sound of cracking wood. "Come along!" cried Allen. "They'll be past the
barrier in a minute!" And leaving Mansoor and the others to be dealt
with by subordinates, he led the way up the steep stairs, at a run.

We did not stop at the first story, the "show" part of the House of the
Crocodile; but catching a glimpse of a latticed balcony off the
landing, all lovely mushrbiyeh work, and a great room of Persian tiled
walls and coloured marble floor, beyond, we dashed up another flight of
stairs to the story above. These stairs were of common wood, and
somewhat out of repair. At the top was a door of carved cedarwood like
those below, but rough in execution, faded, and with here and there a
starpoint or triangle of the pattern missing, leaving a hole in the
thick wood. On this door was nailed a large card with the notice in
English, French, and Arabic, "Forbidden to the Public."

"What a grand idea to install a hasheesh den here!" I could not help
thinking as I followed at Allen's heels to the head of the stairs,
where two of his men worked with crowbars to prize open that
theatrically dilapidated door. Behind the pair who worked were the
others who had entered by the window below; and hardly had we taken our
places in the strange _queue_, when with a loud groan the door gave
way. The couple in front almost fell into a dark passage on the other
side, and my heart leaped, for I half expected to see them driven back
upon us by an attack with knives or pistols. But the dim vista seemed
to hold only silence and emptiness as I peered over men's shoulders;
and as we crowded in, Allen pushing ahead to take the lead, nothing
stirred.

The passage was but a gallery, like that below, but instead of being
open, it was closed in with lattice of mushrbiyeh work, so that, though