Finally came a thud on the bare boards of the floor.

Complete silence ensued.  Kerry waited, muscles tense and brain alert.  He even suspended the chewing operation.  A dull, padding sound reached his ears.

From the quality of the thud which had told of the intruder’s drop from the trap to the floor, Kerry had deduced that he wore rubber-soled shoes.  Now, the sound which he could hear was that of the stranger’s furtive footsteps.  He was approaching the doorway in which Kerry was standing.

Just behind the open door Kerry waited.  And unheralded by any further sound to tell of his approach, the intruder suddenly shone a ray of light right into the room.  He was on the threshold; only the door concealed him from Kerry, and concealed Kerry from the new-comer.

The disc of light cast into the dirty room grew smaller.  The man with the torch was entering.  A hand which grasped a magazine pistol appeared beyond the edge of the door, and Kerry’s period of inactivity came to an end.  Leaning back he adroitly kicked the weapon from the hand of the man who held it!

There was a smothered cry of pain, and the pistol fell clattering on the floor.  The light went out, too.  As it vanished Kerry leapt from his hiding-place.  Snapping on the light of his own pocket lamp, he ran out into the passage.

Crack! came the report of a pistol.

Kerry dropped flat on the floor.  He had not counted on the intruder being armed with two pistols!  His pocket lamp, still alight, fell beside him, and he lay in a curiously rigid attitude on his side, one knee drawn up and his arm thrown across his face.

Carefully avoiding the path of light cast by the fallen torch, the unseen stranger approached silently.  Pistol in hand, he bent, nearer and nearer, striving to see the face of the prostrate man.  Kerry lay deathly still.  The other dropped on one knee and bent closely over him. . . .

Swiftly as a lash Kerry’s arm was whipped around the man’s neck, and helpless he pitched over on to his head!  Uttering a dull groan, he lay heavy and still across Kerry’s body.

“Flames!” muttered the Chief Inspector, extricating himself; “I didn’t mean to break his neck.”

He took up the electric torch, and shone it upon the face of the man on the floor.  It was a dirty, unshaven face, unevenly tanned, as though the man had worn a beard until quite recently and had come from a hot climate.  He was attired in a manner which suggested that he might be a ship’s fireman save that he wore canvas shoes having rubber soles.

Kerry stood watching him for some moments.  Then he groped behind him with one foot until he found the pistol, the second pistol which the man had dropped as he pitched on his skull.  Kerry picked it up, and resting the electric torch upon the crown of his neat bowler hat—­ which lay upon the floor—­he stooped, pistol in hand, and searched the pockets of the prostrate man, who had begun to breathe stertorously.  In the breast pocket he found a leather wallet of good quality; and at this he stared, a curious expression coming into his fierce eyes.  He opened it, and found Treasury notes, some official-looking papers, and a number of cards.  Upon one of these cards be directed the light, and this is what he read: