of poor Hale.... You would have tried to brush the thing away ..."

A light of understanding began to dawn in my friend's eyes. He drew
himself stiffly upright, and in a loud, harsh voice uttered the words:
"Sâkya Mûni"--and again: "Sâkya Mûni."

"Thank God!" I said shakily. "I was not too late."

Nayland Smith, with much rattling of glass, poured out two stiff pegs
from the decanter. Then--

"_Ssh!_what's that?" he whispered.

He stood, tense, listening, his head cast slightly to one side.

A very faint sound of shuffling and tapping was perceptible, coming,
as I thought, from the incomplete stairway communicating with the upper
corridor.

"The man with the limp!" whispered Smith.

He bounded to the door and actually had one hand upon the bolt, when
he turned, and fixed his gaze upon the brass box.

"No!" he snapped; "there are occasions when prudence should rule.
Neither of us must leave these rooms to-night!"



CHAPTER V