And Mary would witness his humiliation. Nay, she might even be the innocent cause of it. She was within half a dozen yards of him now, separated only by some glass and a curtain. Yet he could not speak to her--could not even see her. Ah! that was her laugh. And that Strathpeffer's raucous voice. Hang Strathpeffer! It was now 8.15. The Hindoos were in the garden. The situation was distracting. At any moment they might enter the Temple room. Ah! there was the sound of movement within. The guests trooped past the door. Their voices died away. All was still. It was nineteen minutes past eight. Travers hesitated no longer. He unbuttoned his top-coat, and, with cap in hand as though he were a guest just come in from a stroll before dinner, he opened the hall door. No one was in sight. He crossed the hall, and stepped lightly up the stairs. At their head he passed a maid. She certainly took him for a guest. He went straight down the great corridor, and then branched to the left. It was the third door ahead. He pulled back the panel as Mary had shown him, undid the bolt from within, and entered. The room was in darkness. He struck a light, half expecting to find the Hindoo disclosed. No, he was alone, and the Pearl still there. It was a room without furniture. In the centre was a replica of the great idol of Agni at the temple from which the Pearl had been looted. The god sat there, smug, cross-legged, and hideous. The eyes fascinated the beholder. The left one was of marble; the right made of a stone worth a prince's ransom--the one known throughout the world as the Black Pearl of Agni. At the god's knees, their holders resting on the floor, were two gigantic candles. Travers lit them. [Illustration: "A CRY OF DESPAIR ESCAPED HIM." (_p. 51._)] Then he stepped quickly to the idol, and sought the left hand of the god. He pressed the nail of the fourth finger. The god's right eyelid lifted, and the complete stone was disclosed. Travers quickly abstracted it, released the lid, and put the Pearl in his pocket. His object was accomplished. But what was that? Listen. There was a sound at the window. The Hindoo was there--beaten by half a minute. Travers turned to the door. Then, impelled by an overpowering curiosity to see the end of the drama, he slipped to another window, and got behind the curtain. There was a faint whistle from below. Hang it, what a fool he'd been! The Baboo had seen the momentary disarrangement of the curtain, and had observed his figure against the light, and now he was alarming his friend. But the latter heeded not. Perhaps he was too excited to understand, or even to hear him.