"God!" he muttered; "this place is a morgue!"
"It certainly isn't healthy!" said an irritable voice from the floor.
"But I think I might survive it if you could spare a second to untie
me."
Kerry's extensive practice in chewing and the enormous development of
his maxillary muscles had stood him in good stead. His keen, strong
teeth had bitten through the extemporized gag, and as a result the
tension of the handkerchief which had held it in place had become
relaxed, enabling him to rid himself of it and to spit out the
fragments of filthy-tasting wood which the biting operation had left
in his mouth.
Seton turned, stooped on one knee to release the captive . . . and
found himself looking into the face of someone who sat crouched upon
the divan behind the Chief Inspector. The figure was that of an
oriental, richly robed. Long, slim, ivory hands rested upon his knees,
and on the first finger of the right hand gleamed a big talismanic
ring. But the face, surmounted by a white turban, was wonderful,
arresting in its immobile intellectual beauty; and from under the
heavy brows a pair of abnormally large eyes looked out hypnotically.
"My God!" whispered Seton, then:
"If you've finished your short prayer," rapped Kerry, "set about my
little job.
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