Roger! As the thought struck her she almost leapt to her feet in consternation. He was in danger now; he had no suspicion to protect him. Unless he held firm against that anti-toxin he was already doomed. How could she tell if they had already overcome his prejudice?

Perhaps he had by now had the injections, one, two even. If he had, nothing could save him, she knew that. Her heart grew cold with fear.

Still, there was a loophole of hope. He had distinctly a.s.sured her he had made up his mind against the anti-toxin. If only he could be depended upon to remain obstinate! The danger was that he might at any moment yield to the persuasions of his aunt. He hated to distress her needlessly. After all, his resistance was only a caprice; it could not be depended on as a safeguard. It came to her with dreadful certainty that there was no one who could warn him but herself--and she was a prisoner, several miles away. For the moment her own possible fate scarcely concerned her at all. It was the thought of Roger's position which drove her nearly frantic, impelled her to rise with tottering, cautious steps and investigate her prison.

She crept, trembling, to the door and tried the handle. It was locked, of course; she had known it would be. She clung to the k.n.o.b and looked around. The room, built for a studio, had no window, only a sloping skylight, which was firmly fastened. The atmosphere was close, that of a room long shut up, flavoured with tobacco-smoke and the clean, pungent odour of carbolic. Dust lay on the furniture, but here and there it was disturbed in streaks, showing that someone had been there recently. She wondered if she was all alone in the house. She remembered that Jacques was away on holiday. Yet it scarcely seemed likely that Sartorius would care to risk leaving her completely unguarded. Again she listened, leaning against the door, conscious of extreme weakness and trying hard to keep her teeth from chattering. No sound whatever came from the rooms below; the silence somewhat rea.s.sured her. She resolved at once to see if there was any possible way of escaping. Yet as she left the door and took a cautious step towards the centre of the room, perspiration broke out all over her body and ran in streams down her back, her limbs, her face. She felt her knees give under her. Whether all this was due to pure weakness or in part to fright she could not tell, but it occurred to her as possible that she had been here several days without food and repeatedly drugged. How she came to be conscious now caused her a fleeting wonder.

If only there were a telephone in the room--but the one instrument was on the ground-floor. There seemed no possible means of communication with the outside world. She could scream, of course, but that would only serve to alarm anyone who happened to be in the house, or even if the house was empty she could scarcely hope that her voice would be heard far below in the street. The one chance that suggested itself to her was the skylight. It seemed just faintly possible that she might be able to get through it and somehow down to the ground. It presented decided elements of danger, undoubtedly, but there was no choice. She knew too well what it would mean if she stayed here. No, it was the skylight or nothing; she must think how the attempt could be managed.

Clutching on to the back of a chair for support, she eyed the sloping gla.s.s above her and made certain rough calculations. If she mounted upon a chair placed on the table she might fairly easily unfasten the big central group of panes, which was the part that opened outward.

She even thought she could contrive to climb up to the opening and get outside, but after that came the rub. She would have to slide off the side of the roof and drop to the ground, and common sense told here there was not a chance of her reaching the ground without a broken leg or arm, even if she was not killed outright. The distance was too great; there was nothing to break her fall. There was no use whatever in getting outside the house if she was going to be too disabled to go farther. She must try to find something she could turn into a sort of rope to cling to. Her eyes sought rapidly about and fell upon the long red curtains. The stuff seemed thick and strong; she could perhaps tear them up into strips, knot the lengths together and so make something that would serve for part of the distance, at any rate. If it didn't reach to the ground, she must chance it. She would have to be quick about it, too, for something warned her she was not likely to be left very long alone. Indeed, she was sure within her that the doctor had meant for her to remain unconscious, never wake up again.

The idea filled her with a sickening horror, so that she had to set her teeth hard together to stop their chattering.

Standing upon the chair she began with shaking fingers and as hurriedly as she could to undo the rusted curtain-hooks from their big wooden rings. She had managed only the first one when a sound from the street below made her stop and listen, petrified. A car had stopped. She waited, breathless, and an instant later heard the loud bang of the street door. Like a flash she was down again on the floor, and in one panic-stricken movement had slithered back on the camp-bed and drawn up the army blanket over her, as it had been when she came to. As far as she could remember it she arranged herself in her former position, half turned towards the wall on her right side. Thank Heaven it was darker now. She recalled with grat.i.tude the fact that there was no electric fixture in the alcove. If anyone came, she must do her utmost to appear unconscious, and trust to the sheltering gloom to aid her in the deception.

She waited and waited. Long minutes went by; it might have been half an hour, but it was probably not nearly so long. Her body began to be so cramped she felt she must move or die; moreover, it was some time before her heart ceased beating so violently as to lift the blanket.

At last when she thought she could bear no more the footsteps of two persons mounted the steps to the laboratory. The key grated in the lock of the door. With an inward desperate prayer she closed her eyes and relaxed the muscles of her face, just as the door swung open and the light flashed in her face from the larger part of the room. It was only a dim light in here, though. She knew that the lamp, a high-powered one with a green shade, shed its rays straight down on the work-table.

Heavy steps at once crossed the floor and paused beside her. She heard the doctor's breathing as he bent over her, she smelled the tobacco odour of his clothing, and felt her cheek burn as though seared beneath his scrutiny. Presently he spoke, in her ear, it seemed.

"I suppose you gave her the injection at the time I told you to?"

"Oh, G.o.d, yes; I gave it to her all right!"

Esther experienced a sharp shock. The second voice was that of Captain Holliday. How on earth did he come into this? Or had he been in it from the first? Somehow from his tone of frightened tension she thought he had not, yet she could not imagine what he was doing here now. Instinctively she knew that the doctor was still studying her closely, and she felt that if he kept it up much longer she would give herself away. Already she feared that in some way she had betrayed her astonishment of a moment ago. Had he noticed anything? She was ignorant of how to simulate a drugged sleep; she might be doing it all wrong.

Suddenly, without the least warning, she felt a cruel pinch on her shoulder. The doctor, to satisfy himself, had resorted to this crude but effectual method of finding out if she was quite unconscious or not. At least it might easily have proved effectual, only Providence intervened. She never knew how it was she did not shriek aloud, but instead managed to remain perfectly quiescent, unresisting. A second later she had her reward. She heard the huge man move away, his step creaking across the bare boards out into the main room. She breathed again, and listened.

For about two minutes there was silence, then Holliday spoke, bursting out with a sort of defiance that had terror in it, she thought.

"See here, Sartorius, I'm going to clear out. I've had enough. I didn't know what I was letting myself in for the other day, or I wouldn't have helped you out."

"_You'll stay here._"

This bald statement, uttered with peculiar emphasis, caused a shudder to run through Esther. There was something ominous in it, crushing.

The young man may have thought so too, to judge by the nervous, uncertain fashion in which he strove to combat the command.

"The h.e.l.l I shall! Who'll keep me if I want to go?"

There was no response, and after a second Holliday continued argumentatively:

"You know I've had nothing to do with this business--nothing! It's true I told Therese, long ago, the things that people said about you in Algeria. I never knew if they were true or not; I didn't want to know.

It was nothing to me how you got money to live on. You saved my life, that was enough for me. Good G.o.d, the past few days must prove I'm not ungrateful! Still, there's a limit to everything, and this thing's too d.a.m.ned risky for me; I don't want anything to do with it."

"Listen to me."

The doctor's voice was level, his words dropping like a heavy weight across the young man's nervous protest.

"Well, I'm listening."

"You appear to have got the idea that you are sacrificing yourself for me. That is not quite true. By doing as I tell you and remaining here you are saving yourself."

"How do you make that out?"

"It is perfectly simple. You realise of course that that woman in there is the only person who has the knowledge necessary to bring a charge; no one else has even a slight suspicion. Therefore it is hardly worth while to emphasise the reasons for keeping watch over her closely until such time as I am able to dispose of her satisfactorily.

These things take time and thought. One can't rush into them without running risks."

A shiver shook Esther from head to foot. She knew now, if she had had any doubts before, what was going to happen to her. The cold-blooded statement had an effect on Holliday also, for his voice sounded high-pitched and oddly rough as he replied:

"I suppose one has to admit all that, but why in h.e.l.l's name have I got to be her jailor? If she's unconscious, why can't she be left alone?"

"Simply because I refuse to take the risk. There is no knowing what might happen; one can't be sure of anything."

There followed the scratch of a match and the smell of cigarette smoke; then, as if reading his friend's thoughts, Sartorius continued:

"And in case you have any secret intention of giving me the slip, just bear this in mind: If the detention of this girl ever comes out, the fat will be in the fire, for you just as much as for me. Dead or alive, it will make little difference; you are bound to be implicated.

How good a chance do you think you'd have of proving your innocence?

You'd be held as an accessory both before and after the act, if you were lucky enough to escape a more serious charge. You are in it now; it's to your own interest to help me by staying in it."

"Good G.o.d!" groaned the young man, as though caught in a trap.

"I thought you'd see my point. You know me. You I never exaggerate."

"But is it essential to get rid of the girl entirely?" Holliday asked in a jerky fashion. "Isn't there any other means of keeping her quiet?"

"Oh, yes, but nothing that can really be depended on. I could, of course, by means of a simple operation, destroy certain areas in the brain which would deprive her of memory and speech, but these faculties sometimes have a tiresome tendency to restore themselves or to delegate their functions to other areas. No, there is only one safe plan, and even that wants thinking out. There must be no trace left."

"G.o.d!" exploded Holliday weakly, yet with a kind of loathing. "Why don't I go straight to the police and give the whole show away? I've half a mind to."

"Oh, no, I think you won't do that. There is too good a reason for not giving the show away, as you call it."

"What reason do you mean?"

"If you did go to the police you would deprive yourself of a large fortune. By sitting tight and saying nothing you will quite soon be able to marry Lady Clifford. In the circ.u.mstances, you will hardly persist in attaching a purely fict.i.tious value to two insignificant lives."

"Two!" gasped the younger man in a whisper. "Then you really mean to go on with Clifford?"

"I have no choice in the matter; it has become imperative to remove him. Since his father appointed him trustee of the estate, Lady Clifford is powerless to draw any large sums of money without his knowledge and consent. Consequently she would not be able to remunerate me for my services to her with regard to her husband."

"You mean it would rouse his suspicions if she kept paying out money to you?"

"Exactly. Of course to take on another case was more than I bargained for, but the thing was practically forced on me. It was Lady Clifford herself who began it without consulting me. She had kept back some of the typhoid culture, having sworn to me that she had thrown it all away. She started putting it into his bottled mineral water--she would keep the water a day or two in her own dressing-room, then carry it into his room and exchange it for the bottle that was there already. A fool's game--at any moment she might have been caught at it. However, there you are, she took the risk, then came to me and told me what she had done and why."

"I see. Then you only have to leave Clifford alone and let the disease take its course, I suppose?"

"Not at all. Typhoid artificially given seldom is severe enough to kill, particularly in the case of a young and vigorous subject. No, we should have to find some excuse for administering the pure toxin. It would do the trick at once, and without the least fear of detection.

However, that is my difficulty; the man refuses utterly to submit to any sort of injection. Idiotic prejudices!"

Esther's heart gave a leap. Roger was still safe; he had not given in.

She was so relieved that for the moment she almost forgot her own situation. The doctor continued thoughtfully: