Stolburst wore a heavy cloak, and underneath its folds his right hand grasped the handle of a revolver. He was directed by a policeman to the Barge Office. The building was closed, and no Marie awaited him. Stolburst walked slowly up and down. Crunch! A heavy blow was struck him with a piece of iron pipe from behind. He fell inanimate to the pavement. It was hours afterward when Stolburst regained consciousness. Then he found himself in a room without windows that was hung on all four sides with very brilliant red curtains. In the middle of the room, and underneath a chandelier, stood an Abyssinian, dressed in the garb of his country. Stolburst rubbed his eyes. For a moment he believed himself back in Africa. Then, with a rush, everything came to him. “Trapped like a fool!” he muttered. The Abyssinian he recognized as one of Ajeeb’s familiars. “Deth,” said the prisoner, “how came I here?” The man did not answer. Stolburst saw that the fellow was armed with a short and heavy sword. “Have you lost your tongue?” Still no reply. Stolburst put his hand to his head. He found a lump there, and he suffered great pain. Upon placing his fingers upon the spot where he had been struck, he discovered the Abyssinian had been doctoring him. Everything about him, even to the lounge upon which he found himself stretched, and the sweet, aromatic odor that pervaded the atmosphere, suggested the Orient. “Deth, why the devil don’t you speak?” he cried, assuming a sitting position. A cruel smile played across the Abyssinian’s dark features, and he clapped his hands three times in rapid succession. The curtains at one side of the room parted. Ajeeb appeared. “Go!” Deth obeyed his master’s command. A fiercely triumphant expression appeared in Ajeeb’s eyes as he steadily regarded his prisoner. “You spoke about police protection,” he said. “The police were not able to protect you. Base vandal, I, Ajeeb, never make idle threats. “You are in my power, and beyond the reach of help. In a few hours Ajeeb will rack your body. Give up the green diamond, and be saved from torture.” Stolburst looked steadfastly at his companion. Ajeeb bore a terrible reputation for cruelty among those who knew him best. It even struck Stolburst as odd that right in the great city of New York this fellow could carry out his practises. The prisoner believed himself doomed. Ajeeb’s cold, cruel, and crafty features seemed to enchant him. Try as Stolburst might, he could not keep his gaze off the man. The Abyssinian wore a rich silken cloak wound around the upper portion of the body, leaving his arms and legs naked. In his hand he held a simitar, studded with jewels. Stolburst was a brave man, but he certainly felt a fluttering at the heart. His prospects of leaving that place alive were dim. He did not suspect Barry of being the knowing tool of Ajeeb. Instead, he condemned Zulima for his being in his then position.