n from the chairs. His clothing
was heaped in an ugly pile in the middle of the floor. Drawers were
pulled out and emptied.

The fur! He ran swiftly to the closet, twisted the handle and breathed
a sigh of relief. The cedar chest was broken and splintered around the
lock, but the cover hadn't been lifted. He inserted the key quickly
and drew out the fur cape. Its rich depth felt more precious than ever
in his fingers. Here in his hands was the link to his first real love
affair.

A footstep sounded faintly behind him. His heart was in his throat.
Drake whipped around and sprang to his feet. He stared straight into
the barrel of a wicked automatic. Lifting his eyes slowly, he studied
the man who held the weapon.

The stranger's face was hard as stone, almost barbaric. His bronze
skin stretched tightly over firm, high cheek bones. The mouth was open
slightly in a determined way. Teeth that flashed like an uneven row of
pearls seemed half savage, yet not unfriendly.

"You will come toward me slowly," the man's voice was cultured, yet
hesitant, as though he hadn't spoken English for many years. "A false
move will destroy you."

He backed away toward the center of the room.

"How ... where?" Drake stammered.

"You forgot to examine the bath," the gunman said. "You are not a
painstaking young man, Jim Drake."

Jim started. The man knew his name, held a gun on him that threatened
immediate death, and yet his voice was friendly, ever courteous.

"I have nothing here that you want," Drake said.

* * * * *

He stood in the middle of the room now. The stranger reached down
carefully with one hand, still holding his aim. He twisted a chair
upright and sat down. For the first time Drake had a chance to look
him over more carefully. His eyes were the same deep black as Sylvia
Fanton's. Cold and yet somehow gentle.

"You are holding in your hand what I need more than anything in the
world." The man relaxed but the gun didn't waver. Drake sat down
opposite him on the edge of the bed.

"The fur?" he asked.

"The fox fur." The gun settled on the strange intruder's knee and he
leaned forward eagerly. "Give it to me at once. If I leave with it
now, you will be troubled no more. This is as our mistress demands."

Then Sylvia Fanton had sent him. He must be one of the henchmen she
had spoken of. At once Drake felt relieved. He pushed the fur away
from him slowly, hating to part with it. The