For some seconds they were both petrified. And then Joe Blaythwayt gave vent to one strangled yelp of apprehension and rushed across the room, and she heard him go blinding down the corridor towards the stairs. CHAPTER XXV MAHOMET AND THE MOUNTAIN Susan had thought she would never have been able to sleep that night, but she managed it somehow. She had waited for an hour and a half after Morini had dashed out of the cellars, and, when he failed to return, she lay down on the mattresses and pulled a blanket over her. For a long time her thoughts gave her no rest. They milled and clamoured tumultuously through her head, whirling her through mazes of doubt and perplexity and conjuring up hideous visions to line the route. And then, in some miraculous fashion that nevertheless seemed eminently natural, the hullabaloo merged into a dull monotonous humming blackness, and with a detached, infinitely distant interest she observed herself sinking into great dark depths of fathomless quiet.... She awoke with a start, roused by the sound of someone unbarring the door, and looked at her watch. To her surprise she found that it was nearly nine o'clock. The man who entered was not Mecklen, but Morini. She was glad of that, illogically, for, although the gentle Gat was probably as sinister a scoundrel as Lew, he was far less obtrusively so. Mecklen had never been a gentleman, and was therefore inclined to be somewhat vulgar in his villainy; Morini might be more dangerous, but he was less repulsive, and she felt more in the mood for tackling a Morini than a Mecklen. As it happened, however, there was nothing menacing about the educated Gat that morning. He was carrying a tray which had been decorated with a clean white cloth and which was laden with much more attractive fare than Mecklen had brought her the previous night. The coffee-pot was silver, and the jug of steaming milk was spotless; there were two slices of toast in a rack, and eggs and bacon reposed on a plate that was neither chipped nor cracked; he had added an immaculate cup to replace the battered enamel mug which Mecklen had given her, and had even remembered to include a napkin. He gave her a polite "Good morning," and smiled as he noted her puzzlement at the stainless furniture of his burden. "These things belong to the Chief," he explained. "He isn't home for breakfast, so you're in luck." He leaned against the door and watched her eat. She was able to muster a respectable appetite, and was especially grateful for the refreshing heat of the coffee, for the cellars were none too warm. The only other discomfort she had felt was a certain stiffness from her cramped bedding, but a little free movement would soon remedy that.