ak down a bit and lose my temper and talk to
myself. But I have some sense of honour for all that."

"Some sense of honour?" repeated Rupert, and the last light of
intelligence died out of his face, leaving it the face of an idiot with
rolling eyes.

He moved vaguely towards the door and I followed. But I turned yet once
more in the toils of my conscience and curiosity. "Can we do nothing for
you, madam?" I said forlornly.

"Why," said the lady, "if you are particularly anxious to do me a little
favour you might untie the gentlemen upstairs."

Rupert plunged heavily up the kitchen staircase, shaking it with his
vague violence. With mouth open to speak he stumbled to the door of the
sitting-room and scene of battle.

"Theoretically speaking, that is no doubt true," Mr Burrows was saying,
lying on his back and arguing easily with Basil; "but we must consider
the matter as it appears to our sense. The origin of morality..."

"Basil," cried Rupert, gasping, "she won't come out."

"Who won't come out?" asked Basil, a little cross at being interrupted
in an argument.

"The lady downstairs," replied Rupert. "The lady who was locked up. She
won't come out. And she says that all she wants is for us to let these
fellows loose."

"And a jolly sensible suggestion," cried Basil, and with a bound he was
on top of the prostrate Burrows once more and was unknotting his bonds
with hands and teeth.

"A brilliant idea. Swinburne, just undo Mr Greenwood."

In a dazed and automatic way I released the little gentleman in the
purple jacket, who did not seem to regard any of the proceedings as
particularly sensible or brilliant. The gigantic Burrows, on the other
hand, was heaving with herculean laughter.

"Well," said Basil, in his cheeriest way, "I think we must be getting
away. We've so much enjoyed our evening. Far too much regard for you to
stand on ceremony. If I may so express myself, we've made ourselves at
home. Good night. Thanks so much. Come along, Rupert."

"Basil," said Rupert desperately, "for God's sake come and see what you
can make of the woman downstairs. I can't get the discomfort out of my
mind. I admit that things look as if we had made a mistake. But these
gentlemen won't mind perhaps..."

"No, no," cried Burrows, with a sort of Rabelaisian uproariousness. "No,
no, look in the pantry, gentlemen. Examine the coal-hole. Make a tour of
the chimneys. There are corpses all over the house, I assure you."

Th