe me! If you know what I risked to tell you so much, you would be more merciful. A horror which cannot be described"--againshe shuddered--"will fall upon me if _he_ ever suspects! You think meyoung and full of life, with all the world before me. You do not know. I am, literally, _already dead!_ Oh! I have followed a strange career. I have danced in a Paris theatre and I have sold flowers in Rome; Ihave had my box at the Opera and I have filled opium pipes in a den atSan Francisco! But never, never have I lured a man to his death. Andthrough it all, from first to last, no man has so much as kissed myfinger-tips!

"At a word, at a sign, I have been compelled to go from Monte Carlo toBuenos Ayres; at another sign from there to Tokio! Chunda Lal hasguarded me as only the women of the East are guarded. Yet, in hisfierce way, he has always tried to befriend me, he has always beenfaithful. But ah! I shrink from him many times, in horror, because Iknow _what_ he is! But I may not tell you. Look! Chunda Lal has neverbeen out of sound of this whistle"--she drew a little silver whistlefrom her dress--"for a moment since that day when he came into thehouse of the slave-dealer in Mecca, except----"

And now, suddenly, a wave of glorious colour flooded her beautifulface and swiftly she lowered her eyes, replacing the little whistle. Stuart's rebellious heart leapt madly, for whatever he might thinkof her almost incredible story, that sweet blush was no subterfuge, no product of acting. 

"You almost drive me mad, " he said in low voice, resembling the tonesof repressed savagery. "You tell me so much, but withhold so muchthat I am more bewildered than ever. I can understand yourhelplessness in an Eastern household, but why should you obey thebehests of this veiled monster in London, in New York, in Paris?"

She did not raise her eyes. 

"I dare not tell you. But I dare not disobey him. "

"Who is he!"

"No one knows, because no one has ever seen his face! Ah! you arelaughing! But I swear before heaven I speak the truth! Indoors hewears a Chinese dress and a green veil. In passing from place to place, which he always does at night, he is attired in a kind of cowl whichonly exposes his eyes----"

"But how _can_ such a fantastic being travel?"

"By road, on land, and in a steam yacht, at sea. Why should _you_doubt my honesty?" She suddenly raises her glance to Stuart's face andhe saw that she had grown pale. "I have risked what I cannot tell you, and more than once--for you! I tried to call you on the telephone onthe night that he set out from the house near Hampton Court to killyou, but I could get no reply, and----"

"Stop!" said Stuart, almost too exited to note at the time that shehad betrayed a secret. "It was _you_ who rang up that night?

"Yes. Why did you not answer?"

"Never mind. Your call saved my life. I shall not forget. " He lookedinto her eyes. "But can you not tell me what it all means? What orwhom is 'The Scorpion'?"

She flinched. 

"The Scorpion is--a passport. See. " From a little pocket in the coatof her costume she drew out a golden scorpion! "I have one. " Shereplaced it hurriedly. "I dare not, dare not tell you more. But thismuch I had to tell you, because ... I shall never see you again!"

"What!"

"A French detective, a very clever man, learned a lot about 'TheScorpion' and he followed one of the members to England. This mankilled him. Oh, I know I belong to a horrible organization!" shecried bitterly. "But I tell you I am helpless and _I_ have neveraided in such a thing. You should know that! But all he found out heleft with you--and I do not know if I succeeded in destroying it. I donot ask you. I do not care. But I leave England to-night. Good-bye. "

She suddenly stood up. Stuart rose also. He was about to speak whenMiska's expression changed. A look of terror crept over her face, andhastily lowering her veil she walked rapidly away from the table andout of the room!

Many curious glances followed the elegant figure to the door. Thenthose glances were directed upon Stuart. 

Flushing with embarrassment, he quickly settled the bill and hurriedout of the hotel. Gaining the street, he looked eagerly right and left. 

But Miska had disappeared!

CHAPTER V

THE HEART OF CHUNDA LAL

Dusk had drawn a grey mantle over the East-End streets when Miska, discharging the cab in which she had come from Victoria, hurriedfurtively along a narrow alley tending Thamesward. Unconsciously shecrossed a certain line--a line invisible except upon a map of Londonwhich lay upon the table of the Assistant Commissioner in New ScotlandYard--the line forming the "red circle" of M. Gaston Max. And, crossing this line, she became the focus upon which four pairs ofwatchful eyes were directed. 

Arriving at the door of a mean house some little distance removedfrom that of Ah-Fang-Fu, Miska entered, for the door was open, anddisappeared from the view of the four detectives who were watching thestreet. Her heart was beating rapidly. For she had thought, as shehad stood up to leave the restaurant, that the fierce eyes of ChundaLal had looked in through the glass panel of one of the doors. 

This gloomy house seemed to swallow her up, and the men who watchedwondered more and more what had become of the elegant figure, grotesque in such a setting, which had vanished into the narrowdoorway--and which did not reappear. Even Inspector Kelly, who knewso much about Chinatown, did not know that the cellars of the threehouses left and right of Ah-Fang-Fu's were connected by a series ofdoors planned and masked with Chinese cunning. 

Half an hour after Miska had disappeared into the little house nearthe corner, the hidden door in the damp cellar below "The PidginHouse" opened and a bent old woman, a ragged, grey-haired and dirtyfigure, walked slowly up the rickety wooden stair and entered a bareroom behind and below the shop and to the immediate left of the denof the opium-smoker. This room, which was windowless, was lighted bya tin paraffin lamp hung upon a nail in the dirty plaster wall. Thefloor presented a litter of straw, paper and broken packing-cases. Two steps led up to a second door, a square heavy door of greatstrength. The old woman, by means of a key which she carried, wasabout to open this door when it was opened from the other side. 

Lowering his head as he came through, Chunda Lal descended. He woreEuropean clothes and a white turban. Save for his ardent eyes andthe handsome fanatical face of the man, he might have passed for alascar. He turned and half closed the door. The woman shrank fromhim, but extending a lean brown hand he gripped her arm. His eyesglittered feverishly. 

"So!" he said, "we are all leaving England? Five of the Chinese sailwith the P. And O. Boat to-night. Ali Khan goes to-morrow, and RamaDass, with Miguel, and the _Andaman_. I meet them at Singapore. But you?"

The woman raised her finger to her lips, glancing fearfully towardsthe open door. But the Hindu, drawing her nearer, repeated with subduedfierceness:

"I ask it again--but _you_?"

"I do not know, " muttered the woman, keeping her head lowered andmoving in the direction of the steps. 

But Chunda Lal intercepted her. 

"Stop!" he said--"not yet are you going. There is something I have tospeak to you. "

"Ssh!" she whispered, half turning and pointing up toward the door. 

"Those!" said the Hindu contemptuously--"the poor slaves of the blacksmoke! Ah! they are floating in their dream paradise; they have noears to hear, no eyes to see!" He grasped her wrist again. "Theycontest for shadow smiles and dream kisses, but Chunda Lal have eyesto see and ears to hear. He dream, too but of lips more sweet thanhoney, of a voice like the Song of the Daood! _Inshalla!"_

Suddenly he clutched the grey hair of the bent old woman and with oneangry jerk snatched it from her head--for it was a cunning wig. Disordered, hair gleaming like bronze waves in the dim lamplight wasrevealed and the great dark eyes of Miska looked out from theartificially haggard face--eyes wide open and fearful. 

"Bend not that beautiful body so, " whispered Chunda Lal, "that isstraight and supple as the willow branch. O, Miska"--his voicetrembled emotionally and he that had been but a moment since so fiercestood abashed before her--"for you I become as the meanest and thelowest; for you I die!"

Miska started back from him as a muffled outcry sounded in the roombeyond the half-open door. Chunda Las started also, but almostimmediately smiled--and his smile was tender as a woman's. 

"It is the voice of the black smoke that speaks, Miska. We are alone. Those are dead men speaking from their tombs. "

"Ah-Fang-Fu is in the shop, " whispered Miska. 

"And there he remain. "

"But what of ... _him!"_

Miska pointed toward the eastern wall of the room in which they stood. 

Chunda Lal clenched his hands convulsively and turned his eyes in thesame direction. 

"It is of _him_, " he replied in a voice of suppressed vehemence, "itis of _him_ I would speak. " He bent close to Miska's ear. "In thecreek, below the house, is lying the motor-boat. I go to-day to bringit down for him. He goes to-night to the other house up the river. To-morrow I am gone. Only you remaining. "

"Yes, yes. He also leaves England to-morrow. "

"And you?"

"I go with him, " she whispered. 

Chunda Lal glanced apprehensively toward the door. Then:

"Do not go with him!" he said, and sought to draw Miska into his arms. "O, light of my eyes, do not go with him!"

Miska repulsed him, but not harshly. 

"No, no, it is no good, Chunda Lal. I cannot hear you. "

"You think"--the Hindu's voice was hoarse with emotion--"that _he_ willtrace you--and kill you?"

_"Trace me!"_ exclaimed Miska with sudden scorn. "Is it necessary forhim to trace me? Am I not already dead except for _him!_ Would I behis servant, his lure, his slave for one little hour, for one shortminute, if my life was my own!"

Beads of perspiration gleamed upon the brown forehead of the Hindu, and his eyes turned from the door to the eastern wall and back againto Miska. He was torn by conflicting desires, but suddenly cameresolution. 

"Listen, then. " His voice was barely audible. "If I tell you that yourlife _is_ your own--if I reveal to you a secret which I learned in thehouse of Abdul Rozan in Cairo----"

Miska watched him with eyes in which a new, a wild expression wasdawning. 

"If I tell you that life and not death awaits you, will you come awayto-night, and we sail for India to-morrow! Ah! I have money! Perhaps Iam rich as well as--someone; perhaps I can buy you the robes of aprincess"--he drew her swiftly to him--"and cover those white armswith jewels. "

Miska shrank from him. 

"All this means nothing, " she said. "How can the secret of AbdulRozan help me to live! And you--you will be dead before I die!--yes!One little hour after _he_ finds out that I go!"

"Listen again, " hissed Chunda Lal intensely. "Promise me, and I willopen for you a gate of life. For you, Miska, I will do it, and weshall be free. _He_ will never find out. He shall not be living tofind out!"

"No, no, Chunda Lal, " she moaned. "You have been my only friend, andI have tried to forget ... "

"I will forswear Kali forever, " he said fervently, "and shed no bloodfor all my life! I will live for you alone and be your slave. "

"It is no good. I cannot, Chunda Lal, I cannot. "

"Miska!" he pleaded tenderly. 

"No, no, " she repeated, her voice quivering--"I cannot ... Oh! do notask it; I cannot!"

She picked up the hideous wig, moving towards the door. Chunda Lalwatched her, clenching his hands; and his eyes, which had been sotender, grew fierce. 

"Ah!" he cried--"and it may be I know a reason!"

She stopped, glancing back at him. 

"It may be, " he continued, and his repressed violence was terrible, "it may be that I, whose heart is never sleeping, have seen and heard!One night"--he crept towards her--"one night when I cry the warningthat the Doctor Sahib returns to his house, you do not come! He goesin at the house and you remain. But at last you come, and I see inyour eyes----"

"Oh!" breathed Miska, watching him fearfully. 

"Do I not see it in your eyes now! Never before have I thought sountil you go to that house, never before have you escaped from my careas here in London. Twice again I have doubted, and because there wasother work to do I have been helpless to find out. _To-night_"--hestood before her, glaring madly into her face--"I think so again--thatyou have gone to him.... "

"Oh, Chunda Lal!" cried Miska piteously and extended her hands towardshim. "No, no--do not say it!"

"So!" he whispered--"I understand! You risk so much for him--for meyou risk nothing! If he--the Doctor Sahib--say to you: 'Come with me, Miska----'"

"No, no! Can I never have one friend in all the world! I hear youcall, Chunda Lal, but I am burning the envelope and--Doctor Stuart--finds me. I am trapped. You know it is so. 

"I know you say so. And because he--Fo-Hi--is not sure and because ofthe piece of the scorpion which you find there, we go to that house--_he_ and I--and we fail in what we go for. " Chunda Lal's hand droppedlimply to his sides. "Ah! I cannot understand, Miska. If we are notsure then, are we sure _now?_ It may be"--he bent towards her--"we aretrapped!"

"Oh, what do you mean?"

"We do not know how much they read of what he had written. Why do wewait?"

_"He_ has some plan, Chunda Lal, " replied Miska wearily. "Does heever fail?"

Her words rekindled the Hindu's ardour; his eyes lighted up anew. 

"I tell you his plan, " he whispered tensely. "Oh! you shall hearme! He watch you grow from a little lovely child, as he watch hisdeath-spiders and his grey scorpions grow! He tend you and care foryou and make you perfect, and he plan for you as he plan for thisother creatures. Then, he see what I see, that you are not only hisservant but also a woman and that you have a woman's heart. Helearn--who think he knows all--that he, too, is not yet a spiritbut only a man, and have a man's heart, a man's blood, a man'slongings! It is because of the Doctor Sahib that he learn it----"

He grasped Miska again, but she struggled to elude him. "Oh, let mego!" she pleaded. "It is madness you speak!"

"It is madness, yes--for _you!_ Always I have watched, always I havewaited; and I also have seen you bloom like a rose in the desert. To-night I am here--watching ... And _he_ knows it! Tomorrow I amgone! Do you stay, for--_him?_

"Oh, " she whispered fearfully, "it cannot be. "

"You say true when you say I have been your only friend, Miska. To-morrow _he_ plan that you have no friend. "

He released her, and slowly, from the sleeve of his coat, slipped intoview the curved blade of a native knife. 

_"Ali Khan Bhai Salam!"_ he muttered--by which formula heproclaimed himself a _Thug!_

Rolling his eyes in the direction of the eastern wall, he concealedthe knife. 

"Chunda Lal!" Miska spoke wildly. "I am frightened! Please let me go, and tomorrow----"

"To-morrow!" Chunda Lal raised his eyes, which were alight with theawful light of fanaticism. "For me there may be no tomorrow! _JeyBhowani! Yah Allah!"_

"Oh, _he_ may hear you!" whispered Miska pitifully. "Please go now. I shall know that you are near me, if----"

"And then?"

"I will ask your aid. "

Her voice was very low. 

"And if it is written that I succeed?"

Miska averted her head. 

"Oh, Chunda Lal ... I cannot. "

She hid her face in her hands. 

Chunda Lal stood watching her for a moment in silence, then he turnedtoward the cellar door, and then again to Miska. Suddenly he droppedupon one knee before her, took her hand and kissed it, gently. 

"I am your slave, " he said, his voice shaken with emotion. "For myselfI ask nothing--only your pity. "

He rose, opened the door by which Miska had entered the room and wentdown into the cellars. She watched him silently, half fearfully, yether eyes were filled with compassionate tears. Then, readjusting thehideous grey wig, she went up the steps and passed through the doorwayinto the den of the opium smokers. 

CHAPTER VI

THE MAN WITH THE SCAR

Stuart read through a paper, consisting of six closely written pages, then he pinned the sheets together, folded them and placed them in oneof those long envelopes associated in his memory with the openingphase of "The Scorpion" mystery. Smiling grimly, he descended to hisdispensary and returned with the Chinese coin attached to the cork. With this he sealed the envelope. 

He had volunteered that night for onerous service, and his offer hadbeen accepted. Gaston Max's knowledge of Eastern languages was slight, whilst Stuart's was sound and extensive, and the Frenchman hadcordially welcomed the doctor's proposal that he should accompany himto the house of Ah-Fang-Fu. Reviewing the facts gleaned from Miskaduring the earlier part of the evening, Stuart perceived that, apartfrom the additional light which they shed upon her own relations withthe group, they could be of slight assistance to the immediate successof the inquiry--unless the raid failed. Therefore he had determinedupon the course which now he was adopting. 

As he completed the sealing of the envelope and laid it down upon thetable, he heard a cab drawn up in front of the house, and presentlyMrs. M'Gregor knocked and entered the study. 

"Inspector Dunbar to see you, Mr. Keppel, " she said--"and he has withhim an awful-looking body, all cuts and bandages. A patient, no doubt. "

Stuart stood up, wondering what this could mean. 

"Will you please show them up, Mrs. M'Gregor, " he replied. 

A few moments later Dunbar entered, accompanied by a bearded manwhose head was bandaged so as to partly cover one eye and who had anevil-looking scar running from his cheekbone, apparently--or at anyrate from the edge of the bandage--to the corner of his mouth, so thatthe lip was drawn up in a fierce and permanent snarl. 

At this person Stuart stared blankly, until Dunbar began to laugh. 

"It's a wonderful make-up, isn't it?" he said. "I used to say thatdisguises were out of date, but M. Max has taught me I was wrong. "

"Max!" cried Stuart. 

"At your service, " replied the apparition, "but for this evening onlyI am 'Le Belafre. ' Yes, _pardieu!_ I am a real dead man!"

The airy indifference which he proclaimed himself to represent onewhose awful body had but that day been removed from a mortuary, andone whom in his own words he had "had the misfortune to strangle, "was rather ghastly and at the same time admirable. For "Le Balafre"had deliberately tried to murder him, and false sentiment should formno part of the complement of a criminal investigator. 

"It is a daring idea, " said Stuart, "and relies for its success uponthe chance that 'The Scorpion' remains ignorant of the fate of hisagent and continues to believe that the body found off Hanover Holewas yours. "

"The admirable precautions of my clever colleague, " replied Max, laying his hand upon Dunbar's shoulder, "in closing the mortuary andpublishing particulars of the identification disk, made it perfectlysafe. 'Le Balafre' has been in hiding. He emerges!"

Stuart had secret reasons for knowing that Max's logic was not atfault, and this brought him to the matter of the sealed paper. Hetook up the envelope. 

"I have here, " he said slowly, "a statement. Examine the seal. "

He held it out, and Max and Dunbar looked at it. The latter laughedshortly. 

"Oh, it is a real statement, " continued Stuart, "the nature of whichI am not at liberty to divulge. But as to-night we take risks, Ipropose to leave it in your charge, Inspector. "

He handed the envelope to Dunbar, whose face was blank withastonishment. 

"In the event of failure to-night, " added Stuart, "or catastrophe, Iauthorise you to read this statement--and act upon it. If, however, Iescape safely, I ask you to return it to me, unread. "

_"Eh bien, "_ said Max, and fixed that eye the whole of which wasvisible upon Stuart. "Perhaps I understand, and certainly"--he removedhis hand from Dunbar's shoulder and rested it upon that of Stuart--"but certainly, my friend, I sympathise!"

Stuart started guiltily, but Max immediately turned aside and beganto speak about their plans. 

"In a bag which Inspector Dunbar has thoughtfully left in the cab, "he said----

Dunbar hastily retired and Max laughed. 

"In that bag, " he continued, "is a suit of clothes such as habitues of'The Pidgin House' rejoice to wear. I, who have studied disguisealmost as deeply as the great Willy Clarkson, will transform you intoa perfect ruffian. It is important, you understand, that someoneshould be inside the house of Ah-Fang-Fu, as otherwise by means ofsome secret exit the man we seek may escape. I believe that hecontemplates departing at any moment, and I believe that the visit ofMiguel means that what I may term the masters of the minor lodges arecoming to London for parting instructions--or, of course Miguel mayhave come about the disappearance of 'Le Balafre. '"

"Suppose you meet Miguel!"

"My dear friend, I must trust to the Kismet who pursues evil-doers!The only reason which has led me to adopt this daring disguise is asimple one. Although I believe 'The Pidgin House' to be open toordinary opium-smokers, it may not be open on 'lodge nights. ' Do youfollow me? Very well. I have the golden scorpion--which I suppose tobe a sort of passport. "

Stuart wondered more and more at the reasoning powers of thisremarkable man, which could lead him to such an accurate conclusion. 

"The existence of such a passport, " continued Max, "would seem topoint to the fact that all the members of this organisation are notknown personally to one another. At the same time those invited orexpected at present _may_ be known to Ah-Fang-Fu or to whoever actsas concierge. You see? Expected or otherwise, I assume that 'LeBalafre' would be admitted--and at night I shall pass very well for'Le Balafre'--somewhat damaged as a result of my encounter with thelate Charles Malet, but still recognisable!"

"And I?"

"You will be 'franked' in. The word of 'Le Balafre' should besufficient for that! Of course I may be conducted immediately intothe presence of the Chief--'The Scorpion'--and he may prove to benone other than Miguel, for instance--or my Algerian acquaintance--or may even be a 'she'--the fascinating Zara el-Khala! We do notknow. But I _think_--oh, decidedly I think--that the cowled one is amale creature, and his habits and habitat suggests to me that he is aChinaman. "

"And in that event how shall you act?"

"At once! I shall hold him, if I can, or shoot him if I cannot holdhim! Both of us will blow police-whistles with which we shall beprovided and Inspectors Dunbar and Kelly will raid the premises. But Iam hoping for an interval. I do not like these inartistic scrimmages!The fact that these people foregather at an opium-house suggests to methat a certain procedure may be followed which I observed during thecourse of the celebrated 'Mr. Q' case in New York. 'Mr. Q. ' also hadan audience-chamber adjoining and opium den, and his visitors wentthere ostensibly to smoke opium. The opium-den was a sort of anteroom. "

"Weymouth's big Chinese case had similar features, " said InspectorDunbar, who re-entered at that moment carrying a leathern grip. "Ifyou are kept waiting and you keep your ears open, doctor, that's whenyour knowledge of the lingo will come in useful. We might rope in thewhole gang and find we hadn't a scrap of evidence against them, forexcept the attempt on yourself, Dr. Stuart, there's nothing so farthat I can see to connect 'The Scorpion' with Sir Frank Newcombe!"

"It is such a bungle that I fear!" cried Max. "Ah! how this looped-uplip annoys me!" He adjusted the bandage carefully. 

"We've got the place comfortably surrounded, " continued Dunbar, "andwhoever may be inside is booked! A lady, answering to the descriptionof Mlle. Dorian, went in this evening, so Sowerby reports. "

Stuart felt that he was changing colour, and he stooped hastily toinspect the contents of the bag which Dunbar had opened. 

_"Eh bien!"_ said Gaston Max. "We shall not go empty-handed, then. Andnow to transfigure you, my friend!"

CHAPTER VII

IN THE OPIUM DEN

Interrupting a spell of warm, fine weather the night had set in wetand stormy. The squalid streets through which Stuart and Gaston Maxmade their way looked more than normally deserted and uninviting. Thewind moaned and the rain accompanied with a dreary tattoo. Sometimesa siren wailed out upon the river. 

"We are nearly there, " said Max. _"Pardieu!_ they are well concealed, those fellows. I have not seen so much as an eyebrow. "

"It would be encouraging to get a glimpse of some one!" replied Stuart. 

"Ah, but bad--inartistic. It is the next door, I think ... Yes. I hopethey have no special way of knocking. "

Upon the door of a dark and apparently deserted shop he rapped. 

Both had anticipated an interval of waiting, and both were astonishedwhen the door opened almost at once, revealing a blackly cavernousinterior. 

"Go off! Too late! Shuttee shop!" chattered a voice out of thedarkness. 

Max thrust his way resolutely in, followed by Stuart. "Shut the door, Ah-Fang-Fu!" he said curtly, speaking with a laboured French accent. _"Scorpion!"_

The door was closed by the invisible Chinaman, there was a sound ofsoft movements and a hurricane-lantern suddenly made its appearance. Its light revealed the interior of a nondescript untidy little shopand revealed the presence of an old and very wrinkled Chinaman whoheld the lantern. He wore a blue smock and a bowler hat and his facepossessed the absolute impassivity of an image. As he leaned over thecounter, scrutinising his visitors, Max thrust forward the goldenscorpion held in the palm of his hand. 

_"Hoi, hoi"_ chattered the Chinaman. "Fo-Hi fellers, eh? You hab gotplenty much late. Other fellers Fo-Hi pidgin plenty much sooner. Youone time catchee allee same bhobbery, b'long number one joss-pidginman!"

Being covertly nudged by Max:

"Cut the palaver, Pidgin, " growled Stuart. 

"Allee lightee, " chattered Ah-Fang-Fu, for evidently this was he. "Youplay one piecee pipee till Fo-Hi got. " Raising the lantern, he ledthe way through a door at the back of the shop. Descending fourwooden steps, Stuart and Max found themselves in the opium-den. 

"Full up. No loom, " said the Chinaman. 

It was a low-ceilinged apartment, the beams of the roof slopingslightly upward from west to east. The centre part of the wall at theback was covered with matting hung from the rough cornice supportingthe beams. To the right of the matting was the door communicating withthe shop, and to the left were bunks. Other bunks lined the southerlywall, except where, set in the thickness of the bare brick andplaster, a second strong door was partly hidden by a pile of emptypacking-cases and an untidy litter of straw and matting. 

Along the northern wall were more bunks, and an open wooden stair, with a handrail, ascended to a small landing or platform before athird door high up in the wall. A few mats were strewn about thefloor. The place was dimly lighted by a red-shaded lamp swung fromthe centre of the ceiling and near the foot of the stairs another lamp(of the common tin variety) stood upon a box near which was a brokencane chair. Opium-pipes, tins, and a pack of cards were on this box. 

All the bunks appeared to be occupied. Most of the occupants werelying motionless, but one or two were noisily sucking at theopium-pipes. These had not yet attained to the opium-smokers Nirvana. So much did Gaston Max, a trained observer, gather in one swift glance. Then Ah-Fang-Fu, leaving the lantern in the shop, descended the foursteps and crossing the room began to arrange two mats with roundhead-cushions near to the empty packing-cases. Stuart and Max remainedby the door. 

"You see, " whispered Max, "he has taken you on trust! And he did notappear to recognise me. It is as I thought. The place is 'open to thepublic' as usual, and Ah-Fang-Fu does a roaring trade, one wouldjudge. For the benefit of patrons not affiliated to the order we haveto pretend to smoke. "

"Yes, " replied Stuart with repressed excitement--"until someone calledFo-Hi is at home, or visible; the word 'got' may mean either of thosethings. "

"Fo-Hi, " whispered Max, "is 'The Scorpion!'

"I believe you are right, " said Stuart--who had good reason to know it. "My God! what a foul den! The reek is suffocating. Look at that yellowlifeless face yonder, and see that other fellow whose hand hangslimply down upon the floor. Those bunks might be occupied by corpsesfor all the evidence of life that some of them show. "

_"Morbleu!_ do not raise your voice; for some of them are occupied by'Scorpions. ' You noted the words of Ah-Fang? _Ssh!"_

The old Chinaman returned with his curious shuffling walk, raising hishand to beckon to them. 

"Number one piece bunk, lo!" he chattered. 

"Good enough, " growled Stuart. 

The two crossed and reclined upon the uncleanly mats. 

"Make special loom, " explained Ah-Fang-Fu. "Velly special chop!"

He passed from bunk to bunk, and presently came to a comatose Chinamanfrom whose limp hand, which hung down upon the floor, the pipe haddropped. This pipe Ah-Fang-Fu took from the smoker's fingers andreturning to the box upon which the tin lamp was standing began calmlyto load it. 

"Good heavens!" muttered Stuart--"he is short of pipes! Pah! how theplace reeks!"

Ah-Fang-Fu busied himself with a tin of opium, the pipe which he hadtaken from the sleeper, and another pipe--apparently the last of hisstock--which lay near the lamp. Igniting the two, he crossed andhanded them to Stuart and Max. 

"Velly soon-lo!" he said and made a curious sign, touching his brow, his lips and his breast in a manner resembling that of a Moslem. 

Max repeated the gesture and then lay back upon his elbow, raisingthe mouthpiece of the little pipe to his lips--but carefully avoidingcontact. 

Ah-Fang-Fu shuffled back to the broken cane chair, from which he hadevidently arisen to admit his late visitors. 

Inarticulate sounds proceeded from the bunks, breaking the sinistersilence which now descended upon the den. Ah-Fang-Fu began to playPatience, constantly muttering to himself. The occasional wash oftidal water became audible, and once there came a scampering andsquealing of rates from beneath the floor. 

"Do you notice the sound of lapping water" whispered Stuart. "Theplace is evidently built upon a foundation of piles and the cellarsmust actually be submerged at high-tide. "

_"Pardieu!_ it is a death trap. What is this!"

A loud knocking sounded upon the street door. Ah-Fang-Fu rose andshuffled up the steps into the shop. He could be heard unbarring theouter door. Then:

"Too late! shuttee shop, shuttee shop!" sounded. 

"I don't want nothin' out of your blasted shop, Pidgin!" roared a loudand thick voice. "I'm old Bill Bean, I am, and I want a pipe, I do!"

"Hullo, Bill!" replied the invisible 'Pidgin. ' "Allee samee dlunkagain!"

A red-bearded ship's fireman, wearing sea-boots, a rough blue suitsimilar to that which Stuart wore, a muffler and a peaked cap, lurchedinto view at the head of the steps. 

"Blimey!" he roared, over his shoulder. "Drunk! _Me_ drunk! An' allthe pubs in these parts sell barley-water coloured brown! Blimey! Chuckit, Pidgin!"

Ah-Fang-Fu reappeared behind him. "Catchee dlunk ev'ly time for comeehere, " he chattered. 

"'Taint 'umanly possible, " declared the new arrival, staggering downthe steps, "fer a 'ealthy sailorman to git drunk on coloured waterjust 'cause the publican calls it beer! I ain't drunk; I'm onlymiserable. Gimmee a pipe, Pidgin. "

Ah-Fang-Fu barred the door and ascended. 

"Comee here, " he muttered, "my placee, all full up and no other placeeb'long open. "

Bill Bean slapped him boisterously on the back. 

"Cut the palaver, Pidgin, and gimme a pipe. Piecee pipe, Pidgin!"

He lurched across the floor, nearly falling over Stuart's legs, tookup a mat and a cushion, lurched into the further corner and casthimself down. 

"Ain't I one o' yer oldest customers, Pidgin?" he inquired. "One o'yer oldest, I am. "

"Blight side twelve-time, " muttered the Chinaman. "Getchee me intlouble, Bill. Number one police chop. "

"Not the first time it wouldn't be!" retorted the fireman. "Not thefirst time as you've been in trouble, Pidgin. An' unless they 'ungyer--which it ain't 'umanly possible to 'ang a Chink--it wouldn't bethe last--an' not by a damn long way ... _an'_ not by a damn long way!"

Ah-Fang-Fu, shrugging resignedly, shuffled from bunk to bunk in questof a disused pipe, found one, and returning to the extemporised table, began to load it, muttering to himself. 

"Don't like to 'ear about your wicked past, do you?" continued Bill. "Wicked old yellow-faced 'eathen! Remember the 'dive' in 'Frisco, Pidgin? _Wot_ a rough 'ouse! Remember when I come in--full up I was:me back teeth well under water--an' you tried to Shanghai me?"

"You cutee palaber. All damn lie, " muttered the Chinaman. 

"Ho! a lie is it?" roared the other. "Wot about me wakin' up allof a tremble aboard o' the old _Nancy Lee_--aboard of a blastedwind-jammer! Me--a fireman! Wot about it? Wasn't that Shanghaiin'?Blighter! _An'_ not a 'oat' in me pocket--not a 'bean'! Broke tothe wide an' aboard of a old wind-jammer wot was a coffin-ship--acoffin-ship she was; an' 'er old man was the devil's father-in-law. Ho! lies! I _don't_ think!"

"You cutee palaber!" chattered Ah-Fang-Fu, busy with the pipe. "Youlikee too much chin-chin. You make nice piece bhobbery. "

"Not a 'bean', " continued Bill reminiscently--"not a 'oat. '" He sat upviolently. "Even me pipe an' baccy was gone!" he shouted. "You'd evenpinched me pipe an' baccy! You'd pinch the whiskers off a blind man, _you_ would, Pidgin! 'And over the dope. Thank Gawd somebody's stillthe right stuff!"

Suddenly, from a bunk on the left of Gaston Max came a faint cry. 

"Ah! He has bitten me!"

"'Ullo!" said Bill--"wotcher bin given' _'im, _ Pidgin? _Chandu_ orhydrerphobia?"

Ah-Fang-Fu crossed and handed him the pipe. 

"One piecee pipee. No more hab. "

Bill grasped the pipe eagerly and raised it to his lips. Ah-Fang-Fureturned unmoved to his Patience and silence reclaimed the den, onlybroken by the inarticulate murmuring and the lapping of the tide. 

"A genuine customer!" whispered Max. 

"Ah!" came again, more faintly--"he ... Has ... Bitten ... Me. "

"Blimey!" said Bill in a drowsy voice--"'eave the chair at 'im, Pidgin. "

Stuart was about to speak when Gaston Max furtively grasped his arm. "Ssh!" he whispered. "Do not move, but look ... At the top of thestair!"

Stuart turned his eyes. On the platform at the head of the stairs aHindu was standing!

"Chunda Lal!" whispered Max. "Prepare for--anything!"

"Chunda Lal descended slowly. Ah-Fang-Fu continued to play Patience. The Hindu stood behind him and began to speak in a voice of subduedfervour and with soft Hindu modulations. 

"Why do you allow them, strangers, coming here to-night!"

Ah-Fang-Fu continued complacently to arrange the cards. 

"S'pose hab gotchee pidgin allee samee Chunda Lal hab got? Fo-Hi nocatchee buy bled and cheese for Ah-Fang-Fu. He"--nodding casually inthe direction of Bill Bean--"plitty soon all blissful. "

"Be very careful, Ah-Fang-Fu, " said Chunda Lal tensely. He loweredhis voice. "Do you forget so soon what happen last week?"

"No sabby. "

"Some one comes here--we do not know how close he comes; perhaps hecomes in--and he is of the _police. "_

Ah-Fang-Fu shuffled uneasily in his chair. 

"No police chop for Pidgin!" he muttered. "Same feller tumble inliver?"

"He is killed--yes; but suppose they find the writing he has made!Suppose he has written that it is _here_ people meet together?"

"Makee chit tell my name? Muchee hard luck! Number one police chop. "

"You say Fo-Hi not buying you bread and cheese. Perhaps it is Fo-Hithat save you from hanging!"

Ah-Fang-Fu hugged himself. 

_"Yak pozee!"_ (Very good) he muttered. 

Chunda Lal raised his finger. 

"Be very careful, Ah-Fang-Fu!"

"Allee time velly careful. "

"But admit no more of them to come in, these strangers. "

_"Tchee, tchee!_ Velly ploper. Sometime big feller come in if Pidginpalaber or not. Pidgin never lude to big feller. "

"Your life may depend on it, " said Chunda Lal impressively. "How manyare here?"

Ah-Fang-Fu turned at last from his cards, pointing in threedirections, and, finally, at Gaston Max. 

"Four?" said the Hindu--"how can it be?"

He peered from bunk to bunk, muttering something--a name apparently--after scrutinizing each. When his gaze rested upon Max he started, stared hard, and meeting the gaze of the one visible eye, made thestrange sign. 

Max repeated it; and Chunda Lal turned again to the Chinaman. "Becauseof that drunken pig, " he said, pointing at Bill Bean--"we must wait. See to it that he is the last. "

He walked slowly up the stairs, opened the door at the top anddisappeared. 

CHAPTER VIII

THE GREEN-EYED JOSS

Sinister silence reclaimed the house of Ah-Fang-Fu. And Ah-Fang-Furesumed his solitary game. 

_"He_ recognised 'Le Belafre'" whispered Max--"and was surprised tosee him! So there are three of the gang here! Did you particularlyobserve in which bunks they lay, doctor. _Ssh!"_

A voice from a bunk had commenced to sing monotonously. 

_"Peyala peah, "_ it sang, weird above the murmured accompaniment ofthe other dreaming smokers and the _wash-wash_ of the tide--_"Tomyn-na-peah-Phir Kysee ko kyah ... "_

"He is speaking from an opium-trance, " said Stuart softly. "A nativesong: 'If a cup of wine is drunk, and I have drunk it, what of that?'"

_"Mon Dieu!_ it is uncanny!" whispered Max. _"Brr!_ do you hear thoserats? I am wondering in what order we shall be admitted to the'Scorpion's' presence, or if we shall see him together. "

"He may come in here. "

"All the better. "

"Gimme 'nother pipe, Pidgin, " drawled a very drowsy voice from BillBean's corner. 

Ah-Fang-Fu left his eternal arranging and rearranging of the cards andcrossed the room. He took the opium-pipe from the fireman's limpfingers and returning to the box, refilled and lighted it. Max andStuart watched him in silence until he had handed the second pipe tothe man and returned to his chair. 

"We must be very careful, " said Stuart. "We do not know which are realsmokers and which are not. "

Again there was a weird interruption. A Chinaman lying in one of thebunks began to chant in a monotonous far-away voice:

 _"Chong-liou-chouay Om mani padme hum. "_

"The Buddhist formula, " whispered Stuart. _"He_ is a real smoker. Heavens! the reek is choking me!"

The chant was repeated, the words dying away into a long murmur. Ah-Fang-Fu continued to shuffle the cards. And presently Bill Bean'ssecond pipe dropped from his fingers. His husky voice spoke almostinaudibly. 

"I'm ... Old ... Bill ... Bean ... I ... "

A deep-noted siren hooted dimly. 

"A steamer making for dock, " whispered Max. _"Brr!_ it is a nightmare, this! I think in a minute something will happen. _Ssh!"_

Ah-Fang-Fu glanced slowly around. Then he stood up, raised the lampfrom the table and made a tour of the bunks, shining the light in uponthe faces of the occupants. Max watched him closely, hoping to learnin which bunks the members of 'The Scorpion's' group lay. But he wasdisappointed. Ah-Fang-Fu examined _all_ the bunks and even shone thelight down upon Stuart and Max. He muttered to himself constantly, butseemed to address no one. 

Replacing the lamp on the box, he whistled softly; and:----

"Look!" breathed Max. "The stair again!"

Stuart cautiously turned his eyes toward the open stair. 

On the platform above stood a bent old hag whose witch-eyes weresearching the place keenly! With a curiously lithe step, for all herage, she descended, and standing behind Ah-Fang-Fu tapped him on theshoulder and pointed to the outer door. He stood up and shuffledacross, went up the four steps and unbarred the door. 

_"Tchee, tchee, "_ he chattered. "Pidgin make a look-out. "

He went out and closed the door. 

"Something happens!" whispered Max. 

A gong sounded. 

"Ah!"

The old woman approached the matting curtain hung over a portion ofthe wall, raised it slightly in the centre--where it opened--anddisappeared beyond. 

"You see!" said Stuart excitedly. 

"Yes! it is the audience-chamber of 'The Scorpion'!"

The ancient hag came out again, crossed to a bunk and touched itsoccupant, a Chinaman, with her hand. He immediately shot up andfollowed her. The two disappeared beyond the curtain. 

"What shall we do, " said Stuart, "if _you_ are summoned?"

"I shall throw open those curtains the moment I reach them, andpresent my pistol at the head of whoever is on the other side. You--_ssh!"_

The old woman reappeared, looked slowly around and then held thecurtains slightly apart to allow of the Chinaman's coming out. Hesaluted her by touching his head, lips and breast with his right hand, then passed up to the door communicating with the shop, which heopened, and went out. 

His voice came, muffled:

"Fo-Hi!"

"Fo-Hi, " returned the high voice of Ah-Fang-Fu. 

The outer door was opened and shut. The old woman went up and barredthe inner door, then returned and stood by the matting curtain. Thesound of the water below alone broke the silence. It was the hour ofhigh tide. 

"There goes the first fish into Dunbar's net!" whispered Max. 

The gong sounded again. 

Thereupon the old woman crossed to another bunk and conducted abrown-skinned Eastern into the hidden room. Immediately they haddisappeared:

"As I pull the curtains aside, " continued Max rapidly, "blow thewhistle and run across and unbar the door.... "

So engrossed was he in giving these directions, and so engrossed wasStuart in listening to them, that neither detected a faint creak whichproceeded from almost immediately behind them. This sound wasoccasioned by the slow and cautious opening of that sunken, heavy doornear to which they lay--the door which communicated with the labyrinthof cellars. Inch by inch from the opening protruded the head ofAh-Fang-Fu!

"If the Chinaman offers any resistance, " Max went on, speaking veryrapidly--_"morbleu!_ you have the means to deal with him! In a word, admit the police. _Sh!_ what is that!"

A moaning voice from one of the bunks came. 

_"Cheal kegur-men, mas ka dheer!"_

"A native adage, " whispered Stuart. "He is dreaming. 'There is alwaysmeat in a kite's nest. '"

_"Eh bien!_ very true--and I think the kite is at home!"

The head of Ah-Fang-Fu vanished. A moment later the curtains openedagain slightly and the old woman came out, ushering the brown man. Hesaluted her and unbarred the door, going out. 

"Fo-Hi, " came dimly. 

There was no definite answer--only the sound of a muttered colloquy;and suddenly the brown man returned and spoke to the old woman in avoice so low that his words were inaudible to the two attentivelisteners in the distant corner. 

"Ah!" whispered Max--"what now?"

"Shall we rush the curtain!" said Stuart. 

"No!" Max grasped his arm--"wait! wait! See! he is going out. He hasperhaps forgotten something. A second fish in the net. "

The Oriental went up the steps into the shop. The old woman closedand barred the door, then opened the matting curtain and disappearedwithin. 

"I was right, " said Max. 

But for once in his career he was wrong. 

She was out again almost immediately and bending over a bunk close tothe left of the masked opening. The occupant concealed in its shadowdid not rise and follow her, however. She seemed to be speaking tohim. Stuart and Max watched intently. 

The head of Ah-Fang-Fu reappeared in the doorway behind them. 

"Now is our time!" whispered Max tensely. "As I rush for the curtains, you run to the shop door and get it unbolted, whistling for Dunbar----"

Ah-Fang-Fu, fully opening the door behind them, crept out stealthily. 

"Have your pistol ready, " continued Max, "and first put the whistlebetween your teeth----"

Ah-Fang-Fu silently placed his bowler hat upon the floor, shook downhis long pigtail, and moving with catlike tread, stooping, drew nearer. 

_"Now, doctor!"_ cried Max. 

Both sprang to their feet. Max leapt clear of the matting and otherlitter and dashed for the curtain. He reached it, seized it and torebodily from its fastenings. Behind him the long flat note of a policewhistle sounded--and ended abruptly. 

_"Ah! Nom d'un nom!"_ cried Max. 

A cunningly devised door--looking like a section of solid brick andplaster wall--was closing slowly--heavily. Through the opening whichyet remained he caught a glimpse of a small room, draped with Chinesedragon tapestry and having upon a raised, carpeted dais a number ofcushions forming a _diwan_ and an inlaid table bearing a silver snuffvase. A cowled figure was seated upon the dais. The door closedcompletely. Within a niche in its centre sat a yellow leering idol, green eyed and complacent. 

Wild, gurgling cries brought Max sharply about. 

An answering whistle sounded from the street outside ... A second ... A third. 

Ah-Fang-Fu, stooping ever lower, at the instant that Stuart had sprungto his feet had seized his ankle from behind, pitching him on to hisface. It was then that the note of the whistle had ceased. Now, theChinaman had his long pigtail about Stuart's neck, at which Stuart, prone with the other kneeling upon his body, plucked vainly. 

Max raised his pistol ... And from the bunk almost at his elbow leaptMiguel the quadroon, a sand-bag raised. It descended upon theFrenchman's skull ... And he crumbled up limply and collapsed uponthe floor. There came a crash of broken glass from the shop. 

Uttering a piercing cry, the old woman staggered from the door nearwhich she had been standing as if stricken helpless, during thelightning moments in which these things had happened--and advanced inthe direction of Ah-Fang-Fu. 

"Ah, God! You kill him! You _kill_ him?" she moaned. 

"Through the window, Sowerby! This way!" came Dunbar's voice. "Max!Max!"

The sustained note of a whistle, a confusion of voices and a sound ofheavy steps proclaimed the entrance of the police into the shop andthe summoning of reinforcements. 

Ah-Fang-Fu rose. Stuart had ceased to struggle. The Chinaman replacedhis hat and looked up at the woman, whose eyes glared madly into hisown. 

_"Tche', tche'e, "_ he said sibilantly--_"Tchon-dzee-ti Fan-Fu. *"_

 * "Yes, yes. It is the will of the Master. "

"Down with the door!" roared Dunbar. 

The woman threw herself, with a wild sob, upon the motionless body ofStuart. 

Ensued a series of splintering crashes, and finally the head of anaxe appeared through the panels of the door. Ah-Fang-Fu tried todrag the woman away, but she clung to Stuart desperately and wasimmovable. Thereupon the huge quadroon, running across the room, swept them both up into his giant embrace, man and woman together, and bore them down by the sunken doorway into the cellars below!

The shop door fell inwards, crashing down the four steps, and Dunbarsprang into the place, revolver in hand, followed by Inspector Kellyand four men of the River Police, one of whom carried a hurricanelantern. Ah-Fang-Fu had just descended after Miguel and closed theheavy door. 

"Try this way, boys!" cried Kelly, and rushed up the stair. The fourmen followed him. The lantern was left on the floor. Dunbar staredabout him. Sowerby and several other men entered. Suddenly Dunbar sawGaston Max lying on the floor. 

"My God!" he cried--"they have killed him!"

He ran across, knelt and examined Max, pressing his ear against hisbreast. 

Inspector Kelly reaching the top of the stairs and finding the doorlocked, hurled his great bulk against it and burst it open. 

"Follow me, boys!" he cried. "Take care! Bring the lantern, somebody. "

The fourth man grasped the lantern and all followed the Inspector upthe stair and out through the doorway. His voice came dimly:

"Mind the beam! Pass the light forward.... "

Sowerby was struggling with the door by which Miguel and Ah-Fang-Fuunseen had made their escape and Dunbar, having rested Max's head upona pillow, was glaring all about him, his square jaw set grimly and hiseyes fierce with anger. 

A voice droned from a bunk:

_"Cheal kegur men ms ka-dheer!"_

The police were moving from bunk to bunk, scrutinising the occupants. The uproar had penetrated to them even in their drugged slumbers. There were stirrings and mutterings and movements of yellow hands. 

"But where is 'The Scorpion'?"

He turned and stared at the wall from which the matting had beentorn. And out of the little niche in the cunningly masked door thegreen-eyed joss leered at him complacently. 

PART IV

THE LAIR OF THE SCORPION

CHAPTER I

THE SUBLIME ORDER

Stuart awoke to a discovery so strange that for some time he foundhimself unable to accept its reality. He passed his hands over hisface and eyes and looked about him dazedly. He experienced greatpain in his throat, and he could feel that his neck was swollen. Hestared down at his ankles, which also were throbbing agonisingly--tolearn that they were confined in gyves attached by a short chain toa ring in the floor!

He was lying upon a deep _diwan, _ which was covered with leopard-skinsand which occupied one corner of the most extraordinary room he hadever seen or ever could have imagined. He sat up, but was immediatelyovercome with faintness which he conquered with difficulty. 

The apartment, then, was one of extraordinary Oriental elegance, having two entrances closed with lacquer sliding doors. Chinese lampsswung from the ceiling, illuminated it warmly, and a great number oflarge and bright silk cushions were strewn about the floor. Therewere tapestries in black and gold, rich carpets and couches, severalhandsome cabinets and a number of tall cases of Oriental workmanshipcontaining large and strangely bound books, scientific paraphernalia, curios and ornaments. 

At the further end of the room was a deep tiled hearth in which stooda kind of chemical furnace which hissed constantly. Upon ornate smalltables and pedestals were vases and cases--one of the lattercontaining a number or orchids, in flower. 

Preserved lizards, snakes, and other creatures were in a row of jarsupon a shelf, together with small skeletons of animals in frames. There was also a perfect human skeleton. Near the centre of the roomwas a canopied chair, of grotesque Chinese design, upon a dais, a bigbronze bell hanging from it; and near to the _diwan_ upon which Stuartwas lying stood a large, very finely carved table upon which were someopen faded volumes and a litter of scientific implements. Near thetable stood a very large bowl of what looked like platinum, upon atripod, and several volumes lay scattered near it upon the carpet. From a silver incense-burner arose a pencilling of blue smoke. 

One of the lacquer doors slid noiselessly open and a man entered, Stuart inhaled sibilantly and clenched his fists. 

The new-comer wore a cowled garment of some dark blue material whichenveloped him from head to feet. It possessed oval eye-holes, andthrough these apertures gleamed two eyes which looked scarcely likethe eyes of a human being. They were of that brilliant yellow colorsometimes seen in the eyes of tigers, and their most marked and awfulpeculiarity was their unblinking regard. They seemed always to be opento their fullest extent, and Stuart realized with anger that it wasimpossible to sustain for long the piercing gaze of Fo-Hi ... For heknew that he was in the presence of "The Scorpion"!

Walking with a slow and curious dignity, the cowled figure came acrossto the table, first closing the lacquer door. Stuart's handsconvulsively clutched the covering of the _diwan_ as the sinisterfigure approached. The intolerable gaze of those weird eyes hadawakened a horror, a loathing horror, within him, such as he neverremembered to have experienced in regard to any human being. It wasthe sort of horror which the proximity of a poisonous serpentoccasions--or the nearness of a scorpion.... 

Fo-Hi seated himself at the table. 

Absolute silence reigned in the big room, except for the hissing ofthe furnace. No sound penetrated from the outer world. Having no meansof judging how long he had been insensible, Stuart found himselfwondering if the raid on the den of Ah-Fang-Fu had taken place hoursbefore, days earlier, or weeks ago. 

Taking up a test-tube from a rack on the table, Fo-Hi held it near alamp and examined the contents--a few drops of colourless fluid. Thesehe poured into a curious long-necked yellow bottle. He began to speak, but without looking at Stuart. 

His diction was characteristic, resembling his carriage in that it wasslow and distinctive. He seemed deliberately to choose each word andto give to it all its value, syllable by syllable. His English wasperfect to the verge of the pedantic; and his voice was metallic andharsh, touching at time, when his words were vested with some subtleor hidden significance, guttural depths which betrayed the Chinaman. He possessed uncanny dignity as of tremendous intellect and consciouspower. 

"I regret that you were so rash as to take part in last night'sabortive raid, Dr. Stuart, " he said. 

Stuart started. So he had been unconscious for many hour!

"Because of your professional acquirements at one time I hadcontemplated removing you, " continued the unemotional voice. "But Irejoice to think that I failed. It would have been an error ofjudgement. I have useful work for such men. You shall assist in theextensive laboratories of my distinguished predecessor. "

"Never!" snapped Stuart. 

The man's callousness was so purposeful and deliberate that it awed. He seemed like one who stands above all ordinary human frailties andemotions. 

"Your prejudice is natural, " rejoined Fo-Hi calmly. "You are ignorantof our sublime motives, but you shall nevertheless assist us toestablish that intellectual control which is destined to be the newWorld Force. No doubt you are conscious of a mental hiatus extendingfrom the moment when you found the pigtail of the worthy Ah-Fang-Fuabout your throat until that when you recovered consciousness in thisroom. It has covered a period roughly of twenty-four hours, Dr. Stuart. "

"I don't believe it, " muttered Stuart--and found his own voice toseem as unreal as everything else in the nightmare apartment. "If Ihad not revived earlier, I should never have revived at all. "

He raised his hand to his swollen throat, touching it gingerly. 

"Your unconsciousness was prolonged, " explained Fo-Hi, consulting an open book written in Chinese characters, "by an injection which Ifound it necessary to make. Otherwise, as you remark, it would havebeen prolonged indefinitely. Your clever but rash companion was lesshappy. "

"What!" cried Stuart--"he is dead? You fiend! You damned yellowfiend!" Emotion shook him and he sat clutching the leopard-skins andglaring madly at the cowled figure. 

"Fortunately, " resumed Fo-Hi, "my people--with one exception--succeeded in making their escape. I may add that the needless scufflingattendant upon arresting this unfortunate follower of mine, immediately outside the door of the house, led to the discovery ofyour own presence. Nevertheless, the others departed safely. My owndeparture is imminent; it has been because of certain domestic detailsand by the necessity of awaiting nightfall. You see, I am frank withyou. "

"Because the grave is silent!"

"The grave, and ... China. There is no other alternative in yourcase. "

"Are you sure that there is no other in your own?" asked Stuarthuskily. 

"An alternative to my returning to China? Can you suggest one?"

"The scaffold!" cried Stuart furiously, "for you and the scum whofollow you!"

Fo-Hi lighted a Bunsen burner. 

"I trust not, " he rejoined placidly. "With two exceptions, all mypeople are out of England. "

Stuart's heart began to throb painfully. With two exceptions! DidMiska still remain? He conquered his anger and tried to speak calmly, recognising how he lay utterly in the power of this uncanny being andhow closely his happiness was involved even if he escaped with life. 

"And you?" he said. 

"In these matters, Dr. Stuart, " replied Fo-Hi, "I have alwaysmodelled my behavior upon that of the brilliant scientist whopreceded me as European representative of our movement. Yourbeautiful Thames is my highway as it was his highway. No one of myimmediate neighbours has ever seen me or my once extensive followingenter this house. " He selected an empty test-tube. "No one shall seeme leave. "

The unreality of it all threatened to swamp Stuart's mind again, buthe forced himself to speak calmly. 

"Your own escape is just possible, if some vessel awaits you; but doyou imagine for a moment that you can carry me to China and eludepursuit?"

Fo-Hi, again consulting the huge book with its yellow faded characters, answered him absently. 

"Do you recall the death of the Grand Duke Ivan?" he said. "Does yourmemory retain the name of Van Rembold and has your Scotland Yard yetsatisfied itself that Sir Frank Narcombe died from 'natural causes'?Then, there was Ericksen, the most brilliant European electricalexpert of the century, who died quite suddenly last year. I honoryou, Dr. Stuart, by inviting you to join a company so distinguished. "

"You are raving! What have these men in common with me?"

Stuart found himself holding his breath as he awaited a reply--for heknew that he was on the verge of learning that which poor Gaston Maxhad given his life to learn. A moment Fo-Hi hesitated--and in thatmoment his captive recognised, and shuddered to recognise, that hewon this secret too late. Then:

"The Grand Duke is a tactician who, had he remained in Europe, mightwell have readjusted the frontiers of his country. Van Rembold, as amining engineer, stands alone, as does Henrik Ericksen in theelectrical world. As for Sir Frank Narcombe, he is beyond doubt themost brilliant surgeon of today, and I, a judge of men, count you hispeer in the realm of pure therapeutics. Whilst your studies insnake-poisons (which were narrowly watched for us in India) give youan unique place in toxicology. These great men will be some of yourcompanions in China. "

"In China!"

"In China, Dr. Stuart, where I hope you will join them. Youmisapprehend the purpose of my mission. It is not destructive, although neither I nor my enlightened predecessor have ever scrupledto remove any obstacle from the path of that world-change which nohuman power can check or hinder; it is primarily constructive. Nostate or group of states can hope to resist the progress of a movementguided and upheld by a monopoly of the world's genius. The SublimeOrder, of which I am an unworthy member, stands for such a movement. "

"Rest assured it will be crushed. "

"Van Rembold is preparing radium in quantities hitherto unknown fromthe vast pitchblend deposits of Ho-Nan--which industry we control. Hevisited China arrayed in his shroud, and he travelled in a handsomeEgyptian sarcophagus purchased at Sotherby's on behalf of a Chinesecollector. "

Fo-Hi stood up and crossed to the hissing furnace. He busied himselfwith some obscure experiment which proceeded there, and:

"Your own state-room will be less romantic, Dr. Stuart, " he said, speaking without turning his head; "possibly a packing-case. In brief, that intellectual giant who achieved to much for the Sublime Order--myimmediate predecessor in office--devised a means of inducingartificial catalepsy----"

"My God!" muttered Stuart, as the incredible, the appalling truthburst upon his mind. 

"My own rather hazardous delay, " continued Fo-Hi, "is occasioned insome measure by my anxiety to complete the present experiment. Itsproduct will be your passport to China. "

Carrying a tiny crucible, he returned to the table. 

Stuart felt that his self-possession was deserting him. Madnessthreatened ... If he was not already mad. He forced himself to speak. 

"You taunt me because I am helpless. I do not believe that those menhave been spirited into China. Even if it were so, they would die, asI would die, rather than prostitute their talents to such mad infamy. "

Fo-Hi carefully poured the contents of the crucible into a flatplatinum pan. 

"In China, Dr. Stuart, " he said, "we know how to _make_ men work! Imyself am the deviser of a variant of the unduly notorious _kite_device and the scarcely less celebrated 'Six Gates of Wisdom. ' I termit The Feast of a Thousand Ants. It is performed with the aid ofAfrican driver ant, a pair of surgical scissors and a pot of honey. I have observed you studying with interest the human skeleton yonder. It is that of one of my followers--a Nubian mute--who met with anuntimely end quite recently. You are wondering, no doubt, how Iobtained the frame in so short a time? My African driver ants, Dr. Stuart, of which I have three large cases in a cellar below this room, performed the task for me in exactly sixty-nine minutes. "

Stuart strained frenziedly at his gyves. 

"My God!" he groaned. "All I have heard of you was the merestflattery. You are either a fiend or a madman!"

"When you are enlisted as a member of the Sublime Order, " said Fo-Hisoftly, "and you awaken in China, Dr. Stuart--you will work. We haveno unwilling recruits. "

"Stop your accursed talk. I have heard enough. "

But the metallic voice continued smoothly:

"I appreciate the difficulty which you must experience in grasping thetrue significance of this movement. You have seen mighty nations, armed with every known resource of science, at a deadlock on thebattlefield. You naturally fail to perceive how a group of Orientalphilosophers can achieve what the might of Europe failed to achieve. You will remember, in favour of my claims, that we command theservice of the world's genius, and have a financial backing whichcould settle the national loans of the world! In other words, exhumation of a large percentage of the great men who have died inrecent years would be impossible. Their tombs are empty. "

"I have heard enough. Drug me, kill me; but spare me your confidences. "

"In the crowded foyer of a hotel, " continued Fo-Hi imperturbably, "ofa theatre, of a concert-room; in the privacy of their home, of theiroffice; wherever opportunity offered, I caused them to be touchedwith the point of a hypodermic needle such as this. " He held up asmall hypodermic syringe. 

"It contained a minute quantity of the serum which I am nowpreparing--the serum whose discovery was the crowning achievement ofa great scientist's career (I refer, Dr. Stuart, to my brilliantpredecessor). They were buried alive; but no surgeon in Europe orAmerica would have hesitated to certify them dead. Aided by a groupof six Hindu fanatics, trained as _Lughais_ (grave-diggers), it waseasy to gain access to their resting-places. One had the misfortune tobe cremated by his family--a great loss to my Council. But the othersare now in China, at our headquarters. They are labouring day andnight to bring this war-scarred world under the sceptre of an EasternEmperor. "

"Faugh!" cried Stuart. "The whole of that war-scarred world will standarmed before you!"

"We realise that, doctor; therefore we are prepared for it. We spokeof the Norwegian Henrick Ericksen. This is his most recentcontribution to our armament. "

Fo-Hi rested on long yellow hand upon a kind of model searchlight. 

"I nearly committed the clumsy indiscretion of removing you with thislittle instrument, " he said. "You recall the episode? Ericksen'sDisintegrating Ray, Dr. Stuart. The model, here, possesses a limitedrange, of course, but the actual instrument has a compass of seven anda half miles. It can readily be carried by a heavy plane! One suchplane in a flight from Suez to Port Said, could destroy all theshipping in the Canal and explode every grain of ammunition on eithershore! Since I must leave England to-night, the model must bedestroyed, and unfortunately a good collection of bacilli has alreadysuffered the same fate. "

Placidly, slowly, and unmoved from his habit of unruffled dignity, Fo-Hi placed the model in a deep mortar, whilst Stuart watched himspeechless and aghast. He poured the contents of a large pan into themortar, whereupon a loud hissing sound broke the awesome silence ofthe room and a cloud of fumes arose. 

"Not a trace, doctor!" said the cowled man. "A little preparation ofmy own. It destroys the hardest known substance--with the solitaryexception of a certain clay--in the same way that nitric acid woulddestroy tissue paper. You see I might have aspired to become famousamong safe-breakers. "

"You have preferred to become infamous among murderers!" snappedStuart. 

"To murder, Dr. Stuart, I have never stooped. I am a specialist inselective warfare. When you visit the laboratory of our chief chemistin Kiangsu you will be shown the whole of the armory of the SublimeOrder. I regret that the activities of your zealous and painfullyinquisitive friend, M. Gaston Max, have forced me to depart fromEngland before I had completed my work here. "

"I pray you may never depart, " murmured Stuart. 

Fo-Hi having added some bright green fluid to that in the flat pan, had now poured the whole into a large test-tube, and was holding itin the flame of the burner. At the moment that it reached the boilingpoint it became colourless. He carefully placed the whole of theliquid in a retort to which he attached a condensor. He stood up. 

Crossing to a glass case which rested upon a table near the _diwan_he struck it lightly with his hand. The case contained sand andfragments of rock, but as Fo-Hi struck it, out from beneath the piecesof rock darted black active creatures. 

"The common black scorpion of Southern India, " he said softly. "Itsvenom is the basis of the priceless formula, _F. Katalepsis, _ uponwhich the structure of our Sublime Order rests, Dr. Stuart; hence theadoption of a scorpion as our device. "

He took up a long slender flask. 

"This virus prepared from a glandular secretion of the Chineseswamp-adder is also beyond price. Again-the case upon the pedestalyonder contains five perfect bulbs, three already in flower, as youobserve, of an orchid discovered by our chief chemist in certainforests of Burma. It only occurs at extremely rare intervals--eightyyears or more--and under highly special conditions. If the other twobulbs flower, I shall be enabled to obtain from the blooms a minimumquantity of an essential oil for which the nations of the earth, ifthey knew its properties, would gladly empty their treasuries. Thiscase must at all costs accompany me. "

"Yet because you are still in England, " said Stuart huskily, "Iventure to hope that your devil dreams may end on the scaffold. "

"That can never be, Dr. Stuart, " returned Fo-Hi placidly. "Thescaffold is not for such as I. Moreover, it is a crude and barbaricinstitution which I deplore. Do you see that somewhat peculiarlyconstructed chair, yonder? It is an adaptation, by a brilliant youngchemist of Canton, of Ericksen's Disintegrating Ray. A bell hangsbeside it. If you were seated in that chair and I desire to dismissyou, it would merely be necessary fro me to strike the bell once withthe hammer. Before the vibration of the note had become inaudible youwould be seeking your ancestors among the shades. It is the throne ofthe gods. Such a death is poetic. "

He returned to the table and, observing meticulous care, emptied thefew drops of colourless liquid from the condenser into a test-tube. Holding the tube near a lamp, he examined the contents, then pouredthe liquid into the curious yellow bottle. A faint vapour arose from it. 

"You would scarcely suppose, " he said, "that yonder window opens uponan ivy-grown balcony commanding an excellent view of that picturesqueTudor survival, Hampton Court? I apprehend, however, that the researchesof your late friend, M. Gaston Max, may ere long lead Scotland Yard tomy doors, although there has been nothing in the outward seeming ofthis house, in the circumstances of my tenancy, or in my behavioursince I have--secretly--resided here, to excite local suspicion. "

"Scotland Yard men may surround the house now!" said Stuart viciously. 

"One of the two followers I have retained here with me, watches atthe gate, " replied Fo-Hi. "An intruder seeking to enter by any otherroute, through the hedge, over the wall, or from the river, wouldcause electric bells to ring loudly in this room, the note of the bellsignifying the point of entry. Finally, in the event of such asurprise, I have an exit whereby one emerges at a secret spot on theriver bank. A motor-boat, suitably concealed, awaits me there. "

He placed a thermometer in the neck of the yellow bottle and thebottle in a rack. He directed the intolerable gaze of his awful eyesupon the man who sat, teeth tightly clenched, watching him from the_diwan. _

"Ten minutes of life--in England--yet remain to you, Dr. Stuart. Inten minutes this fluid will have cooled to a temperature of 99 degrees, when I shall be enabled safely make an injection. You will be rebornin Kiangsu. "

Fo-Hi walked slowly to the door whereby he had entered, opened it andwent out. The door closed. 

CHAPTER II

THE LIVING DEATH

The little furnace hissed continuously. A wisp of smoke floated upfrom the incense-burner. 

Stuart sat with his hands locked between his knees, and his gaze setupon the yellow flask. 

Even now he found it difficult to credit the verity of his case. Hefound it almost impossible to believe that such a being as Fo-Hiexisted, that such deeds had been done, were being done, in England, as those of which he had heard from the sinister cowled man. Save forthe hissing of the furnace and the clanking of the chain as he strovewith all his strength to win freedom, that wonderful evil room wassilent as the King's Chamber at the heart of the Great Pyramid. 

His gaze reverted to the yellow flask. 

"Oh, my God!" he groaned. 

Terror claimed him--the terror which he had with difficulty beenfending off throughout that nightmare interview with Fo-Hi. Madnessthreatened him, and he was seized by an almost incontrollable desireto shout execrations--prayers--he knew not what. He clenched his teethgrimly and tried to think, to plan. 

He had two chances:

The statement left with Inspector Dunbar, in which he had mentionedthe existence of a house "near Hampton Court, " and ... Miska. 

That she was one of the two exceptions mentioned by Fo-Hi he feltassured. But was she in this house, and did she know of his presencethere? Even so, had she access to that room of mysteries--of horrors?

And who was the other who remained? Almost certainly it was thefanatical Hindu, Chunda Lal, of whom she had spoken with such palpableterror and who watched her unceasingly, untiringly. _He_ would preventher intervening even if she had power to intervene. 

His great hope, then, was in Dunbar ... For Gaston Max was dead. 

At the coming of that thought, the foul doing to death of the fearlessFrenchman, he gnashed his teeth savagely and strained at the gyvesuntil the pain in his ankles brought out beads of perspiration uponhis forehead. 

He dropped his head into his hands and frenziedly clutched at hishair with twitching fingers. 

The faint sound occasioned by the opening of one of the sliding doorsbrought him sharply upright. 

Miska entered!

She looked so bewilderingly beautiful that terror and sorrow fled, leaving Stuart filled only with passionate admiration. She wore anEastern dress of gauzy shimmering silk and high-heeled gilt Turkishslippers upon her stockingless feet. About her left ankle was a goldbangle, and there was barbaric jewellery upon her arms. She was afigure unreal as all lose in that house of dreams, but a figure solovely that Stuart forgot the yellow flask ... Forgot that less thanten minutes of life remained to him. 

"Miska!" he whispered--"Miska!"

She exhibited intense but repressed excitement and fear. Creeping tothe second door--that by which Fo-Hi had gone out--she pressed herear to the lacquered panel and listened intently. Then, coming swiftlyto the table, she took up a bunch of keys, approached Stuart and, kneeling, unlocked the gyves. The scent of jasmine stole to hisnostrils. 

"God bless you!" he said with stifled ardour. 

She rose quickly to her feet, standing before him with head downcast. Stuart rose with difficulty. His legs were cramped and aching. Hegrasped Miska's hand and endeavoured to induce her to look up. Oneswift glance she gave him and looked away again. 

"You must go--this instant, " she said. "I show you the way. There isnot a moment to lose.... "

"Miska!"

She glanced at him again. 

"You must come with me!"

"Ah!" she whispered--"that is impossible! Have I not told you so?"

"You have told me, but I cannot understand. Here, in England, you arefree. Why should you remain with that cowled monster?"

"Shall I tell you?" she asked, and he could feel how she trembled. "IfI tell you, will you promise to believe me--and to go?"

"Not without you!"

"Ah! no, no! If I tell you that my only chance of life--such alittle, little chance--is to stay, will you go?"

Stuart secured her other hand and drew her toward him, half resisting. 

"Tell me, " he said softly. "I will believe you--and if it can spareyou one moment of pain or sorrow, I will go as you ask me. "

"Listen, " she whispered, glancing fearfully back toward the closeddoor--"Fo-Hi has something that make people to die; and only he canbring them to life again. Do you believe this?"

She looked up at him rapidly, her wonderful eyes wide and fearful. Henodded. 

"Ah! you know! Very well. On that day in Cairo, which I am takenbefore him--you remember, I tell you?--he ... Oh!"

She shuddered wildly and hid her beautiful face against Stuart'sbreast. He threw his arms about her. 

"Tell me, " he said. 

"With the needle, he ... Inject ... "

"Miska!"

Stuart felt the blood rushing to his heart and knew that he had paled. 

"There is something else, " she went on, almost inaudibly, "with whichhe gives life again to those he had made dead with the needle. It isa light green liquid tasting like bitter apples; and once each weekfor six months it must be drunk or else ... The living death comes. Sometimes I have not seen Fo-Hi for six months at a time, but a tinyflask, one draught, of the green liquid, always comes to me whereverI am, every week ... And twice each year I see him--Fo-Hi ... Andhe ... "

Her voice quivered and ceased. Moving back, she slipped a softshoulder free of it s flimsy covering. 

Stuart looked--and suppressed a groan. 

Her arm was dotted with the tiny marks made by a hypodermic syringe!

"You see!" she whispered tremulously. "If I go, I die, and I amburied alive ... Or else I live until my body ... "

"Oh, God!" moaned Stuart--"the fiend! the merciless, cunning fiend!Is there _nothing_ ... "

"Yes, yes!" said Miska, looking up. "If I can get enough of the greenfluid and escape. But he tell me once--it was in America--that heonly prepares one tiny draught at a time! Listen! I must stay, and ifhe can be captured he must be forced to make this antidote ... Ah!go! go!"

Her words ended in a sob, and Stuart held her to him convulsively, his heart filled with such helpless, fierce misery and bitterness ashe had never known. 

"Go, please go!" she whispered. "It is my only chance--there is noother. There is not a moment to wait. Listen to me! You will go bythat door by which I come in. There is a better way, through a tunnelhe has made to the river bank; but I cannot open the door. Only _he_has the key. At the end of the passage some one is waiting----"

"Chunda Lal!" Miska glanced up rapidly and then dropped her eyes again. 

"Yes--poor Chunda Lal. He is my only friend. Give him this. "

She removed an amulet upon a gold chain from about her neck and thrustit into Stuart's hand. 

"It seems to you silly, but Chunda Lal is of the East; and he haspromised. Oh! be quick! I am afraid. I tell you something. Fo-Hidoes not know, but the police Inspector and many men search theriver bank for the house! I see them from a window----"

"What!" cried Stuart--"Dunbar is here!"

_"Ssh! ssh!"_ Miska clutched him wildly. _"He_ is not far away. Youwill go and bring him here. No! for me do not fear. I put the keysback and he will think you have opened the lock by some trick----"

"Miska!"

"Oh, no more!"

She slipped from his arms, crossed and reopened the lacquered door, revealing a corridor dimly lighted. Stuart followed and looked alongthe corridor. 

"Right to the end, " she whispered, "and down the steps. You know"--touching the amulet which Stuart carried--"how to deal with--Chunda Lal. "

But still he hesitated; until she seized his hand and urged him. Thereupon he swept her wildly into his arms. 

"Miska! how can I leave you! It is maddening!"

"You must! you must!"

He looked into her eyes, stooped and kissed her upon the lips. Then, with no other word, he tore himself away and walked quickly along thecorridor. Miska watched him until he was out of sight, thenre-entered the great room and closed the door. She turned, and:

"Oh, God of mercy, " she whispered. 

Just within the second doorway stood Fo-Hi watching her. 

CHAPTER III

THE FIFTH SECRET OF RACHE CHURAN

Stricken silent with fear, Miska staggered back against the lacquereddoor, dropping the keys which she held in her hand. Fo-Hi had removedthe cowled garment and was now arrayed in a rich mandarin robe. Through the grotesque green veil which obscured his features thebrilliant eyes shone catlike. 

"So, " he said softly, "you speed the parting guest. And did I nothear the sound of a chaste salute?"

Miska watched him, wild-eyed. 

"And he knows, " continued the metallic voice, "'how to deal withChunda Lal'? But it may be that Chunda Lal will know how to deal with_him!_ I had suspected that Dr. Keppel Stuart entertained anunprofessional interest in his charming patient. Your failure toforce the bureau drawer in his study excited my suspicion--unjustly, I admit; for did not I fail also when I paid the doctor a personalvisit? True, I was disturbed. But this suspicion later returned. Itwas in order that some lingering doubt might be removed that Iafforded you the opportunity of interviewing my guest. But whateversurprise his ingenuity, aided by your woman's wit, has planned forChunda Lal, I dare to believe that Chunda Lal, being forewarned, willmeet successfully. He is expecting an attempt, by Dr. Stuart, to leavethis house. He has my orders to detain him. "

At that, anger conquered terror in the heart of Miska, and:

"You mean he has your orders to kill him!" she cried desperately. 

Fo-Hi closed the door. 

"On the contrary, he has my orders to take every possible care of him. Those blind, tempestuous passions which merely make a woman moredesirable find no place in the trained mind of the scientist. ThatDr. Stuart covets my choicest possession in no way detracts from hisvalue to my Council. "

Miska had never moved from the doorway by which Stuart had gone out;and now, having listened covertly and heard no outcry, her faith inChunda Lal was restored. Her wonderful eyes narrowed momentarily, andshe spoke with the guile, which seems so naive, of the Oriental woman. 

"I care nothing for him--this Dr. Stuart. But he had done you nowrong----"

"Beyond seeking my death--none. I have already said"--the eyes ofFo-Hi gleamed through the hideous veil--"that I bear him no ill will. "

"But you plan to carry him to China--like those others. "

"I assign him a part in the New Renaissance--yes. In the Deluge thatshall engulf the world, his place is in the Ark. I honor him. "

"Perhaps he rather remain a--nobody--than be so honored. "

"In his present state of imperfect understanding it is quitepossible, " said Fo-Hi smoothly. "But if he refuses to achievegreatness he must have greatness thrust upon him. Van Rembold, I seemto recall, hesitated for some time to direct his genius to the problemof producing radium in workable quantities from the pitchblenddeposits of Ho-Nan. But the _split rod_ had not been applied to thesoles of his feet more than five times ere he reviewed his prejudicesand found them to be surmountable. "

Miska, knowing well the moods of the monstrous being whose unveiledface she had never seen, was not deceived by the suavity of hismanner. Nevertheless, she fought down her terror, knowing how muchmight depend upon her retaining her presence of mind. How much of herinterview with Stuart he had overheard she did not know, nor how muchhe had witnessed. 

"But, " she said, moving away from him, "he does not matter--this one. Forgive me if I think to let him go; but I am afraid----"

Fo-Hi crossed slowly, intercepting her. 

"Ah!" said Miska, her eyes opening widely--"you are going to punishme again! For why? Because I am a woman and cannot always be cruel?"

From its place on the wall Fo-Hi took a whip. At that:

"Ah! no, no!" she cried. "You drive me mad! I am only in part of theEast and I cannot bear it--I cannot bear it! You teach me to be likethe women of England, who are free, and you treat me like the women ofChina, who are slaves. Once, it did not matter. I thought it was apart of a woman's life to be treated so. But now I cannot bear it!"She stamped her foot fiercely upon the floor. "I tell you I cannotbear it!"

Whip in hand, Fo-Hi stood watching her. 

"You release that man--for whom you 'care nothing'--in order that hemay bring my enemies about me, in order that he may hand me over tothe barbarous law of England. Now, you 'cannot bear' so light arebuke as the whip. Here, I perceive, is some deep psychologicalchange. Such protests do not belong to the women of my country; theyare never heard in the _zenana, _ and would provoke derision in the_harems_ of Stambul. 

"You have trained me to know that life in a _harem_ is not life, butonly the existence of an animal. "

"I have trained you--yes. What fate was before you when I intervenedin that Mecca slave-market? You who are 'only in part of the East. 'Do you forget so soon how you cowered there amongst the others, Arabs, Circassians, Georgians, Nubians, striving to veil your beauty fromthose ravenous eyes? From _what_ did I rescue you?"

"And _for_ what?" cried Miska bitterly. "To use me as a lure--and beatme if I failed. "

Fo-Hi stood watching her, and slowly, as he watched, terror grew uponher and she retreated before him, step by step. He made no attempt tofollow her, but continued to watch. Then, raising the whip he brokeit across his knee and dropped the pieces on the floor. 

At that she extended her hands towards him pitifully. 

"Oh! what are you going to do to me!" she said. "Let me go! let me go!I can no more be of use to you. Give me back my life and let me go--et me go and hide away from them all--from all ... The world.... "

Her words died away and ceased upon a suppressed hysterical sob. For, in silence, Fo-Hi stood watching her, unmoved. 

"Oh!" she moaned, and sank cowering upon a _diwan--_ "why do you watchme so!"

"Because, " came the metallic voice, softly--"you are beautiful with abeauty given but rarely to the daughters of men. The Sublime Orderhas acquired many pretty women--for they are potent weapons--but noneso fair as you. Miska, I would make life sweet for you. "

"Ah! you do not mean that!" she whispered fearfully. 

"Have I not clothed you in the raiment of a princess!" continuedFo-Hi. "To-night, at my urgent request, you wear the charming nationalcostume in which I delight to see you. But is there a woman of Paris, of London, of New York, who has such robes, such jewels, suchapartments as you possess? Perhaps the peculiar duties which I haverequired you to perform, the hideous disguises, which you havesometimes been called upon to adopt, have disgusted you. "

Her heart beating wildly, for she did not know this mood but divinedit to portend some unique horror, Miska crouched, head averted. 

"To-night the hour has come to break the whip. To-night the master inme dies. My cloak of wise authority has fallen from me and I offermyself in bondage to _you_, my slave!"

"This is some trap you set for me!" she whispered. 

But Fo-Hi, paying no heed to her words, continued in the same raptvoice:

"Truly have you observed that the Chinese wife is but a slave to herlord. I have said that the relation of master and slave is endedbetween us. I offer you a companionship that signifies absolutefreedom and perfect understanding. Half of all I have--and the worldlies in my grasp--is yours. I offer a throne set upon the SevenMountains of the Universe. Look into my eyes and read the truth. "

But lower and lower she cowered upon the _diwan. _

"No, no! I am afraid!"

Fo-Hi approached her closely and abject terror now had robbed her ofstrength. Her limbs seemed to have become numbed, her tongue clave tothe roof of her mouth. 

"Fear me no more, Miska, " said Fo-Hi. "I _will_ you nothing but joy. The man who has learned the Fifth Secret of Rache Churan--who haslearned how to control his will--holds a power absolute and beyondperfectability. You know, who have dwelt beneath my roof, that thereis no escape from my will. " His calm was terrible, and his glance, through the green veil, was like a ray of scorching heat. His voicesank lower and lower. 

"There is one frailty, Miska, that even the Adept cannot conquer. Itis inherent in every man. Miska, I would not _force_ you to grasp thejoy I offer; I would have you _accept_ it willingly. No! do not turnfrom me! No woman in all the world has ever heard me plead, as Iplead to you. Never before have I _sued_ for favours. Do not turn fromme, Miska. "

Slightly, the metallic voice vibrated, and the ruffling of that giantcalm was a thing horrible to witness. Fo-Hi extended his long yellowhands, advancing step by step until he stood over the cowering girl. Irresistibly her glance was drawn to those blazing eyes which the veilcould not hide, and as she met that unblinking gaze her own eyesdilated and grew fixed as those of a sleep-walker. A moment Fo-Histood so. Then passion swept him from his feet and he seized herfiercely. 

"Your eyes drive me mad!" he hissed. "Your lips taunt me, and I knowall earthly greatness to be a mirage, its conquests visions, and itsfairness dust. I would rather be a captive in your white arms thanthe emperor of heaven! Your sweetness intoxicates me, Miska. A feverburns me up!"

Helpless, enmeshed in the toils of that mighty will, Miska raised herhead; and gradually her expression changed. Fear was smoothed awayfrom her lovely face as by some magic brush. She grew placid; andfinally she smiled--the luresome, caressing smile of the East. Nearerand nearer drew the green veil. Then, uttering a sudden fierceexclamation, Fo-Hi thrust her from him. 

"That smile is not for _me, _ the man!" he cried gutterally. "Ah! Icould curse the power that I coveted and set above all earthly joys!I who boasted that he could control his will--I read in your eyes thatI am _willing_ you to love me! I seek a gift and can obtain but atribute!"

Miska, with a sobbing moan, sank upon the _diwan. _ Fo-Hi stoodmotionless, looking straight before him. His terrible calm wasrestored. 

"It is the bitter truth, " he said--"that to win the world I havebartered the birthright of men; the art of winning a woman's heart. There is much in our Chinese wisdom. I erred in breaking the whip. I erred in doubting my own prescience, which told me that the smilesI could not woo were given freely to another ... And perhaps thekisses. At least I can set these poor frail human doubts at rest. "

He crossed and struck a gong which hung midway between the two doors. 

CHAPTER IV

THE GUILE OF THE EAST

Her beautiful face a mask of anguish, Miska cowered upon the _diwan, _watching the closed doors. Fo-Hi stood in the centre of the greatroom with his back to the entrance. Silently one of the lacqueredpanels slid open and Chunda Lal entered. He saluted the figure ofthe veiled Chinaman but never once glanced in the direction of the_diwan_ from which Miska wildly was watching him. 

Without turning his head, Fo-Hi, who seemed to detect the presenceof the silent Hindu by means of some fifth sense, pointed to a bundleof long rods stacked in a corner of the room. 

His brown face expressionless as that of a bronze statue, Chunda Lalcrossed and took the rods from their place. 

_"Tum samajhte ho?"_ (Do you understand?) said Fo-Hi. Chunda Lalinclined his head. 

_"Main tumhari bat manunga"_ (Your orders shall be obeyed), hereplied. 

"Ah, God! no!" whispered Miska--"what are you going to do?"

"Your Hindustani was ever poor, Miska, " said Fo-Hi. 

He turned to Chunda Lal. 

"Until you hear the gong, " he said in English. 

Miska leapt to her feet, as Chunda Lal, never once glancing at her, went out bearing the rods, and closed the door behind him. Fo-Hiturned and confronted her. 

_"Ta'ala hina_ (come hither), Miska!" he said softly. "Shall I speakto you in the soft Arab tongue? Come to me, lovely Miska. Let me feelhow that sorrowful heart will leap like a captive gazelle. "

But Miska shrank back from him, pale to the lips. 

"Very well. " His metallic voice sank to a hiss. "I employ no force. You shall yield to me your heart as a love offering. Of such motivesas jealousy and revenge you know me incapable. What I do, I do with apurpose. That compassion of yours shall be a lever to cast you intomy arms. Your hatred you shall conquer. "

"Oh, have you no mercy? Is there _nothing_ human in your heart? Did Isay I hate you!"

"Your eyes are eloquent, Miska. I cherish two memories of thosebeautiful eyes. One is of their fear and loathing--of _me;_ the otheris of their sweet softness when they watched the departure of my guest. Listen! Do you hear nothing?"

In an attitude of alert and fearful attention Miska stood listening. Fo-Hi watched her through the veil with those remorseless blazing eyes. 

"I will open the door, " he said smoothly, "that we may more fullyenjoy the protests of one for whom you 'care nothing'--of one whoselips have pressed--your hand. "

He opened the door by which Chunda Lal had gone out and turned againto Miska. Her eyes looked unnaturally dark by contrast with the pallorof her face. 

Chunda Lal had betrayed her. She no longer doubted it. For he had notdared to meet her glance. His fear of Fo-Hi had overcome his love forher ... And Stuart had been treacherously seized somewhere in thecorridors and rendered helpless by the awful art of the thug. 

"There is a brief interval, " hissed the evil voice. "Chunda Lal issecuring him to the frame and baring the soles of his feet for thecaresses of the rod. "

Suddenly, from somewhere outside the room, came the sound of dull, regular blows ... Then, a smothered moan!

Miska sprang forward and threw herself upon her knees before Fo-Hi, clutching at his robe frantically. 

"Ah! merciful God! he is there! Spare him! spare him! No more--nomore!"

"He is there?" repeated Fo-Hi suavely. "Assuredly he is there, Miska. I know not by what trick he hoped to 'deal with' Chunda Lal. But, asI informed you, Chunda Lal was forewarned. "

The sound of blows continued, followed by that of another, loudergroan. 

"Stop him! Stop him!" shrieked Miska. 

"You 'care nothing' for this man. Why do you tremble?"

"Oh!" she wailed piteously. "I cannot bear it ... Oh, I cannot bearit! Do what you like with me, but spare him. Ah! you have no mercy. "

Fo-Hi handed her the hammer for striking the gong. 

"It is _you_ who have no mercy, " he replied. "I have asked but onegift. The sound of the gong will end Dr. Stuart's discomfort ... Andwill mean that you _voluntarily_ accept my offer. What! you hesitate?"A stifled scream rang out sharply. 

"Ah, yes! yes!"

Miska ran and struck the gong, then staggered back to the _diwan_ andfell upon it, hiding her face in her hands. The sounds of tortureceased. 

Fo-Hi closed the door and stood looking at her where she lay. 

"I permit you some moments of reflection, " he said, "in order that youmay compose yourself to receive the addresses which I shall presentlyhave the honour, and joy, of making to you. Yes--this door isunlocked. " He threw the keys on the table. "I respect your promise ... And Chunda Lal guards the _outer_ exits. "

He opened the further door, by which he had entered, and went out. 

Miska, through the fingers of her shielding hands, watched him go. 

When he had disappeared she sprang up, clenching her teeth, and herface was contorted with anguish. She began to move aimlessly about theroom, glancing at the many strange objects on the big table andfearfully at the canopied chair beside which hung the bronze bell. Finally:

"Oh, Chunda Lal! Chunda Lal!" she moaned, and threw herself facedownward on the _diwan, _ sobbing wildly. 

So she lay, her whole body quivering with the frenzy of her emotions, and as she lay there, inch by inch, cautiously, the nearer door beganto open. Chunda Lal looked in. 

Finding the room to be occupied only by Miska, he crossed rapidly tothe _diwan, _ bending over her with infinite pity and tenderness. 

"Miska!" he whispered softly. 

As though an adder had touched her, Miska sprang to her feet--andback from the Hindu. Her eyes flashed fiercely. 

"Ah! _you! you!"_ she cried at him, with a repressed savagery thatspoke of the Oriental blood in her veins. "Do not speak to me--lookat me! Do not come near me! I hate you! God! how I hate you!"

"Miska! Miska!" he said beseechingly--"you pierce my heart! you killme! Can you not understand----"

"Go! go!"

She drew back from him, clenching and unclenching her jewelled fingersand glaring madly into his eyes. 

"Look, Miska!" He took the gold chain and amulet from his bosom. "Yourtoken! Can you not understand! _Yah Allah!_ how little you trust me--and I would die for one glance of your eyes!

"_He_--Stuart Sahib--has gone, gone long since!"

"Ah! Chunda Lal!"

Miska swayed dizzily and extended her hands towards him. Chunda Lalglanced fearfully about him. 

"Did I not, " he whispered, with an intense ardour in his soft voice, --"did I not lay my life, my service, all I have, at your feet? Did I notvow to serve you in the name of _Bhowani!_ He is long since gone tobring his friends--who are searching from house to house along theriver. At any moment they may be here!"

Miska dropped weakly upon her knees before him and clasped his hand. 

"Chunda Lal, my friend! Oh, forgive me!" Her voice broke. "Forgive ... "

Chunda Lal raised her gently. 

"Not upon your knees to _me, _ Miska. It was a little thing to do--foryou. Did I not tell you that _he_ had cast his eyes upon you? Mine wasthe voice you heard to cry out. Ah! you do not know; it is to gain_time_ that I seem to serve _him!_ Only this, Miska"--he revealed theblade of a concealed knife--"stand between Fo-Hi and--you! Had I notread it in his eyes!"

He raised his glance upward frantically. 

_"Jey Bhowani!_ give me strength, give me courage! For if I fail ... "

He glared at her passionately, clutching his bosom; then, pressing thenecklet to his lips, he concealed it again, and bent, whisperingurgently:

"Listen again--I reveal it to you without price or hope of reward, forI know there is no love in your heart to give, Miska; I know that ittakes you out of my sight for always. But I tell you what I learn inthe house of Abdul Rozan. Your life is your own, Miska! With theneedle"--yet closer he bent to her ear and even softer he spoke--"hepricks your white skin--no more! The vial he sends contains a harmlesscordial!"

"Chunda Lal!"

Miska swayed again dizzily, clutching at the Hindu for support. 

"Quick! fly!" he said, leading her to the door. "I will see _he_ doesnot pursue!"

"No, no! you shall shed no blood for me! Not even _his_. You comealso!"

"And if he escape, and know that I was false to him, he will _call meback, _ and I shall be dragged to those yellow eyes, though I am athousand miles away! _Inshalla!_ those eyes! No--I must strike swift, or he robs me of my strength. "

For a long moment Miska hesitated. 

"Then, I also remain, Chunda Lal, my friend! We will wait--and watch-and listen for the bells--here--that tell they are in the grounds ofthe house. "

"Ah, Miska!" the glance of the Hindu grew fearful--"you areclever--but _he_ is the Evil One! I fear for you. Fly now. There isyet time ... "

A faint sound attracted Miska's attention. Placing a quivering fingerto her lips, she gently thrust Chunda Lal out into the corridor. 

"He returns!" she whispered: "If I call--come to me, my friend. But wehave not long to wait!"

She closed the door. 

CHAPTER V

WHAT HAPPENED TO STUART

Stuart had gained the end of the corridor, unmolested. There he founda short flight of steps, which he descended and came to a secondcorridor forming a right angle with the first. A lamp was hung at thefoot of the steps, and by its light he discerned a shadowy figurestanding at the further end of this second passage. 

A moment he hesitated, peering eagerly along the corridor. The manwho waited was Chunda Lal. Stuart approached him and silently placedin his hand the gold amulet. 

Chunda Lal took it as one touching something holy, and raising it hekissed it with reverence. His dark eyes were sorrowful. Long andardently he pressed the little trinket to his lips, then concealed itunder the white robe which he wore and turned to Stuart. His eyes weresorrowful no more, but fierce as the eyes of a tiger. 

"Follow!" he said. 

He unlocked a door and stepped out into a neglected garden, Stuartclose at his heels. The sky was cloudy, and the moon obscured. Neverglancing back, Chunda Lal led the way along a path skirting a highwall upon which climbing fruit trees were growing until they came to asecond door and this also the Hindu unlocked. He stood aside. 

"To the end of this lane, " he said, in his soft queerly modulatedvoice, "and along the turning to the left to the river bank. Followthe bank towards the palace and you will meet them. "

"I owe you my life, " said Stuart. 

"Go! you owe me nothing, " returned the Hindu fiercely. 

Stuart turned and walked rapidly along the lane. Once he glanced back. Chunda Lal was looking after him ... And he detected something thatgleamed in his hand, gleamed not like gold but like the blade of aknife!

Turning the corner, Stuart began to run. For he was unarmed and stillweak, and there had been that in the fierce black eyes of the Hinduwhen he had scorned Stuart's thanks which had bred suspicion anddistrust. 

From the position of the moon, Stuart judged the hour to be somethingafter midnight. No living thing stirred about him. The lane in whichnow he found himself was skirted on one side by a hedge beyond whichwas open country and on the other by a continuation of the high wallwhich evidently enclosed the grounds of the house that he had justquitted. A cool breezed fanned his face, and he knew that he wasapproaching the Thames. Ten more paces and he came to the bank. 

In his weak condition the short run had exhausted him. His bruisedthroat was throbbing painfully, and he experienced some difficulty inbreathing. He leaned up against the moss-grown wall, looking back intothe darkness of the lane. 

No one was in sight. There was no sound save the gently lapping of thewater upon the bank. 

He would have like to bathe his throat and to quench his feverishthirst, but a mingled hope and despair spurred him and he set offalong the narrow path towards where dimly above some trees he coulddiscern in the distance a group of red-roofed buildings. Havingproceeded for a considerable distance, he stood still, listening forany sound that might guide him to the search-party--or warn him thathe was followed. But he could hear nothing. 

Onward he pressed, not daring to think of what the future held forhim, not daring to dwell upon the memory, the maddening sweetness, ofthat parting kiss. His eyes grew misty, he stumbled as he walked, andbecame oblivious of his surrounding. His awakening was a rude one. 

Suddenly a man, concealed behind a bush, sprang out upon him and borehim irresistibly to the ground!

"Not a word!" rapped his assailant, "or I'll knock you out!"

Stuart glared into the red face lowered so threateningly over his own, and:

"Sergeant Sowerby!" he gasped. 

The grip upon his shoulders relaxed. 

"Damn!" cried Sowerby--"if it isn't Dr. Stuart?"

"What is that!" cried another voice from the shelter of the bush. _"Pardieu!_ say it again! ... Dr. Stuart!"

And Gaston Max sprang out!

"Max!" murmured Stuart, staggering to his feet--"Max!"

_"Nom d'un nom!_ Two dead men meet!" exclaimed Gaston Max. "Butindeed"--he grasped Stuart by both hands and his voice shook withemotion--"I thank God that I see you!"

Stuart was dazed. Words failed him, and he swayed dizzily. 

"I thought _you_ were murdered, " said Max, still grasping his hand, "and I perceive that you had made the same mistake about me! Do youknow what saved me, my friend, from the consequences of that frightfulblow? It was the bandage of 'Le Balafre'!"

"You must possess a skull like a negro's!" said Stuart feebly. 

"I believe I have a skull like a baboon!" returned Max, laughing withjoyous excitement. "And you, doctor, you must possess a steelwind-pipe; for flesh and blood could never have survived the pressureof that horrible pigtail. You will rejoice to learn that Miguel wasarrested on the Dover boat-train this morning and Ah-Fang-Fu atTilbury Dock some four hours ago. So we are both avenged! But wewaste time!"

He unscrewed a flask and handed it to Stuart. 

"A terrible experience has befallen you, " he said. "But tell me--doyou know where it is--the lair of 'The Scorpion'?"

"I do!" replied Stuart, having taken a welcome draught from the flask. "Where is Dunbar? We must carefully surround the place or he willelude us. "

"Ah! as he eluded us at 'The Pidgin House'!" cried Max. "Do you knowwhat happened? They had a motorboat in the very cellar of that warren. At high tide they could creep out into the cutting, drawing theircraft along from pile to pile, and reach the open river at a pointfifty yards above the house! In the damnable darkness they escaped. But we have two of them. "

"It was all my fault, " said Sowerby guiltily. "I missed my spring whenI went for the Chinaman who came out first, and he gave one yell. Theold fox in the shop heard it and the fat was in the fire. "

"You didn't miss your spring at me!" retort Stuart ruefully. 

"No, " agreed Sowerby. "I didn't mean to miss a second time!"

"What's all this row, " came a gruff voice. 

"Ah! Inspector Dunbar!" said Max. 

Dunbar walked up the path, followed by a number of men. At first hedid not observe Stuart, and:

"You'll be waking all the neighborhood, " he said. "It's the next bighouse, Sowerby, the one we thought, surrounded by the brick wall. There's no doubt, I think ... Why!"

He had seen Stuart, and he sprang forward with outstretched hand. 

"Thank God!" he cried, disregarding his own counsel about creating adisturbance. "This is fine! Eh, man! but I'm glad to see you!"

"And _I_ am glad to be here!" Stuart assured him. 

They shook hands warmly. 

"You have read my statement, of course?" asked Stuart. 

"I have, " replied the Inspector, and gave him a swift glance of thetawny eyes. "And considering that you've nearly been strangled, I'llforgive you! But I wish we'd known about this house----"

"Ah! Inspector, " interrupted Gaston Max, "but you have never seenZara el-Khala! I have seen her--and _I_ forgive him, also!"

Stuart continued rapidly:

"We have little time to waste. There are only three people in thehouse, so far as I am aware: Miska--known to you, M. Max, as Zarael-Khala--the Hindu, Chunda Lal, and--Fo-Hi----"

"Ah!" cried Max--"'The Scorpion. ' Chunda Lal, for some obscure personalreason, not entirely unconnected with Miska, enabled me to make myescape in order that I might lead you to the house. Therefore we maylook upon Chunda Lal, as well as Miska, in the light of anaccomplice----"

_"Eh, bien!_ a spy in the camp! This is where we see how fatal to thesuccess of any enterprise, criminal or otherwise, is the presence ofa pretty woman! Proceed, my friend!"

"There are three entrances to the apartment in which Fo-Hi apparentlyspends the greater part of his time. Two of these I know, although Iam unaware where one of them leads to. But the third, of which healone holds the key, communicates with a tunnel leading to the riverbank, where a motorboat is concealed. "

"Ah, that motor-boat!" cried Max. "He travels at night, youunderstand----"

"Always, I am told. "

"Yes, always. Therefore, once he is out on the river, he is moderatelysecure between the first lock and the Nore! When a police patrol isnear he can shut off his engine and lie under the bank. Last night hecrept away from us in that fashion. Tonight is not so dark, and theRiver Police are watching all the way down. "

"Furthermore, " replied Stuart, "Chunda Lal, who acts as engineer, hasit in his power to prevent Fo-Hi's escape by that route! But we mustcount upon the possibility of his attempting to leave by water. Therefore, in disposing your forces, place a certain number of menalong the bank and below the house. Is there a River Police boat near?"

"Not nearer than Putney Bridge, " answered Dunbar. "We shall have totry and block that exit. "

"There's no time to waste, " continued Stuart excitedly--"and I have avery particular request to make: that you will take Fo-Hi _alive. "_

"But of course, " said Gaston Max, "if it is humanly possible. "

Stuart repressed a groan; for even so he had little hope of inducingthe awful veiled man to give back life to the woman who would havebeen instrumental in bringing him to the scaffold ... And nocompromise was possible!

"If you will muster your men, Inspector, " he said, "I will lead youto the spot. Once we have affected an entrance we must proceed withdispatch. He has alarm-bells connected with every possible point ofentry. "

"Lead on, my friend, " cried Gaston Max. "I perceive that time isprecious. "

CHAPTER VI

"JEY BHOWANI!"

As the door closed upon Chunda Lal, Miska stepped back from it andstood, unconsciously, in a curiously rigid and statuesque attitude, her arms pressed to her sides and her hands directed outward. It wasthe physical expression of an intense mental effort to gain controlof herself. Her heart was leaping wildly in her breast--for thefuture that had held only horror and a living tomb, now opened outsweetly before her. She had only to ply her native wiles for a fewprecious moments ... And _someone_ would have her in his arms, tohold her safe from harm! If the will of the awful Chinaman threatenedto swamp her individuality, then--there was Chunda Lal!

But because of his helpless, unselfish love, she hesitated even at theprice of remaining alone again with Fo-Hi, to demand any furthersacrifice of the Hindu. Furthermore--he might fail!

The lacquer door slid noiselessly open and Fo-Hi entered. He paused, watching her. 

"Ah, " he said, in that low-pitched voice which was so terrifying--"a_gaziyeh_ of Ancient Egypt! How beautiful you are, Miska! Youtransport me to the court of golden Pharaoh. Miska! daughter of themoon-magic of Isis--Zara el-Khala! At any hour my enemies may beclamoring at my doors. But _this_ hour is mine!"

He moved at his customary slow gait to the table, took up the keys ... And locked both doors!

Miska, perceiving in this her chance of aid from Chunda Lal utterlydestroyed, sank slowly upon the _diwan, _ her pale face expressing theutmost consternation. Suppose the police did not come!

Fo-Hi dropped the keys on the table again and approached her. Shestood up, retreating before him. He inhaled sibilantly and paused. 

"So your 'acceptance' was only a trick, " he said. "Your loathing ofmy presence is as strong as ever. Well!" At the word, as a volcanoleaps into life, the hidden fires which burned within this terribleman leapt up consumingly--"if the gift of the flower is withheld, atleast I will grasp the Dead Sea Fruit!"

He leapt toward Miska--and she fled shrieking before him. Runningaround a couch which stood near the centre of the room, she sprang tothe door and beat upon it madly. 

"Chunda Lal!" she cried--"Chunda Lal!"

Fo-Hi was close upon her, and she turned striving to elude him. 

"Oh, merciful God! _Chunda Lal!"_

The name burst from her lips in a long frenzied scream. Fo-Hi hadseized her!

Grasping her shoulders, he twisted her about so that he could lookinto her eyes. A low, shuddering cry, died away, and her gaze becameset, hypnotically, upon Fo-Hi. He raised one hand, fingersoutstretched before her. She swayed slightly. 

"Forget!" he said in a deep, guttural voice of command--"forget. I_will_ it. We stand in an empty world, you and I; you, Miska, and I, Fo-Hi, your master. "

"My master, " she whispered mechanically. 

"Your lover. "

"My lover. "

"You give me your life, to do with as I will. "

"As you will. "

Fo-Hi momentarily raised the blazing eyes. 

"Oh, empty shell of a vanished joy!" he cried. 

Then, frenziedly grasping Miska by her arms, he glared into herimpassive face. 

"Your heart leaps wildly in your breast!" he whispered tenderly. "Look into my eyes.... "

Miska sighed and opened her eyes yet more widely. She shuddered and aslow smile appeared upon her lips. 

The lacquer screen making the window was pushed open and Chunda Lalleapt in over the edge. As Fo-Hi drew the yielding, hypnotised girltowards him, Chunda Lal, a gleaming _kukri_ held aloft, ran with asilent panther step across the floor. 

He reached Fo-Hi, drew himself upright; the glittering bladequivered ... And Fo-Hi divined his presence. 

Uttering a short, guttural exclamation, he thrust Miska aside. Shestaggered dazedly and fell prone upon the floor. The quivering bladedid not descend. 

Fo-Hi drew himself rigidly upright, extending his hands, palmsdownward, before him. He was exerting a superhuman effort. The breathwhistled through his nostrils. Chunda Lal, knife upraised, endeavoredto strike; but his arm seemed to have become incapable of movementand to be held, helpless, aloft. 

Staring at the rigid figure before him, he began to pant like a manengaged in a wrestle for life. 

Fo-Hi stretched his right arm outward, and with a gesture of hand andfingers beckoned to Chunda Lal to come before him. 

And now, Miska, awakening as from a fevered dream, looked wildly abouther, and then, serpentine, began to creep to the table upon which thekeys were lying. Always watching the awful group of two, she roseslowly, snatched the keys and leapt across to the open window.... 

Chunda Lal, swollen veins standing out cord-like on his brow, hisgaze set hypnotically upon the moving hand, dropped his knife andbegan to move in obedience to the will of Fo-Hi. 

As he came finally face to face with the terrible Adept of RacheChuran, Miska disappeared into the shadow of the balcony. Fo-Hi byan imperious gesture commanded Chunda Lal to kneel and bow his head. The Hindu, gasping, obeyed. 

Thereupon Fo-Hi momentarily relaxed his giant concentration and almoststaggered as he glared down at the kneeling man. But never was thatdreadful gaze removed from Chunda Lal. And now the veiled man drewhimself rigidly upright again and stepped backward until the fallen_kukri_ lay at his feet. He spoke, "Chunda Lal!"

The Hindu rose, gazing before him with unseeing eyes. His foreheadwas wet with perspiration. 

Fo-Hi pointed to the knife. 

Chunda Lal, without removing his sightless gaze from the veiledface, stooped, groped until he found the knife and rose with it inhis hand. 

Back stepped Fo-Hi, and back, until he could touch the big table. Hemoved a brass switch--and a trap opened in the floor behind ChundaLal. Fo-Hi raised his right hand, having the fingers tightly closedas if grasping the hilt of a knife. With his left hand he pointed tothe trap. Again he spoke. 

_"Tum samauhe ho?"_

Mechanically Chunda La replied:

_"Ah, Sahib, tumhara huken jaldi: kiya' jaega'"_ (Yes, I hear andobey. )

As Fo-Hi raised his clenched right hand, so did Chunda Lal raise the_kukri. _ Fo-Hi extended his left hand rigidly towards the Hindu andseemed to force him, step by step, back towards the open trap. Almostat the brink, Chunda Lal paused, swayed, and began to utter short, agonised cries. Froth appeared upon his lips. 

Raising his right hand yet further aloft, Fo-Hi swiftly brought itdown, performing the gesture of stabbing himself to the heart. Hisghastly reserve deserted him. 

_"Jey Bhowana!"_ he screamed--"Yah Allah!"

Chunda Lal, uttering a loud groan, stabbed himself and fell backwardinto the opening. Ensued a monstrous crash of broken glass. 

As he fell, Fo-Hi leapt to the brink of the trap, glaring down madlyinto the cellar below. His yellow fingers opened and closedspasmodically. 

"Lie there, " he shrieked--"my 'faithful' servant! The ants shall pickyour bones!"

He grasped the upstanding door of the trap and closed it. Itdescended with a reverberating boom. Fo-Hi raised his clenched fistsand stepped to the door. Finding it locked, he stood looking towardthe open screen before the window. 

"Miska!" he whispered despairingly. 

He crossed to the window and was about to look out, when ahigh-pitched electric bell began to ring in the room. 

Instantly Fo-Hi closed the screen and turned, looking in the directionfrom whence the sound of ringing proceeded. As he did so, a secondbell, in another key, began to ring--a third--a fourth. 

Momentarily the veiled man exhibited evidence of indecision. Then, from beneath his robe he took a small key. Approaching an ornatecabinet set against the wall to the left of one of the lacquer doors, he inserted the key in a hidden lock, and slid the entire cabinetpartly aside revealing an opening. 

Fo-Hi bent, peering down into the darkness of the passage below. Amuffled report came, a flash out of the blackness of the river tunnel, and a bullet passed through the end of the cabinet upon which hishand was resting, smashing an ivory statuette and shattering the glass. 

Hurriedly he slid the cabinet into place again and stood with his backto it, arms outstretched. 

"Miska!" he said--and a note of yet deeper despair had crept into theharsh voice. 

Awhile he stood thus; then he drew himself up with dignity. The bellshad ceased. 

Methodically Fo-Hi began to take certain books from the shelves and tocast them into the great metal bowl which stood upon the tripod. Intothe bowl he poured the contents of a large glass jar. Flames andclouds of smoke arose. He paused, listening. 

Confused voices were audible, seemingly from all around him, togetherwith a sound of vague movements. 

Fo-Hi took up vials and jars and dashed them to pieces upon the tiledhearth in which the furnace rested. Test-tubes, flasks and retorts heshattered, and finally, raising the large glass case of orchids hedashed it down amid the debris of the other nameless and pricelessmonstrosities unknown to Western science. 

CHAPTER VII

THE WAY OF A SCORPION

A black cloud swept past the face of the moon and cold illuminationflooded the narrow lane and patched with light the drive leading upto the front of the isolated mansion. Wrought-iron gates closed bothentrances and a high wall, surmounted by broken glass and barbedwire, entirely surrounded the grounds. 

"This one also is locked, " said Gaston Max, trying the gate and thenpeering through the bars in the direction of the gloomy house. 

All the visible windows were shuttered. No ray of light showedanywhere. The house must have been pronounced deserted by anyonecontemplating it. 

"Upon which side do you suppose the big room to be?" asked Max. 

"It is difficult to judge, " replied Stuart. "But I am disposed tobelieve that it is in the front of the house and on the first floor, for I traversed a long corridor, descended several stairs, turned tothe right and emerged in a part of the garden bordering the lane inwhich Inspector Kelly is posted. "

"I was thinking of the window and the balcony which 'The Scorpion'informed you commanded a view of Hampton Court. Hampton Court, " heturned half-left, "lies about yonder. Therefore you are probablyright, doctor; the room as you say should be in front of the house. Since we do not know how to disconnect the alarms, once we haveentered the grounds it is important that we should gain access to thehouse immediately. Ah! _morbleu!_ the moon disappears again!"

Darkness crept over the countryside. 

"There is an iron balcony jutting out amongst the ivy just above andto the right of the porch!" cried Stuart, who had also been peeringup the moon-patched drive. "I would wager that that is the room!"

"Ah!" replied Max, "I believe you are right. This, then is how weshall proceed: Inspector Kelly, with the aid of two men, can get overthe wall near that garden door by which you came out. If they cannotforce it from inside, you also must get over and lead the way to theentrance you know of. Sowerby and two more men will remain to watchthe lane. The river front is well guarded. We will post a man hereat this gate and one at the other. Dunbar and I will climb this oneand rush straight for that balcony which we must hope to reach by climbing up the ivy. Ah! here comes Inspector Dunbar ... And_someone_ is with him!"

Dunbar appeared at the double around the corner of the lane whichled riverward, and beside him ran a girl who presented a bizarrefigure beside the gaunt Scotsman and a figure wildly out of placein that English riverside setting. 

It was Miska, arrayed in her flimsy _harem_ dress!

"Miska!" cried Stuart, and sprang towards her, sweeping her hungrilyinto his arms--forgetful of, indifferent to, the presence of Max andDunbar. 

"Ah!" sighed the Frenchman--"yes, she is beautiful!"

Trembling wildly, Miska clung to Stuart and began to speak, herEnglish more broken than ever, because of her emotion. 

"Listen--quick!" she panted. "Oh! do not hold me so tight. I have thehouse-keys--look!"--she held up a bunch of keys--"but not the keys ofthe gates. Two men have gone to the end of the tunnel where the boatis hid beside the river. Someone--he better climb this gate and by theivy he can reach the room in which Fo-Hi is! I come down so. You donot see me because the moon goes out and I run to the side-door. Itis open. _You_ come with me!"

She clung to Stuart, looking up into his eyes. 

"Yes, yes, Miska!"

"Oh! Chunda Lal"--she choked down a sob. "Be quick! be quick! _He_will kill him! he will kill him!"

"Off you go, doctor!" cried Max. "Come along, Dunbar!"

He began to climb the ironwork of the gate. 

"This way!" said Miska, dragging Stuart by the arm. "Oh! I am wildwith fear and sorrow and joy!"

"With joy, dear little Miska!" whispered Stuart, as he followed her. 

They passed around the bend into the narrower lane which led towardthe river and upon which the garden-door opened. Stuart detained her. If the fate of the whole world had hung in the balance--as indeed, perhaps it did--he could not have acted otherwise. He raised herbewitching face and kissed her ardently. 

She trembled and clung to him rapturously. 

"I _live_!" she whispered. "Oh! I am mad with happiness! It is ChundaLal that gives me life--for he tells me the truth. It is not with theliving-death that _he_ touches me; it is a trick, it is all a trickto bind me to him! Oh, Chunda Lal! Hurry! he is going to kill him!"

But supreme above all the other truths in the world, the joyous truththat Miska was to live set Stuart's heart on fire. 

"Thank God!" he said fervently--"oh, thank God! Miska!"

At the garden-door a group of men awaited them. Sergeant Sowerby andtwo assistants remaining to watch the entrance and the lane, Miskaled Stuart and the burly Inspector Kelly along that path beside thewall which Stuart so well remembered. 

"Hurry!" she whispered urgently. "We must try to reach him before ... "

"You fear for Chunda Lal?" said Stuart. 

"Oh, yes! He has a terrible power--Fo-Hi--which he never employs withme, until to-night. Ah! it is only Chunda Lal, who saved me! ButChunda Lal he can command with his _Will. _ From it, once he has madeanyone a slave to it, there is no escape. I have seen one in the cityof Quebec, in Canada, forget all else and begin to act in obedienceto the will of Fo-Hi who is thousands of miles away!"

"My God!" murmured Stuart, "what a horrible monster!"

They had reached the open door beyond which showed the dimly lightedpassage. Miska hesitated. 

"Oh! I am afraid!" she whispered. 

She thrust the keys into the hand of Inspector Kelly, pointing to oneof them, and:

"That is the key!" she said. "Have your pistol ready. Do not touchanything in the room and do not go in if I tell you not to. Come!"

They pressed along the passage, came to the stair and were about toascend, when there ensued a dull reverberating boom, and Miska shrankback into Stuart's arms with a stifled shriek. 

"Oh! Chunda Lal!" she moaned--"Chunda Lal! It is the trap!"

"The trap!" said Inspector Kelly. 

"The cellar trap. He has thrown him down ... To the ants!"

Inspector Kelly uttered a short laugh; but Stuart repressed a shudder. He was never likely to forget the skeleton of the Nubian mute whichhad been stripped by the ants in sixty-nine minutes!

"We are too late!" whispered Miska. "Oh! listen! listen!"

Bells began to ring somewhere above them. 

"Max and Dunbar are in!" said Kelly. "Come on, sir! Follow closely, boys!"

He ran up the stairs and along the corridor to the door at the end. 

A muffled shot sounded from somewhere in the depths of the house. 

"That's Harvey!" said one of the men who followed--"Our man must havetried to escape by the tunnel to the river bank!"

Inspector Kelly placed the key in the lock of the door. 

It was at this moment that Gaston Max, climbing up to the frontbalcony by means of the natural ladder afforded by the ancient ivy, grasped the iron railing and drew himself up to the level of theroom. By this same stairway Chunda Lal had ascended to death andMiska had climbed down to life. 

"Mind the ironwork doesn't give way, sir!" called Dunbar from below. 

"It is strong, " replied Max. "Join me here, my friend. "

Max, taking a magazine pistol from his pocket, stepped warily overthe ledge into the mysterious half-light behind the great screen. Ashe did so, one of the lacquer doors was unlocked from the outside, and across the extraordinary, smoke-laden room he saw Inspector Kellyenter. He saw something else. 

Seated in a strangely-shaped canopied chair was a figure wearing arich mandarin robe, but having its face covered with a green veil. 

_"Mon Deiu!_ at last!" he cried, and leapt into the room. "'TheScorpion'!"

Even as he leapt, and as the Scotland Yard men closed in upon thechair also, all of them armed and all half fearful, a thing happenedwhich struck awe to every heart--for it seemed to be supernatural. 

Raising a metal hammer which he held in his hand, Fo-Hi struck thebronze bell hung beside the chair. It emitted a deep, loud note.... 

There came a flash of blinding light, and intense crackling sound, the crash of broken glass, and a dense cloud of pungent fumes rosein the heated air. 

Dunbar had just climbed in behind Gaston Max. Bother were all buthurled from their feet by the force of the explosion. Then:

"Oh, my God!" cried Dunbar, staggering, half blinded, _"look--look!"_

A deathly silence claimed them all. Just within the doorway Stuartappeared, having his arm about the shoulders of Miska. 

The Throne of the Gods was empty! A thin coating of grey dust wassettling upon it and upon the dais which supported it. 

They had witnessed a scientific miracle ... The complete andinstantaneous disintegration of a human body. Gaston Max was thefirst to recover speech. 

"We are defeated, " he said. "'The Scorpion, ' surrounded, destroyshimself. It is the way of a scorpion. "