had evidently been snapped off from the rest of the ornament--if the
thing had formed part of an ornament. Stuart looked up, frowning in
a puzzled way.

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

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

"Oh, as to that--I said a _curious_ fragment advisedly, because I
cannot imagine any woman wearing such a beastly thing. It is the _tail
of a scorpion._"

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

"Not so bad a guess," replied Stuart. "There _are_ resemblances--not
in the originals but in such a miniature reproduction as this. He was
wrong, 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's
tail I know that I'm out of my depth as well. You've travelled in
the East and lived in the East--two very different things. Now, while
you were out there, in India, China, Burma, and so on, did you ever
come across a religion or a cult that worshipped scorpions?"

Stuart frowned thoughtfully, rubbing his chin with the mouthpiece of
his 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 he
busied himself with syphon and decanter. Presently he returned,
carrying two full glasses, one of which he set before Stuart. "What's
the answer, doctor?" he asked.

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

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

"I stared down at him in a