"Oh, John dear, this is very terrible!" she cried. "Why not go to Uncle Robert? He would help us, I am sure." "Yes, perhaps so. We will settle that afterwards. The first thing is to get to a place of safety." "Safety, John dear?" "Well, you don't want me to remain in prison?" he said. "Oh no, dear," she cried, clinging to him. "But, Dick--my father!" "What about them?" he said sharply. "What did they say to you?" "When? How?" he asked. "They came after you, dear," she said simply. "Oh yes; they are busy with the police, of course." She sat listening to the noise of the cab-wheels as it rattled along in the direction of the City. Nothing more was said till the vehicle drew up, when Huish leaped out and helped her to alight. He then handed the cabman a liberal fare and exclaimed: "Come along, or we shall miss the train." He hurried her into the station, along the platform, and into the waiting-room. "Sit down a minute," he exclaimed, and he went to the door to look out, but returned directly, looking so strange that Gertrude shrank from him involuntarily, and had to make an effort to master a curious feeling of repugnance which came over her. He drew her arm quickly through his, and, bidding her lower her veil, led her hastily out of the station, across the road and into a narrow lane. "Are we not going by train?" she asked. "No; it is too late. Just gone. Come along, and don't talk." She hurried along by his side, for he was walking very fast, and only noticed that they went through a perfect maze of narrow turnings, now up, now down, Huish stopping from time to time to look back to see if they were followed. He kept this up for nearly an hour, and Gertrude was getting hot and exhausted, when he turned sharply into a darker and narrower lane, glancing rapidly up and down the deserted place with its two or three lamps and dimly-lighted public-house. The next moment he had thrust her into a heavy doorway, there was a rattle of a latch-key, and Gertrude felt herself drawn into a dark passage, and the door was closed. "John!" she whispered, as the tremor which had before attacked her returned. "Safe at last!" he muttered, drawing his breath with a low hiss, and not heeding her. "Tired?" "Rather, dear," she panted. "But, John, what place is this?" "My sanctuary," he said, in a peculiar voice. "Give me your hand. Come along. I'll tell you when the stairs begin." He led her along the dark passage, and a strange chill of dread struck upon Gertrude. As they reached the first landing, a light suddenly shone out, and a few steps higher she gazed wonderingly at the weird figure of an old woman, with long, grey, unkempt hair, holding an ill-smelling paraffin lamp high above her head. There was an intent, curious, inquiring look in the old woman's eyes, as they seemed to fasten upon the new-comer, gradually growing vindictive, as they passed her without a word. "Who is that?" whispered Gertrude.