er slim, bare arms outstretched and
her head pillowed upon them, so that her rippling hair completely
concealed her face, lay Karamaneh....

In a trice Barton leapt upon the great beast standing over Homopoulo,
had him by the back of the neck and held him in his powerful hands
whining with fear and helpless as a rat in the grip of a terrier. The
second leopard fled into the inner lair.

So much I visualized in a flash; then all faded, and I knelt alone
beside her whose life was my life, in a world grown suddenly empty
and still.

Through long hours of agony I lived, hours contained within the span
of seconds, the beloved head resting against my shoulder, whilst I
searched for signs of life and dreaded to find ghastly wounds.... At
first I could not credit the miracle; I could not receive the wondrous
truth.

Karamaneh was quite uninjured and deep in drugged slumber!

"The leopards thought her dead," whispered Smith brokenly, "and never
touched her!"

CHAPTER XXXVII

THREE NIGHTS LATER

"Listen!" cried Sir Lionel Barton.

He stood upon the black rug before the massive, carven mantelpiece, a
huge man in an appropriately huge setting.

I checked the words on my lips, and listened intently. Within
Graywater Park all was still, for the hour was late. Outside, the
rain was descending in a deluge, its continuous roar drowning any
other sound that might have been discernible. Then, above it, I
detected a noise that at first I found difficult to define.

"The howling of the leopards!" I suggested.

Sir Lionel shook his tawny head with impatience. Then, the sound
growing louder, suddenly I knew it for what it was.

"Some one shouting!" I exclaimed--"some one who rides a galloping
horse!"

"Coming here!" added Sir Lionel. "Hark! he is at the door!"

A bell rang furiously, again and again sending its brazen clangor
echoing through the great apartments and passages of Graywater.

"There goes Kennedy."

Above the sibilant roaring of the rain I could hear some one releasing
heavy bolts and bars. The servants had long since retired, as also had
Karamaneh; but Sir Lionel's man remained wakeful and alert.

Sir Lionel made for the door, and I, standing up, was about to follow
him, when Kennedy appeared, in his wake a bedraggled groom, hatless,
and pale to the lips. His frightened eyes looked from face to face.

"Dr. Petrie?" he gasped interrogatively.

"Yes!" I said, a sudden dread assailing me. "What is i