I had an impression that Chinje dashed forward in a vain attempt to conceal the cage ere Moris Klaw entered. I saw, as one sees figures in a dream, a pretty, fair-haired girl in the room. Then the Hindu had leapt to an inner door--and was gone! “Quick!” cried Klaw, in a loud voice. “The door! The door!” He brushed the girl aside with a sweep of his arm and hurled himself against the locked door. “Mr. Grimsby! Mr. Searles! Someone! Help with this door. Isis! hold her back, this foolish girl!” The inner meaning of the scene was a mystery to us all, but the urgency of Moris Klaw’s instructions brooked no denial. With a shrill scream the girl threw herself upon him, but Isis, exhibiting unsuspected strength, drew her away. Then Sir John Carron joined Klaw at the door and they applied their combined weights to the task of forcing it open. Once they put their shoulders to it; twice--and there was a sound of tearing woodwork; a third time--and it flew open, almost precipitating them both into the room beyond. Hard on the din of the opening rang the crack of a pistol shot. A wisp of smoke came floating out. “Ah, just God!” said Moris Klaw, hoarsely, “we are too late!” And, at his words, with a leap like that of a wild thing, the fair girl broke from Isis, and passing us all, entered the room beyond. Awed and fearful, we followed and looked upon a pitiful scene. Gautami Chinje lay dead upon the floor, a revolver yet between his nerveless fingers and a red spot in his temple. Beside him knelt the girl, plucking with both hands at her lower lip, her face as white as paper and her eyes glaring insanely at the distorted features. “Dearest,” she kept whispering, in a listless way, “my dearest--what is the matter? I have the diamond--I have it in my bag. What is it, my dearest?” We got her away at last. “He had only been in London six months,” Moris Klaw rumbled in my ear, “and you see, she adored him--helped him to steal. It is wonderful, snake-like, the power of fascination some Hindus have over women--and always over blondes, Mr. Searles, always blondes. It is a psychological problem.” So ended the case of the Blue Rajah robbery, one of the most brief in the annals of Moris Klaw. The great diamond we found in the girl’s handbag, wrapped in a curious little rubber covering, apparently made to fit it.