the reaction. Keep this rubbish to yourself, or they will lock you up in
an asylum."

"Certainly, Aylward, certainly. But can't you get rid of that beastly
image?"

"Not on any account, Haswell, even if it haunts us all day. Here it
shall stop until the Saharas are floated on Monday, if I have to lock it
in the strongroom and throw the keys into the Thames. Afterwards Vernon
can take it, as he has a right to do, and I am sure that with it will go
our luck."

"Then the sooner our luck goes, the better," replied Haswell, with
a mere ghost of his former whistle. "Life is better than luck,
and--Aylward, that Yellow God you are so fond of means to murder us. We
are being fatted for the sacrifice, that is all. I remember now, that
was one of the things I saw written in its eyes!"



CHAPTER III

JEEKIE TELLS A TALE

The Court, Mr. Champers-Haswell's place, was a very fine house indeed,
of a sort. That is, it contained twenty-nine bedrooms, each of them with
a bathroom attached, a large number of sitting-rooms, ample garages,
stables, and offices, the whole surrounded by several acres of
newly-planted gardens. Incidentally it may be mentioned that it was
built in the most atrocious taste and looked like a suburban villa seen