consequences of your hideous treachery. I trusted you, Mrs. Bunting,
and you betrayed me! Put I am protected by a higher power, for
I still have much to do." Then, his voice sinking to a whisper, he
hissed out "Your end will be bitter as wormwood and sharp as a
two-edged sword. Your feet shall go down to death, and your steps
take hold on hell."

Even while Mr. Sleuth was muttering these strange, dreadful words,
he was looking round, glancing this way and that, seeking a way of
escape.

At last his eyes became fixed on a small placard placed above a
curtain. "Emergency Exit" was written there. Mrs. Bunting thought
he was going to make a dash for the place; but Mr. Sleuth did
something very different. Leaving his landlady's side, he walked
over to the turnstile, he fumbled in his pocket for a moment, and
then touched the man on the arm. "I feel ill," he said, speaking
very rapidly; "very ill indeed! It is the atmosphere of this place.
I want you to let me out by the quickest way. It would be a pity
for me to faint here--especially with ladies about."

His left hand shot out and placed what he had been fumbling for in
his pocket on the other's bare palm. "I see there's an emergency
exit over there. Would it be possible for me to get out that way?"

"Well, yes, sir; I think so."

The man hesitated; he felt a slight, a very sight, feeling of
misgiving. He looked at Daisy, flushed and smiling, happy and
unconcerned, and then at Mrs. Bunting. She was very pale; but