CHAPTER V
"Is this a part——" began Peter.
"No, it is not."
Romola's face seemed thin with her growing anxiety. Obviously the tossed knife was not a part of the evening's performance.
"A part of what?" Peggy was inquiring.
"Oh, another joke of the Mongolian smugglers," he explained.
There was a sudden and astounding explosion in the midst of them. The flame of a revolver bathed the whole room in reddish-yellow for an instant. Smoke was rising, the pungent, pale-blue, nitrous smoke of so-called smokeless powder. Anthony Andover had arisen, had delivered his shot at the waving curtain.
Peter gave a grunt of disapproval. "Why did you do that——"
"Look!"