There came a dull report of parting mechanism, more sounds of splintering wood... and the door rolled open! A moment of tense silence, then: “Is anyone inside there?” cried the Inspector loudly. Not a sound came from the dark interior. “The lantern!” whispered Monte Irvin. He stumbled into the room, from which a heavy smell of perfume swept out upon the landing. Quentin Gray, snatching the lantern from the floor, where it had been replaced, was the next to enter. “Look for the switch, and turn the lights on!” called the Inspector, following. Even as he spoke, Gray had found the switch, and the apartment of Kazmah became flooded with subdued light. A glance showed it to be unoccupied. Gray ran across to the _mushrabîyeh_ cabinet and jerked the curtains aside. There was no one in the cabinet. It contained a chair and a table. Upon the latter was a telephone and some papers and books. “This way!” he cried, his voice high pitched and unnatural. He burst through the doorway into the inner room which he had seen Mrs. Irvin enter. The air was laden with the smell of frankincense. “A lantern!” he called. “I left one on the divan.” But Monte Irvin had caught it up and was already at his elbow. His hand was shaking so that the light danced wildly now upon the carpet, now upon the green walls. This room also was deserted. A black gap in the curtain showed where the material had been roughly torn. Suddenly: “My God, look!” muttered the Inspector, who, with the others, now stood in the curious draped apartment. A thin stream of blood was trickling out from beneath the torn hangings! Monte Irvin staggered and fell back against the Inspector, clutching at him for support. But Sergeant Burton, who carried the second lantern, crossed the room and wrenched the green draperies bodily from their fastenings. They had masked a wooden partition or stout screen, having an aperture in the centre which could be closed by means of another of the sliding doors. A space some five feet deep was thus walled off from this second room. It contained a massive ebony chair. Behind the chair, and dividing the second room into yet a third section, extended another wooden partition in one end of which was an ordinary office door; and immediately at the back of the chair appeared a little opening or window, some three feet up from the floor. The sound of a groan, followed by that of a dull thud, came from the outer room. “Hullo!” cried Inspector Whiteleaf. “Mr. Irvin has fainted. Lend a hand.” “I am here,” replied the quiet voice of Seton Pasha. “My God!” whispered Gray. “Seton! Seton!” “Touch nothing,” cried the Inspector from outside, “until I come!” And now the narrow apartment became filled with all the awe-stricken company, only excepting Monte Irvin, and Brisley, who was attending to the swooning man.