"Why, this is almost as bad as blackmail," he said, sarcastically. "I don't mind paying a thousand dollars, but five thousand! It is nonsense!" "It has to be or I won't work." "Come, I'll be liberal with you. I'll make it two thousand. Go ahead and find out for me." "Not a cent less than $5,000, Brother Lung." "Dr. Garshaski, I believe you know something definite, that this is a deal to blackmail me." Dr. Garshaski! Harry almost jumped off the couch. Now he knew whose voice he had been listening to. He wondered at himself. How could he ever have forgotten? "That scoundrel!" he thought. "Alice in his hands? This is terrible, but it explains her disappearance, all right." Meanwhile the talk was going right on. "Have it your own way, Mr. Lung," said the doctor, "but you want to decide. Do I work or don't I work? Which?" "I will give up no more than I said. I won't be swindled." "Very well. Then I won't do anything about your Chinese princess. Your opium will be delivered. I am going now. Good-night." "Go," replied Lung. "I shall not forget this, doctor." "No, I don't think you will," replied the doctor, and Harry heard him leave the room. Instantly Ah Lung drew aside the curtain. But Harry did not wait for him to speak. "After him!" he whispered. "I know that fellow! He is a scoundrel! No doubt he is at the bottom of this whole business, and of the disappearance of Miss Montgomery, too." CHAPTER VII. IN A TORTURE CHAMBER. Alice felt that her situation was bad enough as she passed through the "door of death" without Dr. Garshaski adding to it by clap-trap. This she was sure he had done, for while the Chinese characters on the other doors were painted directly on the woodwork, in this case it was a piece of red paper, upon which the character had been written with a Chinese pen. That it had been put there for her special benefit Alice did not doubt. It was just like Dr. Garshaski, who was forever doing something dramatic in the old days. He hurried Alice along the empty corridor and down a short flight of stairs. Coming to a door, he let go his hold and knocked. It was instantly opened by a very Chinese-looking Chinaman wearing a rich native dress. The room was rather small, but well fitted up as a bed chamber, partly in Chinese and partly in American style. In the middle of the floor stood the box which was supposed to contain the Chinese princess. "So you have come at last!" exclaimed the Chinaman in his own language. "I thought you never would." "Patience, Wang Foo," replied the doctor. "We can't get there all in a moment." "But the princess may die. She may be dead now. I believe it. She ought to have been released long ago." "Patience, I tell you. I know my business. She is in no danger of death whatever." "And the woman you were to bring to look after her. She must have an attendant. She is not to be ill treated. She is of my own blood." "The woman is here." "What, a white woman?" "Yes."