“Hold her!” whispered Gianapolis in a voice barely audible, as Max burst into the room.  “She came back for this and...  I followed her.  She has the strength of... a tigress!”

Max hurled himself into the melee, grasping the wrist of the Eurasian below where it was clutched by Gianapolis.  Nodding to the Greek to release his hold, he twisted it smartly upward.

The dagger fell upon the floor, and with an animal shriek of rage, the Eurasian tottered back.  Max caught her about the waist and tossed her unceremoniously into a corner of the room.

Helen Cumberly slipped from the bed, and lay very white and still upon the garish carpet, with four tiny red streams trickling from the nail punctures in her throat.  Max stooped and raised her shoulders; he glanced at the Greek, who, quivering in all his limbs, and on the verge of collapse, only kept himself upright by dint of clutching at the side of the doorway.  Max realized that Gianapolis was past aiding him; his own resources were nearly exhausted, but, stooping, he managed to lift the girl and to carry her out into the corridor.

“Follow me!” he gasped, glancing back at Gianapolis; “Morbleu, make an effort!  The keys—­the keys!”

Laying Helen Cumberly upon one of the raised divans, with her head resting upon a silken cushion, Max, teeth tightly clenched and dreadfully conscious that his strength was failing him, waited for Gianapolis.  Out from the corridor the Greek came staggering, and Max now perceived that he was bleeding profusely from a wound in the breast.

“She came back,” whispered Gianapolis, clutching at the Frenchman for support... “the hellcat!...  I did not know... that...  Miss Cumberly was here.  As God is my witness I did not know!  But I followed...  Her—­Mahara... thank God I did!  She has finished me, I think, but”—­he lowered the crooked eyes to the form of Helen Cumberly—­“never mind...  Saints!”

He reeled and sank upon his knees.  He clutched at the edge of his coat and raised it to his lips, wherefrom blood was gushing forth.  Max stooped eagerly, for as the Greek had collapsed upon the floor, he had heard the rattle of keys.

“She had... the keys,” whispered Gianapolis.  “They have... tabs... upon them...  Mrs. Leroux... number 3 B. The door to the stair”—­very, very slowly, he inclined his head toward the ebony door near which Max was standing—­“is marked X. The door... at the top—­into garage...  B.”

“Tell me,” said Max, his arm about the dying man’s shoulders—­“try to tell me:  who killed Mrs. Vernon and why?”

“Mr. King!” came in a rattling voice.  “Because of the... carelessness of someone...  Mrs. Vernon wandered into the room ... of Mrs. Leroux.  She seems to have had a fit of remorse... or something like it.  She begged Mrs. Leroux to pull up... before... too late.  Ho-Pin arrived just as she was crying to ...  Mrs. Leroux... and asking if she could ever forgive her ... for bringing her here....  It was Mrs. Vernon who... introduced Mrs....  Leroux.  Ho-Pin heard her... say that she ... would tell...  Leroux the truth... as the only means"...