from long
confinement.

As Mortimer staggered back, the uninvited guest recoiled in his
turn. He was staring fixedly across the room at his double who
met his gaze firmly, erect, tense, silent. The others looked in
sheer stupefaction from one to the other of the two Mr.
Bellwards. For nearly a minute the only sound in the room was the
deep ticking of the clock, counting away the seconds separating
him from eternity, Desmond thought.

It was Mrs. Malplaquet who broke the silence. Suddenly her nerves
snapped under the strain, and she screamed aloud.

"A--ah!" she cried, "look! There are two of them! No, no, it
can't be!"

And she sank half fainting on the sofa.

Behrend whipped out a pistol from his hip pocket and thrust it in
Mortimer's face.

"Is this another of your infernal surprise packets?" he demanded
fiercely.

All the spies seemed on a sudden to be armed, Desmond noted, all,
that is, save Mrs. Malplaquet who lay cowering on the settee.
Mortimer had pulled out his super-Mauser; No. 13, who was
guarding the door, had a revolver in his hand, and Behrend, as
has been stated, was threatening Mortimer with his Browning.

Now Max advanced threateningly into the room, a long seaman's
knife in his hand..

"Put that blarsted shooting-iron awiy!" he snarled at Mortimer,
"and tell us wot's the little gime, will yer! Come on, egpline!"

With absolute self-possession Mortimer turned from the stranger
to Desmond.

"I think it is up to the twins to explain," he said almost
nonchalantly, "suppose we hear what this gentleman, who arrived
so surprisingly through the book-shelves, has to say?"

Though threatened with danger from two sides, from the gang and
possibly, as far as he knew, from the stranger, Mortimer was
perfectly calm. Desmond never admired Maurice Strangwise more
than in that moment. All eyes now turned questioningly towards
the new arrival. As for Desmond he drew back as far as he dared
into the shadow. He knew he was in the direst peril; but he was
not afraid for himself. He was crushed to the ground by the
sickening feeling that he was going to be beaten, that the gang
were going to slip through his fingers after all... and he was
powerless to prevent it.

He guessed at once what had happened. Bellward must have escaped
from custody; for there was no disguise about this pale,
flustered creature who had the cowed look of a hunted man in his
eyes. He must have come to the Mill House to get his mo