knew. With you it was somewhat different. Your
presence in the taxicab was only suspicious. There was always the
possibility that you might be one of those ubiquitous 'innocent
bystanders.' Your name, your position, the improbability that you could
have anything in common with--shall we say, the matter that so deeply
interests us?--was all in your favour. However, presumption and
probability are the tools of fools. We do not depend upon them--we apply
the test. And having applied the test, we are convinced that you have
told the truth--that is all."

He rose from his chair brusquely. "I shall not apologise to you for what
has happened. I doubt very much if you are in a frame of mind to accept
anything of the sort. I imagine, rather, that you are promising yourself
that we shall pay, and pay dearly, for this--that, among other things,
we shall answer for the murder of that man in the other room. All this
will be quite within your province, Mr. Dale--and quite fruitless.
To-morrow morning the story that you are preparing to tell now would
sound incredible even in your own ears; furthermore, as we shall take
pains to see that you leave this place with as little knowledge of its
location as you obtained when you arrived, your story, even if believed,
would do little service to you and less harm to us. I think of nothing
more, Mr. Dale, except--" There was a whimsical smile on the lips now.
"Ah, yes, the matter of your clothes. We can, and shall be glad to make
reparation to you to the slight extent of offering you a new suit before
you go."

Jimmie Dale scowled. Sick, shaken, and weak as he was, the cool,
imperturbable impudence of the man was fast growing unbearable.

The man laughed. "I am sure you will not refuse, Mr. Dale--since we
insist. The condition of the clothes you have on at present might--I say
'might'--in a measure support your story with some degree of tangible
evidence. It is not at all likely, of course; but we prefer to discount
even so remote a possibility. When you have changed, you will be motored
back to your home. I bid you good-night, Mr. Dale."

Jimmie Dale rubbed his eyes. The man was gone--through a door at the
rear of the desk, a door that he had not noticed before, that was not
even in evidence now, that was simply a movable section of the wall
panelling--and for an instant Jimmie Dale experienced a sense of
sickening impotence. It was as though he stood defenceless, unarmed,
and utterly at