“I am loyal to others as well as to you,” interposed the maid, firmly. “To-morrow you will find that--but, there, I must say no more. Your bedchamber is off here, Miss. You will let me prepare you for the sleep you need so much? No harm can come to you here.” Dorothy suddenly felt her courage returning; her brain began to busy itself with hopes, prospects, plans. After all they could not, would not kill her; she was too valuable to them. There was the chance of escape and new strength in the belief that she could in some way outwit them; there was a vast difference between the woman who suffered herself to be put to bed by the deft, kindly maid, and the one who dragged herself hopelessly into the room such a short time before. With the growth of hope and determination there came the courage to inspect her surroundings. The rooms were charming. There was a generous, kindly warmth about them that suggested luxury, refinement and the hand of a connoiseur. The rugs were of rare quality, the furnishings elegant, the appointments modern and complete. She could not suppress a long breath of surprise and relief: it was no easy matter to convince herself that she was not in some fastidious English home. Despite the fearful journey, ending in the perilous ascent over rocks and gullies, she felt herself glowing with the belief that she was still in Brussels, or, at the worst, in Liege. Her amazement on finding her own trunk and the garments she had left in her chamber the night before was so great that her troubled, bewildered mind raced back to the days when she marvelled over Aladdin's wonderful lamp and the genii. How could they have secured her dresses? But how could anything be impossible to these masters in crime? Once when her eyes fell upon the dark windows a wistful, eager expression came into them. The maid observed the look, and smiled. “It is fully fifty feet to the ground,” she said, simply. Miss Garrison sighed and then smiled resignedly. Worn out in body and mind, she sank into sleep even while the mighty, daring resolve to rush over and throw herself from the window was framing itself in her brain. The resolve was made suddenly, considered briefly and would have been acted on precipitously had not the drowsy, lazy influence of slumber bade her to wait a minute, then another minute, another and another, and then--to forget. Sunlight streamed into the room when she opened her eyes, and for a few minutes she was in a state of uncanny perplexity. Where was she? In whose bed--then she remembered. With the swiftness of a cat she left the bed and flew to the window to look out upon--space at first, then the trees and rocks below. The ground seemed a mile below the spot on which she stood. Gasping with dread she shrank back and covered her eyes with her tense fingers.