came to me.

"Hullo!" I cried. "Hullo!"

A shriek--a deathful, horrifying cry--and a distant babbling alone
answered me. There was a crash. Clearly, Deeping had dropped the
receiver. I suppose my face blanched.

"What is it?" asked Bristol anxiously.

"God knows what it is!" I said. "Deeping has met with some
mishap--"

When, over the wires--

"Hassan of Aleppo!" came a dying whisper. "Hassan . . . of
Aleppo . . . "




CHAPTER IV

THE OBLONG BOX


"You had better wait for us," said Bristol to the taxi-man.

"Very good, sir. But I shan't be able to take you further back than
the Brixton Garage. You can get another cab there, though."