"It was loaded, after all," said he. "Very careless of me--eh--Parkins? Allow me to introduce you to one of our most valuable operatives--Mr. Parkins--Mr. Michael Curran. He says you have the best equipped sideboard in the city." Parkins was dumfounded. The trusted servant was an Updyke "plant," and his case now seemed hopeless. There was nothing to say, and his eyes sought the floor. "Look up, and face the music," nagged the relentless Updyke. "A brave fellow like you who connives against young women and sickly fathers surely must be a courageous man! What were your real intentions toward that girl?" yelled the big fellow, pointing his finger at the wilted Parkins. "I had no real plan," said he finally. "I was sober when I took her into my car, and I meant to keep sober. No man in his right mind would offer insult to an innocent girl." "Is that so!--then why did you, absolutely sober, and after ten days in bed with a wounded scalp--kidnap her and start for Herman's Roadhouse?" snarled Updyke. "For the sake of counterfeiting respectability the name has been changed to fool decent people. It is called a social club--bah!" "I--I--ah--or rather I should say--we were eloping--we were going to be married! She and I are engaged, and----" "Stop right where you are! Now I want you to look me squarely in the eye and tell me that lie over again." Updyke's lowering face at once took on the look of a demon. His right hand stole slowly under the left side of his coat and his eyes seemed to be turning green. "It was a lie! Don't shoot me! I'll tell the truth, sir," screamed the witness. "You already know every move, every thought, every act--what's the use? Do what you will but don't ask more questions--I'm done for!" he ended, as he swooned and fell forward, but Updyke caught him in time to save him from injury. The erstwhile "valet," stepped forward and helped to lift the limp body to the table in front of him, the barrier that had stood between him and his tormentor. "The jig is up!" said Updyke, grimly, two big tears rolling down his rugged cheeks. "We have it all. His guilt cannot be questioned. And that's the only reason why the so-called third-degree inquisitions are to be tolerated. Slap cold water on his face. He'll come out of it in a minute or so." Turning to Curran, he whispered--"Stay with him, and when he is fully aroused help him up to my suite upstairs and put a guard in with him. He can't get out, but he needs company," said he significantly. "I'm going out to Dreamy Hollow as soon as I get first copies of the testimony. Order my car around as soon as you can--no hurry--tell Miss Johnson to phone for it to be ready in an hour." With that the big fellow left the "star chamber" with its windowless walls and concrete floor, a sigh of relief escaping from between his yawning jaws. He was tired, dead tired, and victory won, left no feeling of elation in his breast.