It was a sharply-drawn hiss, ending in a triumphant “ah,” that came from the lips of Ugo when he was face to face with Philip Quentin. His glittering eyes plainly said that his suspicions were confirmed. The discovery of the fact, a week before, that the two Americans had not sailed for New York provided the foundation for a shrewd guess and he had not been wrong. “It is as I suspected,” he said, tersely. “I trust I am not too late to save Miss Garrison from outrage.” “One moment, please,” commanded Lord Bob. “You are here through sufferance, and you must, for the time being, imagine yourself a gentleman. If you care to talk over the situation with us while we wait for Lady Saxondale and Miss Garrison, I shall be only too glad to have you do so. Will you be seated, gentlemen?” “We are not here to be directed by you, Lord Saxondale. We have tracked this scoundrel to earth, and we are--” Ugo was saying hotly when his lordship turned on him sternly. “Mr. Quentin is my guest. Another remark of that character and I will throw you bodily from the room. This is my house, Prince Ravorelli.” Paying no heed to the malevolent glare in the Italian's eyes, Saxondale turned and bade a servant ask Miss Garrison to come down if it pleased her to do so. “I presume Brussels is very much excited over Miss Garrison's disappearance,” said he to the livid-faced prince. “Brussels is horrified, but she will rejoice tomorrow. Thank God, we have not toiled in vain.” “Sit down. May I inquire for the health of Mrs. Garrison?” The four newcomers, more or less ill at ease, sat down with Lord Bob, the two Americans standing. Quentin leaned against the big post at the foot of the steps, his face the picture of gloomy defiance. “I am not her physician, sir.” “Hoity-toity! She is quite well, then, I may reasonably infer. Can you tell me whether she is in Brussels?” “She will be in Luxemburg in the morning, if my message reaches her to-night. But we are not here for the purpose of bandying words with you, sir. This house must be searched, whether you like it or not. Captain, call in your men,” cried the prince, his rage getting the better of him. “You will find that the door is barred, captain,” said Saxondale, easily. The expression that came into the faces of the four men was one not soon to be forgotten. For a full minute there was absolute silence. “Do you mean that we are prisoners?” demanded Ugo, his teeth showing, but not in a smile. “Not at all. The door has a habit of locking itself.” “I command you to open that door!” cried the prince, looking about him like a trapped rat. He snarled with rage when he saw the smile on Quentin's face. Dickey's sudden chuckle threw dismay into the ranks of the confident besiegers. “Do not be alarmed, gentlemen,” said Saxondale. “The door shall be opened in good time. Ah, I think the ladies are coming.”