I must tell you something.

We are both watched and spied on!" whispered a well-known voice.
As Hugh Johnstone turned from the corner, in the darkness, there was a gurgling cry--a half-smothered groan--as Mirzah Shah's poisoned dagger was driven to the hilt between his shoulders.

His accounts were settled, at last! An hour later, a dark form crept through the gardens toward the gate where Harry Hardwicke had rode in to the rescue.

There was a silent struggle as two men wrestled in the darkness, and one fled away into the shadows of the night.

It was the chance meeting of a spy and a murderer.
And then Major Alan Hawke stooped and picked up a heavy dagger lying at his feet.