"Quick—where is she? You'll die like a spiked rat. Where?" he roared.
The two other Chinamen were kneeling before the Joss.
There was a moment's silence, then a strange sound—like a cry heard afar off.
Harry strode to the little pedestal where the suit of armor stood.
"Where is she?—or I'll rip this place to cockles!" he thundered.
"We do not know what you mean," said the priest.
The two Chinamen began to jabber.
Other figures reeled from the room behind the curtains. But over all their clamor sounded again the faint cry—distant, but near.
In a flash Harry caught from the mailed glove the haft of the sword. As he rushed across the room the Chinese withered away from him. There was a crash as the great sword fell upon one of the windows. Through the broken pane Harry shouted for help. His voice was like a clarion in the silent streets.
He turned in time. Three Chinamen, with drawn knives, were upon him. He swung the unwieldy sword above his head. Its sweep saved him. He dashed at the Joss. Again he lifted the sword. A grasp and then a wail of fear sounded through the room.