For a long half-hour we continued our journey. Not once did the man beside me attempt to break his silence. I saw the skyscrapers and busy thoroughfare change to the homes and quieter residential districts, and then at last to a winding, almost deserted way, that led through the dense shadows of the sheds and storehouses that lined its sides.
It was not till now that I felt the first inkling of suspicion. The gloomy surroundings seemed hardly in keeping with the quarters where one might expect to find The Midnight Lady. I was about to say so when a slight noise sounded from behind. At the same instant the cold barrel of a revolver was thrust against the back of my head.
"Steady!" was hissed at me from the darkness. "One shout and it's your last!"
Those seven words were enough to confirm my suspicions. I had been led into a carefully baited trap.
Even as I realized it, the soft voice spoke again: "I am not a man to waste words, O'Hara, so listen carefully to every one of them. Of course this chat may be a bit one-sided, as any refusal on your part means you won't live to hear its ending."
While he spoke he had been following a winding, narrow lane, from which would come the occasional glimmer of some street lamp, its dim rays feebly penetrating the surrounding gloom. No shout or footsteps reached us from the blackness, and the rumbling traffic was distant and dim. The stolid driver was staring into the night as though unaware of the little tragedy beside him.
"It appears as though you have some sort of a scroll that a friend of mine has convinced me should be his. Now I won't mention any names, but I think you know what happened. It was agreed that the scroll would be given to him, and then you promised it to another. So the gentleman has done the wise thing. He came to me and placed the entire matter in my hands. I have promised him results."
The voice hardened. "That scroll will be given to me in the morning, fella, or else"
There was brief pause.
"So I guess that makes your position clear. You will stay with us for the remainder of the night, and tomorrow you will be taken to your hotel by two of my boys, who will assume charge of the parchment and relieve you of the worry its ownership is certain to cause. Needless to say, both of them will be well armed, and the flicker of an eyelash means your death."
There came the faintest whine of well-oiled brakes, and the car was brought to a standstill.
"Ah, journey's end," spoke the voice from the rear. "And surely my poor knees will welcome the change." Then as an afterthought: "But perhaps it would be just as well if you were to remain in ignorance of your whereabouts."
There was something ominous about those last words, and at the same instant the gun had been withdrawn from my head. Then came the sound of a moving form behind me. In a flash I had wheeled that I might strike one blow, even if it were to be my last, but too late. The man behind had risen and was swinging his weapon above him, and though I made a frantic effort to dodge it, the heavy gun crashed against my head, and I toppled limply forward.
It was, as I afterward learned, but a few minutes later when I regained consciousness. The first sensation was
