of his returning an hour earlier than he was
expected, he was become a witness of this incident, or of its dreadful,
concluding phases. He had begun to move away from the door, but now he
returned, and stood leaning against it.

That stifling room where roses shed their petals, had been opened
to-night; a chill touched the very center of his being and told him so.
The occupant of that room--the Minotaur of this hideous labyrinth--was
at large to-night, was roaming the passages about him, was perhaps
outside his very door....

Dull moaning sounds reached him through the trap. He realized that if he
had the courage to cross the room, stand upon a chair and place his ear
to the wall, he might be able to detect more of what was passing in the
next apartment. But craven fear held him in its grip, and in vain he
strove to shake it off. Trembling wildly, he stood with his back to the
door, whilst muttered words, and moans, ever growing fainter, reached
him from beyond. A voice, a harsh, guttural voice--surely not that of
Ho-Pin--was audible, above the moaning.

For two minutes--three minutes--four minutes--he stood there, tottering
on the brink of insensibility, then... a faint sound--a new sound,--drew
his gaze across the room, and up to the corner where the trap was
situated.

A very dim light was dawning there; he could just detect the outline of
an opening--a half-light breaking the otherwise impenetrable darkness.

He felt that his capacity for fear was strained to its utmost; that he
could support nothing more, yet a new horror was in store for him; for,
as he watched that gray patch, in it, as in a frame, a black silhouette
appeared--the silhouette of a human head... a woman's head!

Soames convulsively clenched his jaws, for his teeth were beginning to
chatter.

A whistle, an eerie, minor whistle, subscribed the ultimate touch
of terror to the night. The silhouette disappeared, and, shortly
afterwards, the gray luminance. A faint click told of some shutter being
fastened; complete silence reigned.

Soames groped his way to the bed and fell weakly upon it, half lying
down and burying his face in the pillow. For how long, he had no idea,
but for some considerable time, he remained so, fighting to regain
sufficient self-possession to lie to Ho-Pin, who sooner or later must
learn of his return.

At last he managed to sit up. He was not trembling quite so wildly, but
he still suffered from a deathly sickness. A