the oaken beams which crossed it.

"We are passing under the dining-room," said Smith. "It was from here
the sound of beating first came!"

"What do you mean?"

"I have built up a theory, which remains to be proved, Petrie. In my
opinion a captive of the Yellow group escaped to-night and sought to
summon assistance, but was discovered and overpowered."

"Sir Lionel?"

"Sir Lionel, or Kennedy--yes, I believe so."

Enlightenment came to me, and I understood the pitiable condition into
which the Greek butler had been thrown by the phenomenon of the
ghostly knocking. But Smith hurried on, and suddenly I saw that the
passage had entered upon a sharp declivity; and now both roof and
walls were composed of crumbling brickwork. Smith pulled up, and thrust
back a hand to detain me.

"_Ssh!_" he hissed, and grasped my arm.

Silent, intently still, we stood and listened. The sound of a guttural
voice was clearly distinguishable from somewhere close at hand!

Smith extinguished the lamp. A faint luminance proclaimed itself
directly ahead. Still grasping my arm, Smith began slowly to advance
toward the light. One--two--three--four--five paces we crept onward ...
and I found myself looking through an archway into a medieval
torture-chamber!

Only a part of the place was visible to me, but its character was
unmistakable. Leg-irons, boots and thumb-screws hung in racks upon
the fungi-covered wall. A massive, iron-studded door was open at the
further end of the chamber, and on the threshold stood Homopoulo,
holding a lantern in his hand.

Even as I saw him, he stepped through, followed by on of those short,
thick-set Burmans of whom Dr. Fu-Manchu had a number among his
entourage; they were members of the villainous robber bands notorious
in India as the dacoits. Over one broad shoulder, slung sackwise, the
dacoit carried a girl clad in scanty white drapery....

Madness seized me, the madness of sorrow and impotent wrath. For, with
Karamaneh being borne off before my eyes, I dared not fire at her
abductors lest I should strike _her_!

Nayland Smith uttered a loud cry, and together we hurled ourselves
into the chamber. Heedless of what, of whom, else it might shelter,
we sprang for the group in the distant doorway. A memory is mine of
the dark, white face of Homopoulo, peering, wild-eyed, over the
lantern, of the slim, white-clad form of the lovely captive seeming to
fade into the obscurity of th passage beyond.

Then,