"Not understand," was the almost piteous reply.

Pamela sighed. She had again the air of one being patient with a child.

"See here, Hassan," she went on, "a few days ago I went over that
restaurant from top to bottom with the manager. There is the musicians'
room, isn't there, just over the entrance hall? I suppose those little
glass places in the floor are movable, and then one can hear every word
that is spoken below. I am right so far, am I not?"

Hassan answered nothing. His breathing, however, had become a little
deeper.

"An unsuspecting person, passing from the toilet rooms upstairs, could
easily be induced to enter. I think that there must be another exit
from that room. Yes?"

"Yes!" Hassan faltered.

"To where?"

"The wine-cellars."

"And from there?"

Hassan was suddenly voluble. Truth unlocked his tongue.

"Not know, mistress--not know another thing. No one enters wine-cellar
but three men. One of those not know. If I guess--I, Hassan--I look at