I anticipated a crash which would put an end to my hopes of escape, but my fall was comparatively noiseless—­for I fell upon the body of a man who lay bound up with rope close against the wall!

A moment I stayed as I fell, the chest of my fellow captive rising and falling beneath me as he breathed.  Knowing that my life depended upon retaining a firm hold upon myself, I succeeded in overcoming the dizziness and nausea which threatened to drown my senses, and, moving back so that I knelt upon the floor, I fumbled in my pocket for the electric lamp which I had placed there.  My raincoat had been removed whilst I was unconscious, and with it my pistol, but the lamp was untouched.

I took it out, pressed the button, and directed the ray upon the face of the man beside me.

It was Nayland Smith!

Trussed up and fastened to a ring in the wall he lay, having a cork gag strapped so tightly between his teeth that I wondered how he had escaped suffocation.

But, although a grayish pallor showed through the tan of his skin, his eyes were feverishly bright, and there, as I knelt beside him, I thanked heaven, silently but fervently.

Then, in furious haste, I set to work to remove the gag.  It was most ingeniously secured by means of leather straps buckled at the back of his head, but I unfastened these without much difficulty, and he spat out the gag, uttering an exclamation of disgust.

“Thank God, old man!” he said, huskily.  “Thank God that you are alive!  I saw them drag you in, and I thought . . .”

“I have been thinking the same about you for more than twenty-four hours,” I said, reproachfully.  “Why did you start without—­”

“I did not want you to come, Petrie,” he replied.  “I had a sort of premonition.  You see it was realized; and instead of being as helpless as I, Fate has made you the instrument of my release.  Quick!  You have a knife?  Good!” The old, feverish energy was by no means extinguished in him.  “Cut the ropes about my wrists and ankles, but don’t otherwise disturb them—­”

I set to work eagerly.

“Now,” Smith continued, “put that filthy gag in place again—­but you need not strap it so tightly!  Directly they find that you are alive, they will treat you the same—­you understand?  She has been here three times—­”

“Karamaneh?” . . .

“Ssh!”

I heard a sound like the opening of a distant door.

“Quick! the straps of the gag!” whispered Smith, “and pretend to recover consciousness just as they enter—­”

Clumsily I followed his directions, for my fingers were none too steady, replaced the lamp in my pocket, and threw myself upon the floor.