ne and her hands were
clutching me, but the glamour of her personality had lost its hold,
for I knew--heavens, how poignantly it struck home to me!--that Nayland
Smith was gone to his death. What I hoped to achieve, I know not, but
hurling the trembling girl aside, I snatched the Browning pistol from my
coat pocket, and with the ray of the lamp directed upon the purple mound
of velvet, I leaped forward.

I think I realized that the curtains had masked a collapsible trap, a
sheer pit of blackness, an instant before I was precipitated into it,
but certainly the knowledge came too late. With the sound of a soft,
shuddering cry in my ears, I fell, dropping lamp and pistol, and
clutching at the fallen hangings. But they offered me no support. My
head seemed to be bursting; I could utter only a hoarse groan, as I
fell--fell--fell...

When my mind began to work again, in returning consciousness, I found it
to be laden with reproach. How often in the past had we blindly hurled
ourselves into just such a trap as this? Should we never learn that
where Fu-Manchu was, impetuosity must prove fatal? On two distinct
occasions in the past we had been made the victims of this device,
yet even although we had had practically conclusive evidence that this
studio was used by Dr. Fu-Manchu, we had relied upon its floor being as
secure as that of any other studio, we had failed to sound every foot of
it ere trusting our weight to its support....

"There is such a divine simplicity in the English mind that one may
lay one's plans with mathematical precision, and rely upon the Nayland
Smiths and Dr. Petries to play their allotted parts. Excepting two
faithful followers, my friends are long since departed. But here, in
these vaults which time has overlooked and which are as secret and as
serviceable to-day as they were two hundred years ago, I wait patiently,
with my trap set, like the spider for the fly!..."

To the sound of that taunting voice, I opened my eyes. As I did so I
strove to spring upright--only to realize that I was tied fast to a
heavy ebony chair inlaid with ivory, and attached by means of two iron
brackets to the floor.

"Even children learn from experience," continued the unforgettable
voice, alternately guttural and sibilant, but always as deliberate as
though the speaker were choosing with care words which should perfectly
clothe his thoughts. "For 'a burnt child fears the fire,' says your
English adage. But Mr. Commis