ry was born within my brain; it was that of the cry of
the nighthawk which had harbingered the death of Forsyth! The net was
a large and strong one; could it be that some horrible fowl of the
air--some creature unknown to Western naturalists--had been released
upon the common last night? I thought of the marks upon Forsyth's face
and throat; I thought of the profound knowledge of obscure and dreadful
things possessed by the Chinaman.

The wrapping, in which the net had been, lay at my feet. I stooped and
took out from it a wicker basket. Karamaneh stood watching me and biting
her lip, but she made no move to check me. I opened the basket. It
contained a large phial, the contents of which possessed a pungent and
peculiar smell.

I was utterly mystified.

"You will have to accompany me to my house," I said sternly.

Karamaneh upturned her great eyes to mine. They were wide with fear. She
was on the point of speaking when I extended my hand to grasp her. At
that, the look of fear was gone and one of rebellion held its place. Ere
I had time to realize her purpose, she flung back from me with that wild
grace which I had met with in no other woman, turned and ran!

Fatuously, net and basket in hand, I stood looking after her. The idea
of pursuit came to me certainly; but I doubted if I could have outrun
her. For Karamaneh ran, not like a girl used to town or even country
life, but with the lightness and swiftness of a gazelle; ran like the
daughter of the desert that she was.

Some two hundred yards she went, stopped, and looked back. It would seem
that the sheer joy of physical effort had aroused the devil in her, the
devil that must lie latent in every woman with eyes like the eyes of
Karamaneh.

In the ever brightening sunlight I could see the lithe figure swaying;
no rags imaginable could mask its beauty. I could see the red lips
and gleaming teeth. Then--and it was music good to hear, despite its
taunt--she laughed defiantly, turned, and ran again!

I resigned myself to defeat; I blush to add, gladly! Some evidences of
a world awakening were perceptible about me now. Feathered choirs hailed
the new day joyously. Carrying the mysterious contrivance which I had
captured from the enemy, I set out in the direction of my house, my mind
very busy with conjectures respecting the link between this bird snare
and the cry like that of a nighthawk which we had heard at the moment of
Forsyth's death.

The path that I had