ecret of the cabinet; he follows Armand to New York,
shadows him to the house on Seventh Avenue, waits for him there, and
seizes and binds him. He is half mad with triumph--he chants a crazy
sing-song about revenge, revenge, revenge! And, in order that the
triumph may be complete, he does not kill his prisoner at once. He
rolls him into a corner and proceeds to rip away the burlap. His
triumph will be to open the secret drawer before Armand's eyes. And
Armand lies there in the corner, his eyes gleaming, because it is
really the moment of _his_ triumph which is at hand!"

"The moment of his triumph?" I repeated. "What do you mean by that,
Godfrey?"

"I mean that, the instant the traitor opened the drawer, he would be
stabbed by the poisoned mechanism! It was for that that Armand
waited!"

I lay back in my chair with a gasp of amazement and admiration. I had
been blind not to see it! Armand had merely to lie still and permit
the traitor to walk into the trap prepared for him. No wonder his
eyes had glowed as he lay there watching that frenzied figure at the
cabinet!

"It was not until the last moment," Godfrey went on, "when the
traitor was bending above the cabinet feeling for the spring, that I
realised what was about to happen. There was no time for hesitation
--I sprang into the room. Armand vanished in an instant, and the
giant also tried to escape; but I caught him at the door. I had no
idea of his danger; I had no thought that Armand would dare linger.
And yet he did. Now that it is too late, I understand. He _had_ to
kill that man; there were no two ways about it. Whatever the risk, he
had to kill him."

"But why?" I asked. "Why?"

"To seal his lips. If we had captured him, do you suppose Armand's
secret would have been safe for an instant? So he had to kill him--he
had to kill him with the poisoned barb--and he _did_ kill him, and
got away into the bargain! Never in my life have I felt so like a
fool as when that door was slammed in my face!"

"Perhaps he had that prepared, too," I suggested timidly, ready to
believe anything of this extraordinary man. "Perhaps he knew that we
were there, all the time."

"Of course he did," assented Godfrey grimly. "Why else would there be
a snap-lock on the outside of the door? And to think I didn't see it!
To think that I was fool enough to suppose that I could follow him
about the streets of New York without his knowing it! He knew from
the first that he might be f