and the girl
looked at each other in the tawdry, frowsy, lamp-lit room. Miss Spencer
nervously patted her yellow hair into shape, as if gradually recovering
her composure and equanimity. The whole affair seemed like a dream to
Nella, a disturbing, sinister nightmare. She was a little uncertain
what to say. She felt that she had not yet got hold of any very definite
information. 'Where is Prince Eugen now?' she asked at length.

'I don't know, miss.'

'He isn't in this house?'

'No, miss.'

'Ah! We will see presently.'

'They took him away, Miss Racksole.'

'Who took him away? Some of your husband's friends?'

'Some of his--acquaintances.'

'Then there is a gang of you?'

'A gang of us--a gang! I don't know what you mean,' Miss Spencer
quavered.

'Oh, but you must know,' smiled Nella calmly. 'You can't possibly be
so innocent as all that, Mrs Tom Jackson. You can't play games with
me. You've just got to remember that I'm what you call a Yankee girl.
There's one thing that I mean to find out, within the next five minutes,
and that is--how your charming husband kidnapped Prince Eugen, and why
he kidnapped him. Let us begin with the second question. You have evaded
it once.'

Miss Spencer looked into Nella's face, and then her eyes dropped, and
her fingers worked nervously with the tablecloth.

'How can I tell you,' she said, 'when I don't know? You've got the
whip-hand of me, and you're tormenting me for your own pleasure.' She
wore an expression of persecuted innocence.

'Did Mr Tom Jackson want to get some money out of Prince Eugen?'

'Money! Not he! Tom's never short of money.'

'But I mean a lot of money--tens of thousands, hundreds of thousands?'

'Tom never wanted money from anyone,' said Miss Spencer doggedly.

'Then had he some reason for wishing to prevent Prince Eugen from coming
to London?'

'Perhaps he had. I don't know. If you kill me, I don't know.' Nella
stopped to reflect. Then she raised the revolver. It was a mechanical,
unintentional sort of action, and certainly she had no intention of
using the weapon, but, strange to say, Miss Spencer again cowered before
it. Even at that moment Nella wondered that a woman like Miss Spencer
could be so simple as to think the revolver would actually be used.
Having absolutely no physical cowardice herself, Nella had the greatest
difficulty in imagining that other people could be at the mercy of a
bodily fear. Still, she saw her advantage, and us