As Curberry's eyes were looking past him, Dan, with the subconscious instinct of self-preservation, had just time to rise and swerve to one side, when a hand grazed his shoulder. The young man gripped his chair, and swung it up as a barrier between himself and a stout woman, who was immediately behind him. She was dressed in a long, black cloak, with a close-fitting cloth cap, and wore a heavy veil of the motor style, with pieces of mica let in as eyeholes. Not a word did she say, but, seeing Dan's action, drew back with a deep, indrawn breath like the hiss of a baffled snake. "Take care; take care; she has--the serpent poison," gasped Curberry, who was sitting loosely in his chair, gripping his revolver. Halliday remembered the wicked wound on Sir Charles Moon's neck, and his flesh grew cold, for the slightest touch of that morsel of shining steel in Queen Beelzebub's hand meant swift death. "You fiend!" he shouted, and, with a cry of anger, flung the heavy chair fairly at her. With the leap of a pantheress, she sprang to one side, and the chair crashed against the opposite wall, while the woman glided rapidly round to the open door of the terrace. A shot rang out as she reached it, and Dan knew that the dying man had fired on his enemy. Apparently the bullet did not reach its mark, for Queen Beelzebub still moved on, silent, sinister, and dangerous. Halliday flung himself forward to get between her and the door, so as to prevent her escape, but with a faint snarl like a beast at bay she stabbed at him with the death-tip's piece of steel. He leaped back to save himself from being scratched, while Curberry dragged himself painfully to the bell-button near the fire-place, and pressed it with his remaining strength. "I'm done for--call the police. You--you, oh!" He fell prone on the hearth-rug, and the revolver dropped beside him. Halliday ran forward on the impulse of the moment to offer aid, hastily picking up the weapon meanwhile, and as he did so, Queen Beelzebub sprang through the door into the open. "She's making for the aeroplane," cried Dan, and would have followed on the instant, but that Curberry gripped him fast. "Stay, stay! A priest; a clergyman. I'm dying," and a deadly fear became apparent in his glazed eyes, "get a--a--a help!" As he cried, retaining Dan's coat in a grip of iron, the door of the room opened, and the butler with the footman beside him rushed in. The shot, as well as the ringing of the bell, had brought them immediately to the spot. Trying to disengage himself, Dan gave hasty orders. "Send for a doctor; send for a clergyman; send for the police. That woman has murdered your master."