"You don't know what I would do or what I would not do," said Enistor coolly, "as you know little of my character. But you are in my power to hang, and hanged you shall be unless you surrender the money. I don't think," ended the man with a sneer, "that your dear friend Eberstein can aid you in this dilemma. What do you think yourself?" "I think nothing about it," rejoined Montrose decisively. "I have wired to Dr. Eberstein to come over, but----" "But he has not yet put in an appearance," interrupted the Squire, with a harsh laugh. "And he never will." "I disagree. When he knows of my peril he will come." "He knows of your peril without your telling him, if he is the wonderful man you have made him out to be. However, this is an unprofitable discussion. The question is, will you give me the money to save your neck?" "No!" said Montrose obstinately. "I shall give you until six o'clock to decide," replied the Squire calmly. "And then, if you still refuse, I shall inform the Inspector about your visit to Narvaez last night. That will mean your immediate arrest and subsequent punishment." "It will mean the first undoubtedly, but I may escape the second. I trust in God to prove my innocence." "The age of miracles is past," said Enistor with a shrug, and left the library to again interview the Inspector. Montrose remained where he was wondering why Eberstein did not either come over to help him, or at least reply to his wire. Enistor's taunt was surely true, for the young man had sufficient knowledge of Eberstein's wonderful powers to be certain he was aware of all that had taken place. With his ability to procure super-physical knowledge, he probably knew who had murdered Narvaez, so he would surely come to the rescue. But an hour passed and the shadows began to deepen without any information. Montrose began to feel his spirits sink, and again tried to invoke the helpful power which had aided him before, but without success. He felt desperately angry against the Squire for behaving so wickedly, and resented the hate directed against him. "Hate only ceases by love," as Eberstein had said, but how could he love, or even tolerate, a man who was bent upon encompassing his destruction. Montrose asked himself this question several times without getting any reply, and was well nigh in despair, when an interruption came. This was none other than the unexpected appearance of Alice. "Oh, my dear, my dear," she cried, hastening across the shadowy room to throw herself into his longing arms. "I have been broken-hearted over you, but I could not get out to see you. Father came some time ago and said that I could try to persuade you to give up the money." "And what do you say?" Montrose asked her softly. "Give it up: give it up. What does this miserable money matter?" "I care nothing for the money as you well know. But Eberstein told me to keep it, and I obey him in this as I obey him in all things."