eed?" said Amaryllis.

"Here--I am mistress!"

"Oh!" said Amaryllis.

"And you are prisoner--I tell you."

"Yes?" said Amaryllis. "I'm afraid you've let yourself be dragged into a
very wicked crime for which you will be severely punished."

"Punish! To punish _me_! Drag in! But me? Me? Me? I am not dragged. I
lead."

"Really?" said Amaryllis.

"The head is mine. I plan. And, because you will never leave this place
I do not mind to tell you that it is I have done it. All this. We have
the New Drug. I hold the man that shall make it and sell it. I am the
leader. I get the key. I catch you by the throat, there in The Manor
House, my pretty, red-haired mistress! I catch you while my Melchard,
who is clever, prick your arm with the needle. I--I--I!"

"Oh, yes," said Amaryllis. "But I do not think you are wise to tell all
this to me."

"Because you tell again? Oh, no, ma'am! I squeeze harder next time--and
there are other things. This is good old establish firm, no risk taken."

And Dutch Fridji came slowly towards Amaryllis.

"You make love with my Alban," she said, "an' I stop it." Lifting her
skirt, she fetched from a sheath in her stocking a sharp-pointed knife.
"I have enough of you. Two months I must say 'ma'am'! And now, it is
Alban!"

"You mean to kill me?" asked Amaryllis.

Dutch Fridji was like the nightmare vision of a Fury.

For a moment Amaryllis was paralyzed. But Fridji liked the clatter of
her own tongue.

"It is that I mean," she said. "To kill you very slow. Your beautiful
frock, it burn now. Soon your shoes, your stockings, your long
petticoat, the corset shall burn, till there shall not be a shred they
can say was yours. And then the body shall be burned--but first carve
and chopped like meat at table."

Amaryllis gasped and shuddered, giving fuel to the blaze, so that it
crackled once more into fierce indiscretion.

"I tell you things. Oh, yes, I tell. For the last one that died--it was
a pity. He did not know before--knew not ever what was coming to him and
to each part of him. That spoil the flavour of my dish, do you see?"

A flourish of the knife put expressive finish to the words.

Amaryllis backed into the corner between bed and door, speaking any word
that came. On equal terms she would have fought for life like a cat, but
the knife----

"Mr. Melchard doesn't want me to be killed," she said.

For a moment Fridji's rage choked her.

"I'll scream, and he'll come with his