his nature--some
fourth dimensional endurance over which he appeared to have the most
astounding control--checked the impulse. Often he wondered at himself
and questioned how he contrived to face the pressure put upon him, but
the only motive he could trace beyond the stalwart desire of every
decent man to take his gruel without squealing was an ambition to be
able to meet Auriole Craven's eyes squarely when she came to see him
and say "I'm afraid your friends haven't got my strength just yet."
She would shake her head at that and reply cynically--"It's only a
matter of time, Anthony." But at the back of her eyes was a light that
seemed to read "Well done you."

He was in a sad enough plight on the morning of the seventeenth day
when the door opened and Van Diest followed by Laurence entered the
room.

Van Diest was chanting a German hymn, a habit greatly affected by him
in moments of perplexity. With thumbs tucked in his waistcoat and
fingers drumming upon the resonant rotundity of his waist line he
marched slowly up and down moaning the guttural words in a melancholy
and tuneless voice. Richard had learned to hate that song as cordially
as its performer.

"Take it down another street," he implored.

Van Diest stopped singing long enough to shake his head and Laurence
who had seated himself with crossed legs on one of the hard upright
chairs said "Barraclough" with a note of pseudo-friendly warning.

"Why not have a shot at 'Avalon,'" Richard suggested sleepily. "Suit
you, that would, and make a nice change for me." His throat was
burning and talking was painful.

"Hm! A change," said Van Diest. "I wass thinking you would want a
change very soon. It is tired you look this morning."

"That's queer, for I had a splendid night." Richard's hollow, dark
rimmed eyes gave a lie to his words.

"Hm! Laurence, they use the siren--yes?"

Laurence nodded.

"Had it going every ten minutes. Didn't give him much of a chance last
night."

"So! But to these young boys sleep comes very easily--I think--think
it wass a goot idea to take away his bed--yes."

Richard rolled his eyes threateningly toward the speaker and checked a
sudden torrent of abuse that sprang to his lips.

"It iss bad for these boys to have too much comforts--s'very bad; with
the sleep fogged brain a man loses so much the intelligence. You will
arrange--yes?"

"Of course I will if he insists," said Laurence.

"Oh, you swine," said R