d distantly upon wood.
And metal clanked upon metal. Darkness, black as the grave, and as
ominous.

A white, round spot remained fixed upon his retina, slowly fading. The
face of the clock. The hands, like black daggers, had pointed to ten
minutes of one. Ten minutes of life! Ten minutes to live! Or--less?

Silence, broken only by the reluctant _click-clack, click-clack_ of the
rosewood clock.

If he could reach the window! Then a low, convulsed sobbing occurred
close to his ear. The girl groped for his arm. She was shaking,
shaking so that his arm trembled under it.

"Your final card!" he whispered. "The final trick! God! Now, damn
you, get me out of this!"

"I can't. I--I---- Oh, God! Kill me! I gave you every chance. They
forced me--forced me to bring you here. They would have strangled me,
just as they strangled the other!" She seemed to steady herself while
he listened in growing horror.

"Safe!" he groaned. "Safety for you. Death--for me! You--you led me
into their hands, and I--I trusted you. I trusted you!"

She laid a cold, moist hand over his lips, this devil-woman.

"Hush! If they, if he, so much as guessed that I cared for you, that I
loved you, it would mean my death. I was forced--forced to bring you
here. Don't you understand? And if he even guessed. But you had your
chance. You had your chance!"

Almost hysterically she was endeavoring to extenuate her crime, her
treason.

"Stand up and face them. Meet your death! Escape is--impossible!
Impossible! They are watching you like a rat. In a moment they know
you can stand this strain no longer! Face them, I say! Show them
that----"

Peter pushed her away from him in loathing, and she lay still, only
whimpering.

Yet the devils of darkness--where were they? And slowly, yet more
slowly, the rosewood clock ticked off its seconds. It should be nearly
one. At one----

A fighting chance?

CHAPTER XV

On his hands and knees he crouched, and began crawling, an inch at a
time, toward the French window, dragging the automatic over the thick
satin carpet. He reached the window. It was still ajar. Far, far
below twinkled the lights of Hong Kong, of ships anchored in the bay,
and the glitter of Kowloon across the bay. Out there was life!

A board creaked near him, toward the heart of that darkened vault. He
spun about, aimed blindly, fired!

The floor shook as an unseen shape collapsed and writhed wi