“Wait,” he said to the coolie, as he moved slowly again into the back room.

Long Sin had remained there.  With Weepy Mary he was guarding Elaine when Wu Fang reentered.  Elaine was thoroughly aroused by this time.  Even the fact that Wu no longer held the murderous dirk did not serve to reassure her, for the look on his face was even more terrible than before.

He smiled cunningly to himself.

“Suffering is a state of mind,” he said in a low tone, “and I have decided that it would be poor revenge for me to harm you.  You are free.”

Nothing could have come as a greater surprise to Elaine.  Even Long Sin had not expected any such speech as this.  Elaine, however, was wonder-stricken.

“Do you—­do you really mean it?” she asked, scarcely able to believe what her ears heard.

Wu merely nodded, and with a wave of his hand to Long Sin indicated that Elaine was to be released.

Long Sin, the slave, did not stop to question his master, but merely moved over to a closet and took out the hat and wraps which Elaine had worn when she had been kidnapped in the up-town apartment.  He handed them over to her and she put them on with trembling hands.

No one stopped her and she nerved herself to take several steps toward the door.  She had scarcely crossed half the room.

“Wait!” ordered Wu sharply.

Was he merely torturing her, as a cat might torture a mouse?  She stopped obediently, afraid to look at him.

“This will be the vengeance of Wu Fang,” he went on impressively.  “Slowly, one by one, your friends will weaken and die, then your family, until finally only you are left.  Then will come your turn.”

He stopped again and raised his long lean forefinger.  “Go,” he hissed.  “I wish you much joy.”

He turned to Long Sin and whispered a word to him.  A moment later, Long Sin drew forth a large silken handkerchief and tied it tightly over Elaine’s eyes.  Then he took her hand and led her out.  There was to be no chance by which she could lead a raiding party back to the den in which she had been held.

I don’t think that in all our friendship I have ever seen Kennedy so utterly depressed as he was when we returned after the discovery of the vast fortune which Bennett had cleverly secreted.  I came upon him in the laboratory the next morning while he was trying to read.  He had laid aside his scientific work, and now he had even laid aside his book.

There seemed to be absolutely nothing to do until some new clue turned up.  I placed my hand on his shoulder, but the words that would encourage him died on my lips.  Several times I started to speak, but each time I checked myself.  There did not seem to be anything that would be appropriate for such an occasion.

A sharp ring at the telephone made both of us fairly jump, so nervous had we become.  Kennedy reached over instantly for the instrument in the vague hope that at last there was some news.