"
"You are wise," the voice replied. "A statement will be placed
before you for signature. When you have signed it, ring the bell
again, and in a few minutes you will be free."
Vaguely he detected the speaker withdrawing. Thereupon, heaving a
loud sigh, he removed his coat, looked about him as if in quest
of some place to hang it, and finally, fixing his gaze upon the
studded grating, stood upon the divan and hung his coat over the
spy-hole! This accomplished, he turned.
The table was slowly sinking through the gap in the floor
beneath.
Treading softly, he moved forward and seated himself cross-legged
upon it! It continued to descend, and he found himself in
absolute darkness.
Nicol Brinn ran on to the veranda and paused for a moment to take
breath. The window remained open, as Phil Abingdon had left it.
He stepped into the room with its elegant Persian appointments.
It was empty. But as he crossed the threshold, he paused,
arrested by the sound of a voice.
"A statement will be placed before you," said the voice, "and
when you have signed it, in a few minutes you will be free."
Nicol Brinn silently dropped flat at the back of a divan, as Rama
Dass, coming out of the room which communicated with the golden
screen, made his way toward the distant door. Having one eye
raised above the top of the cushions, Nicol Brinn watched him,
recognizing the man who had accompanied the swooning lady.
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