about here?" he asked.

There was no reply. He tried another door, which led into a sort of
pantry, without result. The last one was fastened on the inside.

"Is Mr. Starling in there?" Arnold demanded.

There was still no reply, yet it was certain now that the end of his
search was at hand. Distinctly he could hear the sound of a man
breathing.

"Will you tell me if you are there, Mr. Starling?" Arnold again
demanded. "I have a message for you."

Starling, if indeed he were there, seemed now to be even holding his
breath. Arnold took one step back and charged the door. It went
crashing in, and almost at once there was a loud report. The
closet--it was little more--was filled with smoke, and Arnold heard
distinctly the hiss of a bullet buried in the woodwork over his
shoulder. He caught the revolver from the shaking fingers of the man
who was crouching upon the ground, and slipped it into his pocket.
With his other hand, he held his prisoner powerless.

"What the devil do you mean by that?" he cried, fiercely.

Starling--for it was Starling--seemed to have no words. Arnold
dragged him out into the light and for a moment found it hard to
recognize the man. He had lost over a stone in weight. His cheeks
were hollow, and his eyes had the hunted look in them of some wild
animal.

"What do you want with me?" he muttered. "Can't you see I am hiding
here? What business is it of yours to interfere?"

Arnold looked at him from head to foot. The man was shaking all
over; the coward's fear was upon him.

"What on earth are you in this state for?" he exclaimed. "Whom are
you hiding from? You have been set free. Is it the Rosario business
still? You have been set free once."

Starling moistened his lips rapidly.

"They set me free," he muttered, "because one of their witnesses
failed. They had no case; they wouldn't bring me up. But I am still
under surveillance. The sergeant as good as told me that they'd have
me before long."

"Well, at present, I've got you," Arnold said coolly. "Have you any
luggage?"

"No! Why?"

"Because you are coming along with me."

"Where?"

"I am taking you to Count Sabatini," Arnold informed him. "He is at
his villa about ten miles down the river."

Starling flopped upon his knees.

"For the love of God, don't take me to him!" he begged.

"Why not?"

"He is a devil, that man," Starling whispered, confidentially. "He
would blow out my brains or yours or his own, without a se