Anstruther turned on his portable electric light, and took his bearings.

He was in an ordinary scientific laboratory, surrounded by induction coils, Crookes' tubes, balances, prismatic and optical instruments, and other and more complicated apparatus, the use of which he could not guess.

He walked slowly round, observing every corner. Where was the radium? He had read up the subject, and had learnt of its power to penetrate almost any substance, and now he turned off his light, hoping to see its rays.

There was nothing but absolute darkness.

He resolved to explore further. He opened the door gently. In front of him was the pa.s.sage leading to the house. At his left another door--wide open.

He stopped before it in mute surprise and admiration.

On a table in the middle of the room was a luminous ma.s.s. The wall behind was aglow with a dancing, scintillating light. The rest of the room was in darkness, save for the dim light cast by the glowing ma.s.s and the phosph.o.r.escent screen behind.

It was the radium! How could the Professor leave it in so exposed a place? No doubt it was there that it had been exhibited to the scientists--but 56,000 worth left on a table for anyone to handle! It was absurd. Only a professor would have done it.

But it wasn't for him to grumble at the peculiar methods of learned men, and with a cheerful heart Anstruther stepped lightly into the room.

As he did so the door closed behind him with a click. The Major paused.

"That's queer," he thought. "I didn't feel a draught, and I didn't touch the door."

Luckily the laboratory was isolated from the rest of the house, so the slight noise would not have been heard. He waited for some minutes to rea.s.sure himself; then he stepped back to the door and gently turned the k.n.o.b, without result. He pushed; pulled and pushed; lifted and pushed; pressed down and pushed; tried in every way he could think of, but the door would not open.

He examined it carefully. Save for its k.n.o.b its surface was absolutely plain. There was no keyhole or latch.

"Trapped, by Jove!" Anstruther exclaimed under his breath; and as his unpleasant situation dawned upon him he felt more uncomfortable than he had ever done in his life before. In fact, he felt physically ill.

"Confound it!" he thought. "It's deuced annoying, but it isn't as bad as all that. I don't know why it should bowl me over. Perhaps there's another way out of this den."

He walked round the room, feeling the wall for some shutter, even searching the floor for a trap-door. There was none. Save for a telephone and the table, he encountered nothing but plain surface.

"Of all the infernal holes to be in," he muttered. "Trapped like this, and all through my own carelessness." And then it occurred to him that he, Everett Anstruther, late a major of his Majesty's Horse Guards Blue, and now member of Parliament for Helston, would in a few hours be haled away to prison on a charge of attempted burglary. A pleasant situation, truly!

He felt ill--worse than before. His head ached, and his temples throbbed. What on earth did it mean? He had been in tight places before--once in Italy, when his life wasn't worth a moment's purchase, and then he was absolutely cool. But now----

[Ill.u.s.tration: "'YOU ARE A THIEF.'"

(_p. 93._)]

He started as if a pistol had been fired. A bell had rung behind him--an electric bell. It was the telephone bell, and it was still ringing. He watched it in dismay. It would rouse the whole house. Lift down the receiver, of course. He did so. The bell stopped. He put the receiver to his ear.

"Are you there?" a voice asked.

He did not reply. There was no need. While the receiver was off the bell wouldn't ring.

"If you don't answer I shall wake the house," came the voice, as if in answer to his thoughts.

The Major groaned inwardly. "Yes, I'm here," he replied.

"Good. How do you feel?"

"Oh, pretty tollollish," he answered. "Must be the doctor," he thought.

"What is your name?"

"Smithers," said the Major, with a sudden inspiration. "John Smithers."

"John Smithers," came the slow response. "Thank you. Your age last birthday?"

"It seems to me he has been examining Blyth's factotum for life insurance," thought the Major. "Lucky I caught on so well. But what an extraordinary idea to collect these statistics at something after midnight."

"Age last birthday, please," came down the wire again.

"Thirty-five," replied the Major. "Nothing like the truth in an emergency," he added to himself.

"John Smithers, aged thirty-five," was repeated. "Late occupation?"

"Soldier."

"Good. Very good. Late occupation, soldier. Any pension?"

"Yes."

"What a fool you are to risk it for a bit of radium."

The Major stepped back in sheer amazement. "What did you say?" he asked.

"Whatever made you risk your pension for a bit of radium?"

"Don't know what you mean."

"Then I'll explain. You are a thief, locked up in Professor Blyth's dark room. Isn't that so?"

"Who are you?" asked the Major in dismay.

"Professor Blyth."

"The devil!" Anstruther e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed.

"No, sir--Professor Blyth," came the response.

"Where are you?" asked the Major.

"I am in the room at the end of the corridor. I can observe the door of your room from where I stand, and I have a loaded revolver in my hand."

"What are you going to do?"

"That depends upon you. I can either send for the police, and give you in charge, or I can take scientific observations with your a.s.sistance--whichever you prefer."

"What do you mean by scientific observations?"