."

"Nevertheless, you may regard it as withheld, definitely and finally."

Silence fell, and Paul Harley knew himself to be once more alone.
Luncheon appeared upon the table whilst he was washing in the bathroom.
Remembering the change in the tone of the unseen speaker's voice, he
avoided touching anything.

From the divan, through half-closed eyes, he examined every inch of
the walls, seeking for the spy-hole through which he knew himself to be
watched. He detected it at last: a little grating, like a ventilator,
immediately above him where he sat. This communicated with some room
where a silent watcher was constantly on duty!

Paul Harley gave no sign that he had made this discovery. But already
his keen wits were at work upon a plan. He watched the bar of light
fading, fading, until, judging it to be dinner time, he retired
discreetly.

When he returned, he found dinner spread upon the table.

He wondered for what ordeal the neophyte was prepared in this singular
apartment. He wondered how such neophytes were chosen, and to what tests
they were submitted before being accepted as members of the bloodthirsty
order. He could not even surmise.

Evidently no neophyte had been accepted on the previous night, unless
there were other like chambers in the house. The occupants of the
shuttered cars must therefore have been more advanced members. He spent
the night in the little cell-like bedchamber, and his second day of
captivity began as the first had begun.

For his dinner he had eaten nothing but bread and fruit. For his
breakfast he ate an egg and drank water from the tap in the bathroom.
His plan was now nearing completion. Only one point remained doubtful.

At noon the voice again addressed him from behind the gilded screen:

"Mr. Paul Harley?"

"Yes?"

"Your last opportunity has come. For your own future or for that of the
world you seem to care little or nothing. Are you still determined to
oppose our wishes?"

"I am."

"You have yet an hour. Your final decision will be demanded of you at
the end of that time."

Faint sounds of withdrawal followed these words and Harley suddenly
discovered himself to be very cold. The note of danger had touched
him. For long it had been silent. Now it clamoured insistently. He knew
beyond all doubt that he was approaching a crisis in his life. At its
nature he could not even guess.

He began to pace the room nervously, listening for he knew not what. His
mind wa