"I don't know if it's rummy or not--it's true! And if you don't want to see me throw myself out of the window you'll come, at once!" "For goodness' sake, don't talk about throwing yourself out of the window. You'd make an awful mess if you did. It's a bit of a drop--Hollo! here's the governor!" I heard a voice speaking behind him. "Yes, here is the governor. And pray, Master Clifford, what are you doing there?" Master Clifford vanished. In his place appeared a short dark man, with an eyeglass and a moustache turned up at the ends. He smiled in my direction as if he had known me all his life. "Delighted to see you. Lovely afternoon, isn't it? You make a charming picture in that frame." "I'm a prisoner!" I cried. "You're what?" "A prisoner!" "You look as if it were more your custom to make captives of others. Are you in earnest?" "Don't I sound as if I were in earnest? Of course I am in earnest!" I tried to explain all over again. The stupidity of some people is extraordinary. Even when I had finished he did not seem to comprehend. "Do you know that you're proposing that I should break into another man's premises?" "Do you want me to stop locked in here till you do! Because I shall go mad and kill myself long before then." "May I ask your name?" "My name is Molly Boyes, and I live at The Chase, West Marden, and I ought to have met Hetty Travers at St James's Hall at half-past two, and now I don't know what time it is!" "But I do. It's time I was off." He spoke as if he did not care a button about me. I was seized with a perfect paroxysm of fear. "Oh please--please--please--don't go and leave me!--please let me out!--please--please!" I could not see his face through my blinding tears; but I fancy I startled him. "My dear Miss Boyes! Don't distress yourself like that! You'll spoil those pretty eyes of yours! You mustn't think me a brute; but yours is such an extraordinary statement. But, as you do seem serious, I'll come round and see what I can do. By the way, where are you?" "I'm at 169; it's called The People's Stock Exchange, and belongs to a man who calls himself Kenrick, but--his--real--name's--Stephen--Miller!" "So that's The People's Stock Exchange! I wasn't aware we were such close neighbours. I begin to see daylight. So you're one of the sheep, and you've been fleeced! I fancy it won't be the first shindy they've had at that establishment. Here, Clifford, just go and find a policeman and bring him here! If you'll wait, Miss Boyes, I'll come round to you as soon as I possibly can."