sinister silence reclaimed the house of ah-fang-fu. and ah-fang-fu resumed his solitary game.

"he recognised 'le belafre'" whispered max—"and was surprised to see him! so there are three of the gang here! did you particularly observe in which bunks they lay, doctor. ssh!"

a voice from a bunk had commenced to sing monotonously.

"peyala peah," it sang, weird above the murmured accompaniment of the other dreaming smokers and the wash-wash of the tide—"to myn-na-peah-phir kysee ko kyah …"

"he is speaking from an opium-trance," said stuart softly. "a native song: 'if a cup of wine is drunk, and i have drunk it, what of that?'"

"mon dieu! it is uncanny!" whispered max. "brr! do you hear those rats? i am wondering in what order we shall be admitted to the 'scorpion's' presence, or if we shall see him together."

"he may come in here."

"all the better."

"gimme 'nother pipe, pidgin," drawled a very drowsy voice from bill

bean's corner.

ah-fang-fu left his eternal arranging and rearranging of the cards and crossed the room. he took the opium-pipe from the fireman's limp fingers and returning to the box, refilled and lighted it. max and stuart watched him in silence until he had handed the second pipe to the man and returned to his chair.

"we must be very careful," said stuart. "we do not know which are real smokers and which are not."

again there was a weird interruption. a chinaman lying in one of the bunks began to chant in a monotonous far-away voice:

"chong-liou-chouay

om mani padme hum."

"the buddhist formula," whispered stuart. "he is a real smoker.

heavens! the reek is choking me!"

the chant was repeated, the words dying away into a long murmur. ah-fang-fu continued to shuffle the cards. and presently bill bean's second pipe dropped from his fingers. his husky voice spoke almost inaudibly.

"i'm … old … bill … bean … i …"

a deep-noted siren hooted dimly.

"a steamer making for dock," whispered max. "brr! it is a nightmare, this! i think in a minute something will happen. ssh!"

ah-fang-fu glanced slowly around. then he stood up, raised the lamp from the table and made a tour of the bunks, shining the light in upon the faces of the occupants. max watched him closely, hoping to learn in which bunks the members of 'the scorpion's' group lay. but he was disappointed. ah-fang-fu examined all the bunks and even shone the light down upon stuart and max. he muttered to himself constantly, but seemed to address no one.

replacing the lamp on the box, he whistled softly; and:——

"look!" breathed max. "the stair again!"

stuart cautiously turned his eyes toward the open stair.

on the platform above stood a bent old hag whose witch-eyes were searching the place keenly! with a curiously lithe step, for all her age, she descended, and standing behind ah-fang-fu tapped him on the shoulder and pointed to the outer door. he stood up and shuffled across, went up the four steps and unbarred the door.

"tchee, tchee," he chattered. "pidgin make a look-out."

he went out and closed the door.

"something happens!" whispered max.

a gong sounded.

"ah!"

the old woman approached the matting curtain hung over a portion of the wall, raised it slightly in the centre—where it opened—and disappeared beyond.

"you see!" said stuart excitedly.

"yes! it is the audience-chamber of 'the scorpion'!"

the ancient hag came out again, crossed to a bunk and touched its occupant, a chinaman, with her hand. he immediately shot up and followed her. the two disappeared beyond the curtain.

"what shall we do," said stuart, "if you are summoned?"

"i shall throw open those curtains the moment i reach them, and present my pistol at the head of whoever is on the other side. you—ssh!"

the old woman reappeared, looked slowly around and then held the curtains slightly apart to allow of the chinaman's coming out. he saluted her by touching his head, lips and breast with his right hand, then passed up to the door communicating with the shop, which he opened, and went out.

his voice came, muffled:

"fo-hi!"

"fo-hi," returned the high voice of ah-fang-fu.

the outer door was opened and shut. the old woman went up and barred the inner door, then returned and stood by the matting curtain. the sound of the water below alone broke the silence. it was the hour of high tide.

"there goes the first fish into dunbar's net!" whispered max.

the gong sounded again.

thereupon the old woman crossed to another bunk and conducted a brown-skinned eastern into the hidden room. immediately they had disappeared:

"as i pull the curtains aside," continued max rapidly, "blow the whistle and run across and unbar the door…."

so engrossed was he in giving these directions, and so engrossed was stuart in listening to them, that neither detected a faint creak which proceeded from almost immediately behind them. this sound was occasioned by the slow and cautious opening of that sunken, heavy door near to which they lay—the door which communicated with the labyrinth of cellars. inch by inch from the opening protruded the head of ah-fang-fu!

"if the chinaman offers any resistance," max went on, speaking very rapidly—"morbleu! you have the means to deal with him! in a word, admit the police. sh! what is that!"

a moaning voice from one of the bunks came.

"cheal kegur-men, mas ka dheer!"

"a native adage," whispered stuart. "he is dreaming. 'there is always meat in a kite's nest.'"

"eh bien! very true—and i think the kite is at home!"

the head of ah-fang-fu vanished. a moment later the curtains opened again slightly and the old woman came out, ushering the brown man. he saluted her and unbarred the door, going out.

"fo-hi," came dimly.

there was no definite answer—only the sound of a muttered colloquy; and suddenly the brown man returned and spoke to the old woman in a voice so low that his words were inaudible to the two attentive listeners in the distant corner.

"ah!" whispered max—"what now?"

"shall we rush the curtain!" said stuart.

"no!" max grasped his arm—"wait! wait! see! he is going out. he has perhaps forgotten something. a second fish in the net."

the oriental went up the steps into the shop. the old woman closed and barred the door, then opened the matting curtain and disappeared within.

"i was right," said max.

but for once in his career he was wrong.

she was out again almost immediately and bending over a bunk close to the left of the masked opening. the occupant concealed in its shadow did not rise and follow her, however. she seemed to be speaking to him. stuart and max watched intently.

the head of ah-fang-fu reappeared in the doorway behind them.

"now is our time!" whispered max tensely. "as i rush for the curtains, you run to the shop door and get it unbolted, whistling for dunbar——"

ah-fang-fu, fully opening the door behind them, crept out stealthily.

"have your pistol ready," continued max, "and first put the whistle between your teeth——"

ah-fang-fu silently placed his bowler hat upon the floor, shook down his long pigtail, and moving with catlike tread, stooping, drew nearer.

"now, doctor!" cried max.

both sprang to their feet. max leapt clear of the matting and other litter and dashed for the curtain. he reached it, seized it and tore bodily from its fastenings. behind him the long flat note of a police whistle sounded—and ended abruptly.

"ah! nom d'un nom!" cried max.

a cunningly devised door—looking like a section of solid brick and plaster wall—was closing slowly—heavily. through the opening which yet remained he caught a glimpse of a small room, draped with chinese dragon tapestry and having upon a raised, carpeted dais a number of cushions forming a diwan and an inlaid table bearing a silver snuff vase. a cowled figure was seated upon the dais. the door closed completely. within a niche in its centre sat a yellow leering idol, green eyed and complacent.

wild, gurgling cries brought max sharply about.

an answering whistle sounded from the street outside … a second … a third.

ah-fang-fu, stooping ever lower, at the instant that stuart had sprung to his feet had seized his ankle from behind, pitching him on to his face. it was then that the note of the whistle had ceased. now, the chinaman had his long pigtail about stuart's neck, at which stuart, prone with the other kneeling upon his body, plucked vainly.

max raised his pistol … and from the bunk almost at his elbow leapt

miguel the quadroon, a sand-bag raised. it descended upon the

frenchman's skull … and he crumbled up limply and collapsed upon

the floor. there came a crash of broken glass from the shop.

uttering a piercing cry, the old woman staggered from the door near which she had been standing as if stricken helpless, during the lightning moments in which these things had happened—and advanced in the direction of ah-fang-fu.

"ah, god! you kill him! you kill him?" she moaned.

"through the window, sowerby! this way!" came dunbar's voice. "max!

max!"

the sustained note of a whistle, a confusion of voices and a sound of heavy steps proclaimed the entrance of the police into the shop and the summoning of reinforcements.

ah-fang-fu rose. stuart had ceased to struggle. the chinaman replaced his hat and looked up at the woman, whose eyes glared madly into his own.

"tche', tche'e," he said sibilantly—"tchon-dzee-ti fan-fu.*"

* "yes, yes. it is the will of the master."

"down with the door!" roared dunbar.

the woman threw herself, with a wild sob, upon the motionless body of

stuart.

ensued a series of splintering crashes, and finally the head of an axe appeared through the panels of the door. ah-fang-fu tried to drag the woman away, but she clung to stuart desperately and was immovable. thereupon the huge quadroon, running across the room, swept them both up into his giant embrace, man and woman together, and bore them down by the sunken doorway into the cellars below!

the shop door fell inwards, crashing down the four steps, and dunbar sprang into the place, revolver in hand, followed by inspector kelly and four men of the river police, one of whom carried a hurricane lantern. ah-fang-fu had just descended after miguel and closed the heavy door.

"try this way, boys!" cried kelly, and rushed up the stair. the four men followed him. the lantern was left on the floor. dunbar stared about him. sowerby and several other men entered. suddenly dunbar saw gaston max lying on the floor.

"my god!" he cried—"they have killed him!"

he ran across, knelt and examined max, pressing his ear against his breast.

inspector kelly reaching the top of the stairs and finding the door locked, hurled his great bulk against it and burst it open.

"follow me, boys!" he cried. "take care! bring the lantern, somebody."

the fourth man grasped the lantern and all followed the inspector up the stair and out through the doorway. his voice came dimly:

"mind the beam! pass the light forward…."

sowerby was struggling with the door by which miguel and ah-fang-fu unseen had made their escape and dunbar, having rested max's head upon a pillow, was glaring all about him, his square jaw set grimly and his eyes fierce with anger.

a voice droned from a bunk:

"cheal kegur men ms ka-dheer!"

the police were moving from bunk to bunk, scrutinising the occupants.

the uproar had penetrated to them even in their drugged slumbers.

there were stirrings and mutterings and movements of yellow hands.

"but where is 'the scorpion'?"

he turned and stared at the wall from which the matting had been torn. and out of the little niche in the cunningly masked door the green-eyed joss leered at him complacently.