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 succeed. The little mistress must be found at any cost."

A great clock in the hall sounded two. The gong boomed out so ominously it seemed at drum-pitch.

"What do you suggest doing?" asked Dick rather helplessly.

"We must find Dolores Cravat," replied Wing Lo emphatically. "And we must begin our search at once. I believe she is hidden somewhere in the house. It would be the logical place to seclude her. No labyrinth in Singapore is less known than the long winding halls of this house. What it was built for, I do not know. It is like a gigantic ugly blot on the color of the city. And Singapore is a town that does not stop at anything. I believe we should begin our search in the library, the room in which Mortimer Davga spends most of his time. It is his custom to keep the door of the room locked when he is away. If there were not many secrets buried there he would not be so careful of it. Other rooms there are in the house filled with treasures equally as rare, yet he guards them not."

So together Wing Lo and Dick crept down the immense winding halls, halls of dazzling blackness that bore down upon them like bales of black wool. They were afraid to strike a light, for such carelessness might spell death. It was slow work, for there were numerous chests and cabinets in the halls, statues and vases which they had to use care not to overturn. Once they paused breathless. They imagined they had heard a door close stealthily in the floor above. They waited, expecting each moment the brewing storm to break. But the silence continued, a silence that tore at their nerves by its intensity.

As they continued onward, Dick held the arm of Wing Lo so that they would not be separated. Wing knew the halls well. He was on familiar ground. But without him Dick would have been utterly lost. The corridors had been lighted dimly when he passed through them to the bedroom. If there had been light, despite the vastness of the house, he might have found his way back, but in that impenetrable jet he was helpless.

And now they reached the library. There was only a slim chance that the door would be unlocked. If Davga carried the key always with him, it was scarcely creditable it would be unlocked now. Yet luck was with them. It was not only unbarred but it was standing wide open. It was a bit of neglect on Davga's part and it served their purpose. Cautiously they crept into the room. The blackness even there was intense. Slowly step by step they edged their way toward the farthest wall. And now it seemed as though they could hear some one calling, calling faintly for help. Was it purely imagination? Was it the wind in the willows outside the window? Or was it Yeh Ming Hsin? Had he succeeded in freeing himself from his bonds?

They listened breathlessly. Presently the sound came again, more distinctly. Dick's heart commenced to pound wildly, for it was the voice of Dolores and she was calling to him. He worked his way to the wall and placed his ear against it. Once more he heard her voice, a voice which he could never forget. He decided to risk everything. "Dolores," he murmured softly, "Dolores." At that there came a tapping on the wall. It was true! It was not imagination. She was imprisoned in the wall. Perhaps there was a hidden room with a secret panel leading to it. This was the reason Mortimer Davga kept the chamber locked.

Dick Varney uttered an oath. "The lights!" he cried. "Turn on the lights!" Wing Lo obeyed at once. Death might