-and in stepped four men--two of them the
policemen we let in last night, and two men I never saw before--and
they asked if they might speak to my brother who was visiting me. And
I--I promised to call him down. Oh, ma'--Angelica--"

"Mr. Pyecroft, what does this mean?" cried Mrs. De Peyster.

Mr. Pyecroft's usual perfect composure was gone. His face was
gleamingly alert; sharp as a razor's edge.

"God knows how they've done it," he snapped out. "But it means they've
tracked me here!"

"As--as Thomas Preston?"

"As Thomas Preston."

"And if they take you--they--they may find me, and--"

"Nothing more likely," grimly responded Mr. Pyecroft.

"Then escape!" Mrs. De Peyster cried with frantic energy. "Run! For
heaven's sake, run! You still have time!"

"Running from the police is the surest way to get caught when they've
got you trapped," he answered in quick, staccato tones. "They've
got every door watched--sure. Anyhow--Listen! Hear those steps? They
haven't trusted you, Matilda; they've followed. Angelica, down with
your face to the wall, and be sick! And while you're at it, be damned
sick!"

Mrs. De Peyster obeyed. Mr. Pyecroft drew the room's one chair up
beside the bed, sat down, picked up "Wormwood," and again, with the
most natural manner in the world, he began to read in a loud voice.
The next moment the two policemen of the previous night came in.

Mr. Pyecroft arose.

"I must beg your pardon, officers," he said pleasantly and with a
slight tincture of his clerical manner. "My sister Matilda just
told me you wished to see me, but I was almost at the end of a very
interesting chapter which I was reading aloud to my other sister,
who is ill, and so I thought I would conclude the scene before I came
down. In what way can I serve you?"

Neither of the officers replied. One closed the doorway with his bulk,
and the other thumped heavily down a flight or two of stairs, from
whence his shout ascended:--

"We've got him up here, Lieutenant! Come on up!"

Within the tiny room of the second maid no one spoke. Presently heavy
footfalls mounted; the second policeman entered, and presently two
solid men in civilian dress pushed through the door. The foremost, a
dark-visaged man with heavy jaw, and a black derby which he did not
remove, fixed on Mr. Pyecroft a triumphant, domineering gaze.

"Well, Preston," he said, "so we've landed you at last."

Mr. Pyecroft, his left forefinger still keeping the place