ted her to
alight. The house was in darkness, but as they reached the door it was
opened.

"Go in," said van Heerden, and pushed her ahead.

She found herself in an old-fashioned hall, the walls panelled of oak,
the floor made of closely mortised stone flags. She recognized the man
who had admitted them as one of those she had seen in her flat that same
night. He was a cadaverous man with high cheekbones and short, bristly
black hair and a tiny black moustache.

"I won't introduce you," said the doctor, "but you may call this man
Gregory. It is not his name, but it is good enough."

The man smiled furtively and eyed her furtively, took up the candle and
led the way to a room which opened off the hall at the farther end.

"This is the dining-room," said van Heerden. "It is chiefly interesting
to you as the place where the ceremony will be performed. Your room is
immediately above. I am sorry I did not engage a maid for you, but I
cannot afford to observe the proprieties or consider your reputation.
The fact is, I know no woman I could trust to perform that duty, and
you will have to look after yourself."

He led the way upstairs, unlocked a door and passed in. There was one
window which was heavily curtained. He saw her glance and nodded.

"You will find the windows barred," he said. "This was evidently the
nursery and is admirably suited to my purpose. In addition, I might tell
you that the house is a very old one and that it is impossible to walk
about the room without the door creaking and, as I spend most of my time
in the dining-room below, you will find it extremely difficult even to
make preparations for escape without my being aware of the fact."

The room was comfortably furnished. A small fire was alight in the tiny
grate and a table had been laid, on which were displayed sandwiches, a
thermos flask and a small silver basket of confectionery.

There was a door by the big four-poster bed.

"You may consider yourself fortunate in having the only room in the
house with a bath-room attached," he said. "You English people are
rather particular about that kind of thing."

"And you German people aren't," she said coolly.

"German?" he laughed. "So you guessed that, did you?"

"Guessed it?"--it was her turn to laugh scornfully. "Isn't the fact
self-evident? Who but a Hun----"

His face went a dull red.

"That is a word you must not use to me," he said roughly--"hang your
arrogance! Huns! We, who gave