the jerk of his hand that
told that the key had turned, and that the way was clear. Leh Shin dived
out of the recess and ran, a flitting shadow, across the road. The door
was open, but the Burman for all his madness was not satisfied. There
was a way out through the back by which they could emerge, and if the
front door hung loose, careless eyes might easily be attracted to the
fact. The pointing man was not there for nothing. Almost everyone
looked up the steps. Even in his fury of impatience, Leh Shin saw the
reason for caution, and agreed to open a window, and admit the Burman
after he had locked the door again.

The moments were full of the tense agony of suspense, and he peered
cautiously out from under the silk blind. A late passer-by went slowly
up the street, and Leh Shin's heart beat a loud obbligato to the sound
of his wooden pattens. By craning his neck as the man passed, he could
just distinguish the Burman crouching behind the wooden man, who blandly
indicated the heavy padlock. The wooden man lied woodenly to the effect
that all was well within the curio shop, and a few minutes later the
Burman swung himself over the balustrade and climbed with cat-like
agility on to the window-ledge.

The darkness of the room was heavy with scent, and Leh Shin stumbled
over unknown things. Coryndon struck a match and held it in the hollow
of one palm as he opened the aperture in the dark lantern he carried,
and lighted it. When he had done so he looked up, and taking no notice
of the masses of beautiful things, he went quickly to the silk cupboard,
opening it with another key on the ring.

"Leh Shin," he said, speaking in a commanding whisper, "turn thyself
into an ear, and listen for me while I search."

Leh Shin nodded silently, half-stupidly it seemed, and went on tip-toes
to the door that opened into the passage. All the power of the past was
over him, and though he heard the Burman's curt command he hardly seemed
to understand what he meant. For a little time he stood at the door,
hearing the rustling whisper of yards of silk torn down and glanced over
and discarded, and then he wandered almost without knowing it up the
staircase and through the rooms, until the sight of Mhtoon Pah's bed and
some of Mhtoon Pah's clothing recalled his mind to the reason of his
being there.

He hurried down, his bare feet making no sound on the stairs, and looked
into the shop again. The Burman was seated on the floor, a width of