aple fixed in the wall
at one side of the room. Then he stood back and surveyed the scene with
a smile of satisfaction.

"You see, Mayer," he observed, grimly, "my purpose. The wife sees the
husband's suffering. If he refuses to speak, she will speak. One or the
other will tell us what we want to know, of that you may be sure. Let us
leave them to talk matters over." He and his man at once left the room,
and in a few moments Grace heard their footsteps upon the floor of the
laboratory above.

"Richard," she cried, softly, "are you suffering very much?"

"Never mind, dear," he said, trying vainly to turn his head so that he
might see her. "What has happened--why have they brought you here?"

She told him her story, brokenly, with many sobs. "I could not help it,
Richard," she moaned. "I did my best. I could not help their finding out
everything."

"I know it, dear. You have done all you could. Is there any news from
outside?"

"None. They told me to play the phonograph to send you a message. Did
you hear it?"

"Yes, I heard, and understood."

"Understood? Then you know something--you have some hope?"

"I do not know. It may be, although I cannot see what to do now. I dare
not tell you more than that--these scoundrels are undoubtedly listening
in the room above."

"Richard, what is that light? What is it they mean to do to you? Dr.
Hartmann showed me his hand--it was all scarred and burned. He said it
came from that." She looked toward the glowing cone of light with bitter
anger.

"I do not know--exactly. I am not sure. The agony of the thing is very
great--it burns into my eyes--into my brain. Hartmann says it will
produce insanity. I do not know whether this is true or not. I begin to
feel that perhaps it may be--not that the light itself can produce it,
but that inability to sleep, pain, nervous exhaustion, the constant
glare and brilliance before my eyes--those things might cause a man to
go insane, if they were kept up long enough."

"But--he--he will not dare to do that."

Duvall groaned, striving in vain to turn his head to one side. "He
intends to keep me here, until I tell him where he can find the snuff
box," he gasped.

"Richard!" Grace fairly screamed out his name. "Then you must tell--you
_must_! You cannot let yourself go mad--not even for Monsieur Lefevre."

"I shall not tell--no matter what comes," he replied.

"Then _I_ will. I refuse to let you suffer like this. I can't do it, I
won