d
another quarter of a mile to any that was occupied.

Our chance of meeting a living soul, other than Fu-Manchu's dacoits,
was practically nil.

At first we ran easily, for it was the second half-mile that would
decide our fate. The professional murderers who pursued us ran like
panthers, I knew; and I dare not allow my mind to dwell upon those
yellow figures with the curved, gleaming knives. For a long time
neither of us looked back.

On we ran, and on--silently, doggedly.

Then a hissing breath from Smith warned me what to expect.

Should I, too, look back? Yes. It was impossible to resist the horrid
fascination.

I threw a quick glance over my shoulder.

And never while I live shall I forget what I saw. Two of the pursuing
dacoits had outdistanced their fellow (or fellows), and were actually
within three hundred yards of us.

More like dreadful animals they looked than human beings, running bent
forward, with their faces curiously uptilted. The brilliant moonlight
gleamed upon bared teeth, as I could see, even at that distance, even
in that quick, agonized glance, and it gleamed upon the crescent-shaped
knives.

"As hard as you can go now," panted Smith. "We must make an attempt to
break into the empty cottage. Only chance."

I had never in my younger days been a notable runner; for Smith I
cannot speak. But I am confident that the next half-mile was done in
time that would not have disgraced a crack man. Not once again did
either of us look back. Yard upon yard we raced forward together. My
heart seemed to be bursting. My leg muscles throbbed with pain. At
last, with the empty cottage in sight, it came to that pass with me
when another three yards looks as unattainable as three miles. Once I
stumbled.

"My God!" came from Smith weakly.

But I recovered myself. Bare feet pattered close upon our heels, and
panting breaths told how even Fu-Manchu's bloodhounds were hard put to
it by the killing pace we had made.

"Smith," I whispered, "look in front. Someone!"

As through a red mist I had seen a dark shape detach itself from the
shadows of the cottage, and merge into them again. It could only be
another dacoit; but Smith, not heeding, or not hearing, my faintly
whispered words, crashed open the gate and hurled himself blindly at
the door.

It burst open before him with a resounding boom, and he pitched forward
into the interior darkness. Flat upon the floor he lay, for as, with