"It usta be over there, but it's burnt down."
Pauline's face fell. "Well, this is certainly stupid," she exclaimed. "Of course it isn't Weston Street; it's Weston Place, as the letter says."
"But my 'City Guide' ain't got no such place in it, miss," answered the chauffeur.
"Well, I'll go back to, the hotel," she said dejectedly.
She was on the verge of tears as she left the elevator and started for her room. She had looked through all the directories and street guides and knew at last that she had been the victim of a cruel hoax. All her joy and pride of yesterday had turned to humiliation and grief. She wanted to be alone—and have a good cry.
She was puzzled for a moment as she drew her key from her handbag and glanced at the numbers on the doors. She had been almost sure that No. 22 was the left-hand door, but she had been in such excitement that she could not trust any of her impressions. She started to place the key in the lock of the right-hand door.
Like a flash it opened inward and two pairs of hands gripped her. Her cry was stifled by a hand over her mouth. She was dragged into the room.
CHAPTER XXIV
THE MUMMY'S LAST WARNING
Pauline had barely time to recognize in her new captors the four strange men who had attracted her attention on the train, before a bandage was drawn over her eyes, another over her mouth, and cruel, heavy hands began to bind her limbs.