hadow. Lorry glided forward
and in an instant stood before the amazed fellow, jamming a pistol into
his face.

"A sound and you die!" he hissed.

"Don't move!" came another whisper, and a second revolver touched his
ear. The cook, perhaps, did not know their language, but he certainly
understood its meaning. He trembled, and would have fallen to the floor
had not the strong hand of Lorry pinned him to the wall. The hand was on
his throat, too.

"Chloroform him, Harry, and don't let him make a sound!" whispered the
owner of the hand. Anguish's twitching fingers succeeded those of his
friend on the cook's throat, his pistol was returned to his pocket, and
the little bottle came again into use.

"I'll go ahead. Follow me as soon as you have finished this fellow. Be
careful, and turn to the left when you come to the top."

Lorry was off across the marble floor, headed for the stairway, and
Anguish was left in charge of the cook, of whom he was to make short
work. Now came the desperate, uncertain part of the transaction. Suppose
he were to meet the two conspirators at the head of the stairs, or in
the hall, or that the other traitor, Dannox, should appear to frustrate
all. It was the most trying moment in the whole life of the reckless
Lorry.

When near the top of the steps he hugged the high balustrade and
cautiously peered ahead. He found himself looking down a long hall, at
the far end of which, to his right, a dim light was burning. There was
no sound and there was no sign of the two men, either to the right or
to the left. His heart felt like lead! They evidently had entered the
Princess's room! How was he to find that room? Slowly he wriggled across
the broad, dark hall, straightening up in the shadow of a great post.
From this point he edged along the wall for a distance of ten or twelve
feet to the left. A sound came from farther down the hall, and he
imagined he heard some one approaching.

His hand came in contact with a heavy hanging or tapestry, and he
quickly squirmed behind its folds, finding himself against a door which
moved as his body touched it. He felt it swing open slightly and drew
back, intending to return to the hall, uncertain and very much undecided
as to the course to pursue. His revolver was in his hand. Just as he was
about to pull aside the curtain a man glided past, quickly followed by
another. Providence had kept him from running squarely into them.
They were going toward the left, a