"While we sat there ready for an ambush that didn't materialize," added d'Artois. Farrell turned to the door. D'Artois seized him by the arm. "_Tenez!_ If you are going to tear the château to pieces," he said, "spare yourself the trouble. They have taken her elsewhere. No effort was made to detain us when we left because none was necessary. And they will not be at the château, not any of them." Farrell's eyes were cold as sword-points as they flashed back again to the empty, canopied bed. Then the slaying rage left him. "Right, Pierre," he admitted. "It's your move. With some head-work." "Head-work, indeed!" retorted d'Artois with a bitter, mordant laugh. "It was my head-work that led to this. We should have watched her." _5. Ibrahim Khan_ "Now, where do we start?" demanded Farrell the following morning, as he tasted the strong coffee that was to banish the remains of the nightmarish sleep from which sunrise had awakened them. "You've got the _Sûreté_--that's what you call your detective bureau, isn't it?--on the trail. But there's a lot of this that no honest policeman could swallow." "It is indeed a madhouse," admitted d'Artois. "But let us sum up for a moment: Antoinette is evidently _en rapport_ with some one in that Garden; some one with whom she identifies herself, and whose savage beatings in some way leave marks on Antoinette's body. "By means of clairvoyance or other unusual perception, she recognized the Marquis in her dream garden, her description of which tallies closely with the traditional paradise devised by the higher Ismailians for the deluding of their fanatical assassins. "Assassins operating very much like the _fedawi_ of five centuries ago murdered La Dorada, the sweetheart of the Marquis. La Dorada bears a marked resemblance to Antoinette, though far from enough to make her a double, except under the most favorable conditions. "The terribly resurrected La Dorada last night spoke of a Garden. And the dying La Dorada pronounced the name Hassan just before she expired in the plaza. Through the whole chain of horror and deviltry, we see a continuous linkage of the Ismailians and the _hasheeshin_ of accursed memory. "Antoinette," continued d'Artois, "must in some way be involved in a mesh of necromancy and murder that hinges on her resemblance to La Dorada. It is not impossible that she was kidnapped to double for La Dorada in that accursed Garden. "And finally," concluded d'Artois, "this society of thaumaturges, which has made such overgrown fools of us, is obviously allied to or even an integral part of the society of Ismailians and its higher orders, adepts, occultists, necromancers, and devil-mongers of all degrees." "Now that you've summed it up, what are we going to do?" reiterated Farrell. "You will take the trail at once," replied d'Artois. Farrell brightened perceptibly at the hint of direct action. "Shoot," he said bruskly.