pon the divan to consider his
position.

That it was fairly desperate was a fact he was unable to hide from
himself, but at least he was still alive, which was a matter at once for
congratulation and surprise.

He had noticed before, in raising his hand to his head, that his
forehead felt cold and wet, and now, considering the matter closely,
he came to the conclusion that an attempt had been made to aid his
recovery, by some person or persons who must have retired at the moment
that he had shown signs of returning consciousness.

His salvation, then, was not accidental but deliberate. He wondered what
awaited him and why his life had been spared. That he had walked blindly
into a trap prepared for him by that mysterious personality known
as Fire-Tongue, he no longer could doubt. Intense anxiety and an
egotistical faith in his own acumen had led him to underestimate the
cleverness of his enemies, a vice from which ordinarily he was free.

From what hour they had taken a leading interest in his movements,
he would probably never know, but that they had detected Paul Harley
beneath the vendor of "Old Moore's Almanac" was certain enough. What a
fool he had been!

He reproached himself bitterly. Ordinary common sense should have
told him that the Hindu secretary had given those instructions to the
chauffeur in the courtyard of the Savoy Hotel for his, Paul Harley's,
special benefit. It was palpable enough now. He wondered how he had ever
fallen into such a trap, and biting savagely upon his pipe, he strove to
imagine what ordeal lay ahead of him.

So his thoughts ran, drifting from his personal danger, which he knew to
be great, to other matters, which he dreaded to consider, because they
meant far more to him than his own life. Upon these bitter reflections a
slight sound intruded, the first which had disturbed the stillness about
him since the moment of his awakening.

Someone had entered the room beyond the gilded screen, and now a faint
light showed beneath the fringe of the curtain. Paul Harley sat quite
still, smoking and watching.

He had learned to face the inevitable with composure, and now,
apprehending the worst, he waited, puffing at his pipe. Presently he
detected the sound of someone crossing the room toward him, or rather
toward the screen. He lay back against the mattress which formed the
back of the divan, and watched the gap below the curtain.

Suddenly he perceived a pair of glossy black boots.