taking with you the loot; and ever since it has been a running fight.
"Your old comrades could have shot you outright, but that would not restore to them the booty you stole. And you have not dared dispose of it, because it was the only thing that stood between you and death! You see, you can't lie to me. Every lie carries its trade-mark with it, to those who have eyes to see. Now I shall ask you but one question, and let me warn you—if you lie now, you will never leave this place alive!"
He stood up and thrust an accusing finger toward the cowering thief.
"Tell me," said the Chinaman, "the name of the person whom you and your men robbed!"
The beady eyes of Colonel Knight, or "Count von Hondon" as he had once been known in every capital in Europe, glittered with suspicion and fear. His breath caught in his throat, and he unfastened his collar with trembling fingers.
"The name," he said hoarsely, "was—was—"
Ah Wing crossed toward the heavy door and laid his hand upon the knob. His metallic eyes blazed, and he looked down with fierce contempt upon the man trembling before him:
"Will you answer?" he cried. "Or shall I open this door?"
"It was a woman!" Knight whimpered. "Her name was—Madame Celia—"
He broke off and stared at the Chinaman, towering there before the door. Ah Wing had neither spoken nor moved; but there was in the room a disturbance as if a great voice had shouted out a curse.
Slowly the Chinaman came back toward his visitor. His face now was the impassive face of a carved Buddha.
"Colenel Knight;" he said gently, "the high gods have undoubtedly brought you to me. I am the only person in the world who can save you, for I work outside of the laws of men. And I will take your case, now that I fully understand it. But first I will ask you to show me the Resurrection Pendant which you stole from Madam Celia!"
The white man got slowly to his feet, his hands groping at his throat, his eyes protruding, his face the color of dough.
"The pendant!" he whispered through ashen lips. "The Resurrection Pendant! You know—you have heard?"
"Show me the Pendant," repeated Ah Wing inexorably. "I know that you brought it with you tonight, just as I know that you intended, in case I refused to take your case, to try to disappear without returning to your hotel. Show me the Pendant!"
With faltering hands and without removing his fearful eyes from the face of his companion, the crook reached inside his ulster and drew forth a package wrapped in brown paper. This he slowly unfastened, disclosing a jewel case. More and more slowly his fingers fumbled with the catch.
There came a sound from the door—a voice that seemed to have difficulty in filtering through the heavy panels.
"Come out of that, Count! We got you over a barrel! Come out—"
The massive door shook under a terrific blow, as from a sledge. The man in the ulster seemed about to crumple to the floor.
Ah Wing spoke coldly.
"Show me the Pendant!" he repeated. "They cannot break down that door, but if you trifle with me I will open it!"
With hurried fingers the terror-stricken crook threw back the cover of the jewel case, disclosing a mass of diamonds, intricately and skilfully assembled into a great pendant.
CHAPTER TWO
UNDER CHINATOWN
AH WING took a long stride, which brought him close to the man who held the jewel case.
The Oriental's steely eyes were fastened unwaveringly upon the pendant, whose history for half a century had ben transcribed in suffering and death. Misfortune had followed this unique assemblage of perfect stones: death and insanity; the breaking of friendships; the treachery of children toward parents; the murder of lover by lover. And now the mysterious Chinaman seemed to have fallen under the spell of the gems, for he was taking in every detail of their perfection.
For a moment the assault upon the door had ceased, but now it was continued. Heavy blows fell, and the walls of the subterranean apartment shook.
"It will not take your friends long to discover that they cannot reach us by that route," commented Ah Wing tranquilly, turning at last from his inspection of the Resurrection Pendant. "The door has a middle sheeting of boiler iron. It is bullet proof."
He reseated himself, motioning for Colonel Knight to do the same. Absently he watched the white man close the jewel case, wrap it carefully in brown paper, and return it to his ulster pocket.
"And now," continued the Chinaman, "I will ask you to tell me about these men. You say there are five of them? Please describe them to me, one at a time. Tell me all that you can remember as to physical and mental characteristics—I want every detail you can give me."
Colonel Knight sat down heavily. It was obvious that the assault upon the door was shaking his nerves so that he could hardly command his voice. His eyes were the eyes of some hunted thing, which sees itself at the end of a blind alley.
With an evident effort, he tore his glance from the quivering panels and fastened it on his companion.
"Yes," he said hollowly, "there are five of these men, and they have been chosen from the elite of the criminal world. I myself selected them and trained them. Each has his special ability. I will begin with the man whom I considered the brainiest of thein all—the one who was almost my equal in planning and executing a really big robbery. His name is Monte Jerome."
Suddenly the blows on the door ceased; and the room was so still, after the ferocious assault, that it seemed to press on the ear drums of the speaker. He winced and for a moment was silent. Then, resolutely he continued:
"Monte is thirty-five years old. He is less than five feet six, but is broad shouldered and powerful. He grew up in the alleys of a large city. He fought his way to the leadership of gang after gang, and at the time I picked him up was looking for new worlds to conquer. I chose him because of four qualities: his physical strength; his native cunning; his lack of sentiment—or, as it is usually called, 'mercy'—and his absolute freedom from superstition. Monte believes in neither God, man, nor the devil. He was my right-hand man—and it is to his merciless pursuit that I owe my condition!"
Ah Wing had drawn a note-book from his pocket and was jotting down data. He glanced placidly toward the door, which was again shaking under a rain of heavy blows.
"Pray continue!" said he.
Something of the Chinaman's imperturbability was beginning to influence the white man. He went on with greater assurance:
"Next to Monte Jerome in total ability, I always placed the man we called 'Doc.' I never knew his real name. That was not important, as he went under many aliases. Doc was my means of approach to the wealthy men and women—and particularly the latter—upon whom I specialized. He is a university man, and has lived among people of wealth and refinement much of his life.
