“You will come to my rooms,” I said. He made no answer, and I walked along with him, Hinge following at a distance of a yard or two, and so far, of course, suspecting nothing. Not a word was spoken by the way, and Brunow walked like a man who was going to the scaffold. When we came to iny own rooms I locked the door and faced him. “What have you done with Ruffiano?” I asked him, sternly. “God only knows what has become of him,” cried Brunow, casting his hands abroad with a gesture which was meant to convey at once irritation and wonder. “I made my way straight back to tell the story of the extraordinary incident of to-night, and I have told it. The men we have just left can confirm me in the statement that I did not lose a minute.” He was defending himself already, though no accusation had been brought against him. “You escaped from the ship?” I asked him, curtly. “Yes,” he answered, with a gasp; “I escaped from the ship.” “How?” I asked. “I followed your example,” he returned, “and leaped overboard.” “To arrive here,” I said, “in dry clothes, having made no change?” He gave a sudden start at this, and cast a hurried glance at his own figure. Then he looked at me with an expression I shall not readily forget. It was that of a hunted creature trapped, and recognizing the fact that he was caught. “I swam ashore,” he said, “and I have changed my clothes at home.” I moved without a word to the door, and, opening it, called out to Hinge, who stood waiting for me in the darkening passage, bidding him to mount. He came and stood at attention. “Mr. Brunow,” I said, “will give you the key of his rooms, and you will go from here to there, and by his orders will bring back to me a soaked suit of clothes which you will find there. Oblige me by handing my man your key,” I added, turning again on Brunow. He shot a whisper at me. “Do you wish to have me murdered?” “I wish to know,” I answered, “and I mean to know, the truth. What have you done with Ruffiano?” “I tell you,” he cried, desperately, “I have done nothing! I know nothing! You were there yourself, and you can tell as well as I that the whole thing was a surprise. How was I to know we were being carried aboard an Austrian craft? How could I suspect the man who came to me of treachery?” “You swam ashore?” I asked. “I am not to be charged with hunting you to death because I ask for a sight of the clothes you swam in. Give Hinge your key!” “He's quite welcome to it,” he answered, turning his white, defiant face on me, and fumbling in his pocket with a hand so unnerved that he could grasp nothing with it for a minute. “There you are,” he said at last, drawing out his latch-key and handing it to Hinge. “Do as you are told.”