from the museum.

We sprang to the window, I expecting to see Kennedy injured,
Spencer expecting to see his costly museum a mass of smoking
ruins. Instead we saw nothing of the sort. On the window-ledge was
a peculiar little instrument that looked like a miniature field-
gun with an elaborate system of springs and levers to break the
recoil.

Craig had turned from it so suddenly that he actually ran full
tilt into us. "Come on," he cried breathlessly, bolting from the
room, and seizing Dr. Lith by the arm as he did so. "Dr. Lith, the
keys to the museum, quick! We must get there before the fumes
clear away."

He was taking the stairs two at a time, dragging the dignified
curator with him.

In fewer seconds than I can tell it we were in the museum and
mounting the broad staircase to the art-gallery. An overpowering
gas seemed to permeate everything.

"Stand back a moment," cautioned Kennedy as we neared the door. "I
have just shot in here one of those asphyxiating bombs which the
Paris police invented to war against the Apaches and the motor-car
bandits. Open all the windows back here and let the air clear.
Walter, breathe as little of it as you can--but--come here--do you
see?--over there, near the other door--a figure lying on the
floor? Make a dash in after me and carry it out. There is just one
thing more. If I am not back in a minute come in and try to get