Cold anticipation settled upon him. He inserted a fingernail under the band that bound the oval; hesitated, stayed by a queer reluctance. He held what he believed to be a key to the mystery of Manlove's death. A single move and the name engraved within would be disclosed—the identity.... But suppose there was no name; suppose—
He pressed under the silver band ... and a knock sounded on the door.
3
Trent did not stir for a space of several seconds. Then, reluctantly, he placed the pendant under his pillow and opened the door.
A grotesque effigy grinned at him. After an intent scrutiny he recognized Tambusami—Tambusami, turbanless, blood welling from a cut in his cheek, but, despite the wound, smiling.
"I have him, Presence!" he announced.
"Who?"
The native looked amazed at what he evidently considered gross stupidity, and elucidated:
"The he-goat that came to your window! It was he who—"
Trent cut in. "Where is he?"