"The jewels," he said bluntly. "You might have guessed that."

"I did...."

"And have saved yourself and me considerable trouble by speaking ten minutes ago."

"Yes," she agreed abstractedly.

"Now," he continued with a hint of anger in his voice, "you are going to tell."

She shook her head slightly.

"Oh, but you are, my lady." And his tone rasped, quickened with the latent brutality of the natural criminal. "And I know that you'll not force me to extreme measures. It wouldn't be pleasant for you, you know; and I promise you I shall stop at nothing whatever to make you speak."

No answer; in absolute indifference, she felt, lay her strongest weapon. She must keep calm and self-possessed, refusing to be terrified into a quick and thoughtless answer. "This afternoon," he said harshly, "you stole from me the Maitland jewels. Where are they?"

"I shall not tell."

He bent swiftly forward and took one of her hands in his. Instinctively she clenched it; and he wrapped his strong hard fingers around the small white fist, then deliberately inserted a hard finger joint between her second and third knuckles, slowly increasing the pressure.

And watched with absolute indifference the lines of agony grave themselves upon her smooth unwrinkled forehead, and the color leave her cheeks, as the pain grew too exquisite. Then, suddenly discontinuing the pressure, but retaining her hand, he laughed shortly.

"Will you speak, my lady, or will you have more?"

"Don't," she gasped, "please...!"

"Where are the jewels? Will you?"

"No."

"Have you given them to Maitland?"

"No."

"Where are they?"

"I don't know."

"Stop that nonsense unless.... Where did you leave them?"

"I won't tell--I won't.... Ah, please, _please!_"

"Tell me!"

"Never.... Ah-h!..."

An abrupt and resounding hammering at the outer door forced him to leave off. He dropped her hand with an oath and springing to his feet drew his revolver; then, with a glance at the girl, who was silently weeping, tears of pain rolling down her cheeks, mouth set in a thin pale line of determination, strode out and shut the door after him.

As it closed the girl leaped to her feet, maddened with torture, wild eyes casting about the room for a weapon of some sort, of offense or defense; for she could not have endured the torture an instant longer.

If forced to it, to fight, fight she would. If only she had something, a stick of wood, to defend herself with.... But there was nothing, nothing at all.

The room was a typical office, well but severely furnished. The rug that covered the tile floor was of rich quality and rare design. The neutral-tinted walls were bare, but for a couple of steel engravings in heavy wooden frames. There were three heavily upholstered leather arm-chairs and one revolving desk-chair; a roll-top desk, against the partition wall, a waste-paper basket, and a flat-topped desk, or table.

And that was all.

Or not quite all, else the office equipment had not been complete.

There was the telephone!

But he would hear! Or was the partition sound-proof?

As if in contradiction of the suggestion, there came to her ears very clearly the sound of the hall door creaking on its hinges, and then a man's voice, shrill with anger and anxiety.

"You fool! Do you want to ruin us both? What do you mean----"

The door crashed to, interrupting the protest and drowning Anisty's reply.

"I was passing," the new voice took up its plaintive remonstrance, "and the watchman called me in and said that you were telephoning for me----"

"Damn the interfering fool!" interrupted Anisty.

"But what's this insanity, Anisty? What's this about a woman? What----"

The new-comer's tones ascended a high scale of fright and rage.

"Lower your voice, you ass!" the burglar responded sternly. "And----"

He took his own advice; and for a little time the conference was conducted in guarded tones that did not penetrate the dividing wall save as a deep rumbling alternating with an impassioned squeak.

But long ere this had come to pass the girl was risking all at the telephone. Receiver to ear she was imploring Central to connect her with Ninety-eighty-nine Madison. If only she might get Maitland, tell him where the jewels were hidden, warn him to remove them--then she could escape further suffering by open confession..

"What number?" came Central's languid query, after a space. "Did you say Nine-ought-nine-eight?"

"No, no, Central. Nine-o-eight-nine Madison, please, and hurry------hurry!"

"Ah, I'm ringin' 'em. They ain't answered yet. Gimme time.... There they are. Go ahead."

"Hello, hello!"

"Pwhat is ut?"

Her heart sank: O'Hagan's voice meant that Maitland was out.

"O'Hagan--is that you?... Tell Mr. Maitland------"

"He's gawn out for the noight an'------"

"Tell him, please------"

"But he's out. Ring up in the marnin'."

"But can't you take this message for him? Please...."

The door was suddenly jerked open and Anisty leaped into the room, face white with passion. Terrified, the girl sprang from the desk, carrying the instrument with her, placing the revolving chair between her and her enemy.