Inside was a small box. He picked it up and tried to open it, but
it was locked. There was no time to work over it here, and he took
it under his arm and started to leave.

He paused a moment to look at us, then took out a piece of paper
and a pencil and on the paper wrote, "Thanks for your trouble."
Beneath, it was signed by his special stamp--the serpent's head,
mouth open and fangs showing.

Long Sin looked at us a moment, then a subtle smile seemed to
spread over his face. At last he had us in his power.

He drew out a long, wicked-looking Chinese knife and stuck it
through the note.

Then he felt the edge of the knife. It was keen.

. . . . . . .

In the sitting-room, Elaine, Aunt Tabby and Joshua had been
listening intently at the fireplace but heard nothing.

They were now getting decidedly worried. Finally, the fumes which
we had released made their way to the room. They were considerably
diluted by fresh air by that time, but, although they were
nauseous, were not sufficient to overcome any one. Still, the
smell was terrible.

"I can't stand it any longer," cried Elaine. "I'm going down there