From inside the house had come a snarl! Before I could take another step, I heard a queer, gurgling gasp and a sickening crack. In a second I had bolted around the corner of the casa, rushing madly, my automatic in my hand. Arthur had been leaning against the wall near one of the windows. Now he was crumpling limply to the floor, while the curtains behind him were still fluttering where the arms that had broken his neck had beat jerked back. I dashed through the door, absolutely desperate and utterly reckless. A dark form was bounding down the hall that led to the rear. A frightened cry came from the room in which Mrs. Braymore had been left. I ran down the passageway, furious and desperate, I heard a door slam shut--the door of the storeroom! I made for it, stumbled, and fell into the room on all fours. Evan Graham was in the room, trying to stuff a furry something into an open box! As I sprawled on the floor he whirled and saw me. From his lips issued the identical snarl I had heard five seconds before, and he raised his automatic pistol and fired! CHAPTER IX. THE GORILLA'S SCREAM. I came slowly back to consciousness, feeling weak and giddy. I essayed to move and found I could not. I opened my eyes. Despite the gathering darkness, I discovered that I was seated in a chair in the large room of the casa. A second attempt to move disclosed the fact that I was tied tightly. Alicia stared at me dumbly from an opposite chair, and Mrs. Braymore sat in one corner, her face white and set and her eyes full of horror. Evan was standing at his ease by the doorway, smoking with evident enjoyment. In one of his hands he held a shaggy object that for some seconds held, weakly, my half-focused attention. It was a baglike object, that yet seemed to contain a framework. Not yet awake to full consciousness, I saw that it was strangely animal. It was a mask in the perfect, horrible likeness of a gorilla. Evan turned and saw my eyes open. "Well, Murray, old top," he said amiably. "You caught me, didn't you?" My throat was dry and parched, and my shoulder ached abominably. "What the devil?" I croaked weakly. "Give him some water, Alicia," said Evan cheerfully. "He's thirsty." Alicia gave me water. "He has my pistol," she whispered despairingly as she bent over me. Full consciousness returned with a jerk. Evan had shot me. Evan had snarled at me as he fired. Evan--why Evan must have killed Arthur! He grinned approvingly as he saw me straighten in an instinctive effort to break my bonds. "Ah, feeling better," he commented. "I'm sorry you caught me. I'd have liked to take you back to Ticao and hear you tell the tale of this week's work of ours. You always were a great one for telling tales, Murray." He puffed luxuriously at his cigarette and looked at the gathering darkness outside.