A shriek, loud and long drawn out, echoed and reechoed throughout the house. Both men started.
“What can this mean?” cried Barry.
“Come.”
Ajeeb led the way to the cellar.
There, on the floor of the red-curtained apartment, lay Deth, with his own poniard driven into his breast.
In one corner stood Stolburst, and he trembled with fear.
Enoch Cook had disappeared. Barry and Ajeeb had passed him in the darkness as they came down the cellar stairs. Cook had flattened himself out as much as possible against the wall. When they passed, Enoch ran lightly up-stairs and passed out of doors.
His attack on Deth had been so sudden, and his execution so swift, that for a moment Stolburst was paralyzed. Before he regained complete possession of his faculties, Ajeeb and Barry appeared. Then flight was out of question.
Ajeeb’s face was black with passion when he comprehended what had occurred. He raised Deth’s head.
A sound similar to the howl of a dog escaped the heathen priest. The man was dead.