"Sign this cheque, and you shall see her if you wish," said the man who had written out the draft. "She will remain with you here till eleven to-morrow." "Why should I give you a thousand pounds?" I demanded. "Is not a thousand a small price to pay for the service we are prepared to render you--to return to you your lost lady-love?" queried the fellow. I was dying with anxiety to see her, to speak with her, to hold her hand. Had she not warned me against this cunningly-devised trap, yet had I not foolishly fallen into it? They had followed me to England, and run me to earth at home! "And supposing that I gave you the money, how do I know that you would keep faith with me?" I asked. "We shall keep faith with you, never fear," Reckitt replied, his sinister face broadening into a smile. "It is simply for you to pay for your release; or we shall hold you here--until you submit. Just your signature, and to-morrow at eleven you are a free man." "And if I refuse, what then?" I asked. "If you refuse--well, I fear that you will ever regret it, that's all. I can only tell you that it is not wise to refuse. We are not in the habit of being met with refusal--the punishment is too severe." The man spoke calmly, leaning with his back against the table, the cheque and pen still in his hand. "And if I sign, you will bring Sylvia here? You will promise me that--upon your word of honour?" "Yes, we promise you," was the man's reply. "I want to see Marlowe, if he is here." "I tell you he's not here. He's across the way with her." I believe, if I could have got to my revolver at that moment, I should have shot the fellow dead. I bit my lip, and remained silent. I now felt no doubt that this was the trap of which Sylvia had given me warning on that moonlit terrace beside the Italian lake. By some unaccountable means she knew what was intended against me. This clever trapping of men was apparently a regular trade of theirs! If I could but gain time I felt that I might outwit them. Yet, sitting there like a trussed fowl, I must have cut a pretty sorry figure. How many victims had, like myself, sat there and been "bled"? "Come," exclaimed the red-faced adventurer impatiently, "we are losing time. Are you going to sign the cheque, or not?" "I shall not," was my firm response. "You already have stolen one cheque of mine." "And we shall cash it when your bank opens in the morning, my dear sir," remarked Forbes airily. "And make yourselves scarce afterwards, eh? But I've had a good look at you, remember; I could identify you anywhere," I said. "You won't have that chance, I'm afraid," declared Reckitt meaningly. "You must think we're blunderers, if you contemplate that!" and he grinned at his companion. "Now," he added, turning again to me; "for the last time I ask you if you will sign this cheque I have written." "And for the last time I tell you that you are a pair of blackguards, and that I will do nothing of the sort."