Colonel Glinka looked behind him and saw that there were others that they had passed within a very few feet of, standing upon every shelf and ledge that afforded a foot-hold above the trail. Dozens and dozens of them. "Maybe we had better scram out of here, Joe," Abdul suggested. "I perceive that you are trying to frighten me," Colonel Glinka said. "It won't work." A stone rattled behind them. "What was that?" Colonel Glinka demanded, turning around quickly. "Who's there?" * * * * * Something moved in the shadows, edging into the deeper shadows of the rocks. It was the pursuing female of earlier that afternoon. Abdul Hakkim ben Salazar, in deep, abdominal disgust, groaned. "Come here, you!" Colonel Glinka commanded. "Come on over here. Don't be afraid, my little one--I won't hurt you." She advanced ever so little, a shapeless white wraith attracted by the syrup in his voice. He took one step forward. Carefully she retreated a step. "Come now," Colonel Glinka said. "Surely it is time that we met. For you may as well know that I am now the master of this island. Now and forevermore, so far as you are concerned, my child. Perhaps I may let you help me clear up a little of its mystery." She kept a maddening five or six feet between them, somehow. He could not lessen the distance without alarming her. And so he balanced himself upon the balls of his feet and lunged. She gave a little cry, stumbled and fell, rolling over and over into a dark little depression beside the path as he clutched at her robe. The garment, still in his hand, unwound easily, peeling her very much like an apple. "I beg your pardon," Colonel Glinka said, scrambling after her upon his hands and knees, groping for her with outstretched arms. "I beg--" His hand touched something which might have been her ankle. He seized it, held it for a moment, and then, shuddering, let it go, drawing back his hand as if it had been stabbed. By now the night was quite dark. Colonel Glinka scrambled to his feet, half instinctively raised the deadly Malacca cane. "Don't do it, Joe!" cried Abdul, coming up from behind him and shoving him hard. The shot went wild, but the sound of it, echoing up and down the ravine, started an ominous, new sound, the growing, staccato murmur of many voices, a rattling of stones, a hundred different movements in the blackness. Colonel Glinka fired the last bullet more wildly still, hurled the Malacca cane at them, and ran. * * * * * Abdul Hakkim ben Salazar, who had been many leaps ahead of him, arrived breathless at the front gate of the villa, opened it, dived through, locked it behind him, and threw himself upon the grass to catch his breath. There was a cheerful glow in the darkness. The slight, grotesque figure of Dr. Stefanik and his pipe emerged from the shadows. "Ah," Abdul breathed, "where were you, Sidi, when I was out there dying for you?"