he retorted.

She made no answer.

"Why did you shoot at me?"

She lifted her black eyes and stared at him. Her breast rose and fell
with her rapid breathing, and she placed both hands over it as though
to quiet it.

"Come," he said, "I'm in a hurry. I want an explanation from you----"

The words died on his lips as she whipped a knife out of her bosom and
flew at him. Through the confusion of flash light and darkness they
reeled, locked together, but he caught her arm again, jerking it so
violently into the air that he lifted her off her feet.

"That's about all for tonight," he panted, twisting the knife out of
her helpless hand and flinging it behind him. Without further
ceremony, he pulled out his handkerchief, caught her firmly, reached
for her other arm, jerked it behind her back, and tied both wrists.
Then he dragged a chair up and pushed her on it.

Her hat had fallen off, and her hair sagged to her neck. The frail
stuff of which her waist was made had been badly torn, too, and hung
in rags from her right shoulder.

"Who are you?" he demanded.

As she made no reply, he went over and picked up the knife and the
pistol. The knife was a silver-mounted Kurdish dagger; the engraved
and inlaid blade appeared to be dull and rusty. He examined it for a
few moments, glanced inquiringly at her where she sat, pale and mute
on the chair, with both wrists tied behind her.

"You seem to be a connoisseur of antiques," he said. "Your dagger is
certainly a collector's gem, and your revolver is equally out of date.
I recommend an automatic the next time you contemplate doing murder."

Walking up to her he looked curiously into her dark eyes, but he could
detect no expression in them.

"Why did you come here?" he demanded.

No answer.

"Did you come to get an olive-wood box bound with silver?"

A slight colour tinted the ashy pallor under her eyes.

He turned abruptly and swept the furniture with his searchlight, and
saw on a table her coat, gloves, wrist bag, and furled umbrella; and
beside them what appeared to be her suitcase, open. It had a canvas
and leather cover: he walked over to the table, turned back the cover
of the suitcase and revealed a polished box of olive wood, heavily
banded by some metal resembling silver.

Inside the box were books, photographs, a bronze Chinese figure, which
he recognised as the Yellow Devil, a pair of revolvers, a dagger very
much like the one he had wrested from her. _