“I will communicate with you,” he said, and the words were spoken almost hurriedly. “Depart in peace—“; a formula wherewith he terminated every seance. He lowered his hand. The silver gong sounded again—and the dim light began to fade. Thereupon the unhappy woman acted; the long suppressed outburst came at last. Stepping rapidly to the green transparent veil behind which Kazmah was seated, she wrenched it asunder and leapt toward the figure in the black chair. “You shall not trick me!” she panted. “Hear me out or I go straight to the police—now—_now!_” She grasped the hands of Kazmah as they rested motionless, on the chair-arms. Complete darkness came. Out of it rose a husky, terrified cry—a second, louder cry; and then a long, wailing scream... horror-laden as that of one who has touched some slumbering reptile.... CHAPTER IV. THE CLOSED DOOR Rather less than five minutes later a taxicab drew up in old Bond Street, and from it Quentin Gray leapt out impetuously and ran in at the doorway leading to Kazmah’s stairs. So hurried was his progress that he collided violently with a little man who, carrying himself with a pronounced stoop, was slinking furtively out. The little man reeled at the impact and almost fell, but: “Hang it all!” cried Gray irritably. “Why the devil don’t you look where you’re going!” He glared angrily into the face of the other. It was a peculiar and rememberable face, notable because of a long, sharp, hooked nose and very little, foxy, brown eyes; a sly face to which a small, fair moustache only added insignificance. It was crowned by a wide-brimmed bowler hat which the man wore pressed down upon his ears like a Jew pedlar. “Why!” cried Gray, “this is the second time tonight you have jostled me!” He thought he had recognized the man for the same who had been following himself, Mrs. Irvin and Sir Lucien Pyne along old Bond Street. A smile, intended to be propitiatory, appeared upon the pale face. “No, sir, excuse me, sir—” “Don’t deny it!” said Gray angrily. “If I had the time I should give you in charge as a suspicious loiterer.” Calling to the cabman to wait, he ran up the stairs to the second floor landing. Before the painted door bearing the name of Kazmah he halted, and as the door did not open, stamped impatiently, but with no better result. At that, since there was neither bell nor knocker, he raised his fist and banged loudly. No one responded to the summons. “Hi, there!” he shouted. “Open the door! Pyne! Rita!” Again he banged—and yet again. Then he paused, listening, his ear pressed to the panel. He could detect no sound of movement within. Fists clenched, he stood staring at the closed door, and his fresh color slowly deserted him and left him pale. “Damn him!” he muttered savagely. “Damn him! he has fooled me!”