oames' little white room!

Soames staggered across, for it seemed a veritable haven of
refuge--entered, and dropped upon the bed. He seemed to see the
rose-petals fall--fall--falling in that red room in the labyrinth--the
room that had no door; he seemed to see the laughing eyes of the
beautiful Eurasian.

"Good night!" came the metallic voice of Ho-Pin.

The light in the corridor went out.

XVI

HO-PIN'S CATACOMBS

The newly-created Mr. Lucas entered upon a sort of cave-man existence
in this fantastic abode where night was day and day was night; where the
sun never shone.

He was awakened on the first morning of his sojourn in the establishment
of Ho-Pin by the loud ringing of an electric bell immediately beside his
bed. He sprang upright with a catching of the breath, peering about him
at the unfamiliar surroundings and wondering, in the hazy manner of a
sleeper newly awakened, where he was, and how come there. He was fully
dressed, and his strapped-up grip lay beside him on the floor; for he
had not dared to remove his clothes, had not dared to seek slumber
after that terrifying interview with Mr. King. But outraged nature had
prevailed, and sleep had come unbeckoned, unbidden.

The electric light was still burning in the room, as he had left it, and
as he sat up, looking about him, a purring whistle drew his attention to
a speaking-tube which protruded below the bell.

Soames rolled from the bed, head throbbing, and an acrid taste in his
mouth, and spoke into the tube:

"Hullo!"

"You will pwrepare for youwr duties," came the metallic gutturals of
Ho-Pin. "Bwreakfast will be bwrought to you in a quawrter-of-an-hour."

He made no reply, but stood looking about him dully. It had not been a
dream, then, nor was he mad. It was a horrible reality; here, in London,
in modern, civilized London, he was actually buried in some incredible
catacomb; somewhere near to him, very near to him, was the cave of the
golden dragon, and, also adjacent--terrifying thought--was the doorless
library, the rose-scented haunt where the beautiful Eurasian spoke,
oracularly, the responses of Mr. King!

Soames could not understand it all; he felt that such things could
not be; that there must exist an explanation of those seeming
impossibilities other than that they actually existed. But the
instructions were veritable enough, and would not be denied.

Rapidly he began to unpack his grip. His watch had stopped, since h