More than that, she knows the danger of Chinatown only too well. The house was one of the old tenements on Mott street which had been provided with extensions and raised up several stories. The rooms were numbered, and the number of the room given by old Fen Wix was on the third floor. The door proved to be still unfastened as Alice had left it, and with Old King Brady she entered the vacant room. Here there was considerable rubbish strewn about, which bore evidence of the hasty move. "And now for the secret panel," said Old King Brady. "It does beat the cars how the Chinks make those things. Probably there is an entrance here into the secret dens of Pell street." The search began. The work was such as Old King Brady is most expert at, and it was not long before he had unearthed a secret panel, but it certainly did not look as if it could be the right one. For it opened upon what seemed to be just a dumbwaiter shaft. A rope running over a pulley hung down into it; there was no ladder or stairs. Old King Brady pulled on the rope. "There seems to be nothing attached to this," he declared. And so it proved. When he got the end of the rope up he found that it had been severed with a sharp knife, and the cut looked to be quite fresh. "Another Chinese mystery," observed Alice. "No mystery about this business," was the reply. "Our coming has been anticipated, that's all. This means has been taken to head us off. It is plain enough." "Perhaps there is another panel, Mr. Brady." "It would be no surprise to me if we found a dozen of them, but, incidentally, Alice, I have been rather stupid." "How do you mean?" "Why, this rope works two ways, and I have only pulled one way. Now I propose to proceed to pull the other. Ha! the rope is weighted at the other end!" Not only that, but the weight was good and heavy. It was more than Old King Brady wanted to do to pull it up alone. Alice took hold to help. Whatever the weight was they could hear it striking the sides of the narrow shaft with a peculiar dull thud. It both felt and sounded like a human body, and it made Alice fairly sick, for, of course, she could not help thinking of Harry. "Here! You let go! You'll faint next," muttered Old King Brady. He was able to read her thoughts. Indeed, Alice was as white as a sheet. "Oh, Mr. Brady, do you think it can be poor Harry?" she gasped, continuing to pull. "Nonsense! Nonsense!" retorted the old detective. But although he would not admit it, he did think it was Harry just the same. They kept on pulling, and in a moment the strain was over. The thing which came up at the end of the rope was, indeed, a human body. But it was not Young King Brady. The old detective and Alice found themselves gazing upon the ugly face of Fen Wix. The rope was tight around his neck--the old man was dead. "Thank heaven! Not Harry!" gasped Alice.