There was a commotion of some kind above her head. Marion listened intently as she crouched in the semi-darkness. “Some trouble in the laundry,” said the musical voice. “A great scheme, that laundry in the front of this building.” “Nevertheless that noise sounds serious,” said Green, again. There was the sound of chairs moving as if they had both risen. Marion listened again. The noise above her head was growing louder. Not only were there sounds of trampling feet, but a great confusion of voices, all talking together. Suddenly Marion heard a crash and a fearful shriek, then a score of slip-shod feet seemed scampering to shelter. For an instant the young girl stood almost petrified with fear; then she turned and fled through the narrow hall-way, hardly knowing or caring in which direction. CHAPTER XIV. THE END OF THE TRAGEDY. A sharp turn in the hallway caused Marion to shriek with terror. Two hideous Chinamen had sprung at her, and as they caught her in their arms, one of the beady-eyed wretches forced a saturated cloth over her nostrils. Marion felt her breath coming in quick, short gasps. She struggled feebly, but her brain seemed reeling. In a flash she was carried along the hall, down a flight of steep steps, and then, after the click of a key in a lock, she was taken into a room that was as dark as a dungeon. A confused jargon of voices came faintly to her ears and she could feel that the place was fairly swarming with the yellow devils. The entire roomful of beings seemed to fall back as she was carried along, and at last she was placed on a sort of divan in the very darkest and most heavily-draped corner of what seemed to her to be a subterranean apartment. The cloth on her nostrils was pungent with narcotics, but she managed by a great effort of the will to somewhat resist its influence. Suddenly the light of a swinging lamp flashed from somewhere above her head, and one glance about her made Marion’s heart grow sick with horror. A score or more of those gaunt-cheeked fellows were surrounding her, and as the first ray of the lamp fell upon her face, they all pressed forward and peered at her sharply. In the onslaught which his companions made on him the fellow who was holding the cloth to Marion’s face dropped it from his fingers, and with the first clear breath Marion dashed to her feet and confronted them. “Stand back! Don’t you dare to touch me!” she cried, springing up on the divan, which stood directly under the hanging lamp. In a second a dozen pairs of long, skinny hands were reached out for her, and as Marion felt them clutching her arms and body, she gave a shriek that awoke the echoes. The next instant she reached up quickly and, with one blow of her white hand, shivered the glass of the lamp; then, with the flame blowing wildly in the draughts of the room, she broke it from its fastenings and began swinging it like a censer.