the detective.

"He's hidden it somewhere. He hasn't got it with him," Mayer exclaimed,
angrily.

"Take him to the small bedroom in the west wing," said the doctor.
"We'll get it out of him, before we're through. You can leave the
clothes in the laboratory." He cast his eye about the room to see that
nothing had been forgotten. Duvall trembled, thinking of the hat lying
unseen behind the packing case in the corner. Hartmann, however, did not
observe it. Without saying anything further he threw open the door, and
they all passed into the little hall.

From there, Duvall was led up the iron staircase to the floor above, and
found himself in a large room which he took to be the doctor's
laboratory. It was dimly lit by means of a reading-lamp. He had a
confused vision of a number of scientific appliances, bulking huge and
forbidding in the shadows, and then was conducted through a glass door
and along a corridor similar to the one through which he and the doctor
had so recently passed on the floor below. He judged, from the direction
they were taking, that it was directly above the lower passageway, and
led back to the main part of the house.

In this he soon found that he was correct. A door at the end of the
corridor gave entrance to the upper central hall of the main building.
He was led off to the right, catching a momentary glimpse of a woman
attendant sitting in a chair near the head of the stairs as he passed.
In a few moments Hartmann paused before a door, threw it open, and
turned on the lights. The detective saw before him a well-furnished
bedroom, with two large windows, and another door, which he later found
gave entrance to a bathroom. The dark shadows against the night light
without showed him at once that the windows were barred.

He turned to the two men. "You do not intend to release me then?" he
asked, angrily.

Hartmann laughed. "You will be quite comfortable here, my friend. I am
sure that a few days of complete rest will benefit your condition
greatly. I imagine your trouble is merely a temporary affliction--a loss
of memory, let us say, an inability to recall your name. We'll soon have
you all right again. You have only to inform me where you have placed
the snuff box which you stole from my messenger this morning, and I
shall know that a complete cure has been effected. If your friends are
alarmed about you, it will be quite sufficient to tell them that you are
in my care. Mr. Phelps, for inst