my acquaintance who chanced to be visiting Manipur.

"Grahame--that was my orchid man's name--pronounced the specimen to be
an unclassified species of _jatropha;_ belonging to the _Curcas_
family. He discovered a sort of hollow thorn, almost like a fang,
amongst the blooms, but was unable to surmise the nature of its
functions. He extracted enough of a certain fixed oil from the flowers,
however, to have poisoned the pair of us!"

"Probably the breaking of a bloom ..."

"Ejects some of this acrid oil through the thorn? Practically the
uncanny thing stings when it is hurt? That is my own idea, Petrie. And
I can understand how these Eastern fanatics accept their sentence--
silence and death--when they have deserved it, at the hands of their
mysterious organization, and commit this novel form of _hara-kiri_.
But I shall not sleep soundly with that brass coffer in my possession
until I know by what means Sir Gregory was induced to touch a Flower
of Silence, and by what means it was placed in his room!"

"But, Smith, why did you direct me to-night to repeat the words,
'Sakya Muni'?"

Smith smiled in a very grim fashion.

"It was after the episode I have just related that I made the
acquaintance of that pundit, some of whose statements I have already
quoted for your enlightenment. He admitted that the Flower of Silence
was an instrument frequently employed by a certain group, adding that,
according to some authorities, one who had touched the flower might
escape death by immediately pronouncing the sacred name of Buddha. He
was no fanatic himself, however, and, marking my incredulity, he
explained that the truth was this;--

"No one whose powers of speech were imperfect could possibly pronounce
correctly the words 'Sakya Muni.' Therefore, since the first
effects of this damnable thing is instantly to tie the tongue, the
uttering of the sacred name of Buddha becomes practically a test
whereby the victim my learn whether the venom has entered his system
or not!"

I repressed a shudder. An atmosphere of horror seemed to be enveloping
us, foglike.

"Smith," I said slowly, "we must be on our guard," for at last I had
run to earth that elusive memory. "Unless I am strangely mistaken,
the 'man' who so mysteriously entered Hale's room and the supposed
_ayah_ whom I met downstairs are one and the same. Two, at least, of
the Yellow group are actually here in the New Louvre!"

The light of the shaded lamp shone down upon th