was guided along the whole length of
the room. A door was unlocked and re-locked behind them. Downstairs they
passed, and along a narrow corridor lined with cases, as he could dimly
see. Through another door they went, and came upon stone steps.

"Your boots!" said his companion, and put them into his hands.

Rapidly enough he fastened them. A faint creak was followed by a draught
of cool air; and, being gently pushed forward, Sheard found himself
outside the Museum and somewhere in the rear of the building. The place
lay in deep shadow.

"_Sss! Sss!_" came in his ear. "Quiet!"

Whilst he all but held his breath, a policeman tramped past slowly
outside the railings. As the sound of his solid tread died away, Severac
Bablon raised something to his lips and blew a long-sustained, minor
note--shrill, eerie.

A motor-car appeared, as if by magic, stopped before them, and was
backed right on to the pavement. The chauffeur, mounting on the roof,
threw a short rope ladder across the railings.

"Up!" Sheard was directed, and, nothing loath, climbed over.

He was joined immediately by his companion in this night's bizarre
adventures; and, almost before he realised that they were safe, he found
himself seated once more in the swiftly moving car.

"What's the meaning of it?" he demanded rapidly.

"Fear nothing!" was the reply. "You have my word!"

"But to what are you committing me?"

"To nothing that shall lie very heavily upon your conscience! You have
seen, to-night, something of my opportunities. With the treasures of the
nation thus at my mercy, am I a common cracksman? If I were, should I
not ere this have removed the portable gems of the collection? I say to
you again, that no door is closed to me; yet never have I sought to
enrich myself. But why should these things lie idle, when they are such
all-powerful instruments?"

"I don't follow you."

"To-morrow all will be clear!"

"Why did you blindfold me?"

"Should you have followed had you seen where I led? I wish to number you
among my friends. You are not of my people, and I can claim no fealty of
you; but I desire your friendship. Can I count upon it?"

The light of a street-lamp flashed momentarily into the car, striking a
dull, venomous green spark from a curious ring which Severac Bablon
wore. In some strange fashion it startled Sheard, but, in the ensuing
darkness, he sought out the handsome face of his companion and found the
big, luminous eyes f