“I understand,” said the Abyssinian. “Ashah says he is soon to cut off the other.” The explorer gave a great start. He was a brave man, but tears came to his eyes despite his efforts to keep them back. If his life was spared, how could he go out in the world maimed as he was? Only one ear--perhaps none! What would people say who met him? His mental agony was far more keen than his physical sufferings. “Did Ashah tell you this?” “Yes.” “There must be some mistake.” “No; if Ajeeb has not the Eye of Jobu in his possession four days hence, you will lose the other ear.” “Great Heaven! Can such things be in America?” exclaimed Henry Stolburst. It is strange, but true, that this man was actually tortured as described in the heart of New York City. Thousands daily passed the house in which he was a prisoner, but no cry of his could reach them. He might as well be in the depth of Africa as in that cellar, as far as making himself heard outside was concerned. “Deth,” said the explorer, after a pause, “do you like to see me suffer?” “I have seen men killed.” “Why does not Ajeeb kill me?” “He has his reasons.” “How can I give him that accursed diamond when I haven’t got it?” “Do you speak the truth?” “Have I not told you a hundred times that the stone was stolen from me?” “It is very unfortunate.” “What can I do? Come, won’t you listen to my offer again?” Deth shook his head. Henry Stolburst was in despair. “Will you lend me your knife for a moment?” pleaded the prisoner. “No. You would do away with yourself.” “Then I’ll take it!” With the fury of a madman Henry Stolburst sprang at the Abyssinian. His fingers clutched the man’s throat. Deth was taken unawares. With great strength, born of desperation, Henry Stolburst bore the man to the floor. “Stop!” It was Ashah who spoke. Henry Stolburst looked up. Just then the newcomer caught hold of him and dragged him away from Deth. “What does this mean?” asked Ashah. “I wished to provoke him, so he would kill me.” “Your time will come shortly.” CHAPTER XVI. A WISE BARTENDER. The blow that felled Burt Cromwell was delivered by Quick’s bartender. “Well done, Andy!” cried Mike. And then he hastily left. Andy had slipped behind the detective, unperceived by the latter. He threw the sand-bag carelessly on the floor, and got a pitcher of ice-water. Then he set about reviving the unconscious officer. After a little while, Burt Cromwell opened his eyes. Andy helped him into a chair, and produced a bottle of brandy and a glass. “Are you feeling any better, sir?” The bartender was very solicitous. Burt Cromwell stared hard at him. “Who knocked me out? Don’t say you don’t know.” “But I do know,” returned Andy. And he certainly did. Burt Cromwell drank the brandy. “Who was it?” “Simon Costello.” “Who is Simon Costello?” “Don’t you know him?” “I wouldn’t ask, blockhead, if I did,” replied the detective testily.