“No.” Short, sharp, and peremptory this, from the fellow who had spoken before. “Then wake my servant--his room is through the kitchen at the end of the hall and up a short flight of stairs.” “No.” Same tone from the same speaker. “All right. Then I’ll leave a line here for him to let him know what has happened.” “No.” “But he’ll think I’ve gone mad, or bolted, or----” “Come.” He was quite a master of monosyllabic dialogue. “I’ll be hanged if I will,” I flung back at him angrily. But as he pulled out a revolver and made me understand--without even a monosyllable this time--that I should be shot if I didn’t, I decided not to be obstinate. As we left the door of the house a vehicle drove up and I was bundled into it, none too gently. “Where are you taking me?” “Silence.” The word was so fiercely uttered that I saw no use in arguing the point. I sat still therefore wondering to which prison we were going and what steps I should be allowed to take to get the matter explained. The simplest course would be to send a line to Volheno; but the arrest was really an outrage, and in the interests of other Englishmen in the city, a row ought to be made about it by the British authorities. I was hesitating to which of the two quarters I would send, when the carriage stopped before a large private house, the door of which was instantly opened and I was hurried inside. Obviously I was expected. The three men took me up a broad flight of stairs and halted on the landing. The man of monosyllables went into a room at the back of the house, taking with him some papers which I concluded he had brought from my rooms; and after perhaps a couple of minutes he reopened the door and signed to us to enter. Seated at a large official-looking table was a man in evening dress reading the letter from Volheno, the receipt of which had so puzzled me on my return from the _Stella_. To my intense surprise he rose and offered me his hand. “I am sorry to have had to disturb you, Mr. Donnington, and am extremely obliged to you for having come so promptly,” he said with a courteous smile and an appearance of great cordiality. This was too much for my gravity. I looked at him in bewilderment, and then laughed. “As a matter of fact your men didn’t give me any alternative.” “I do not understand,” he replied glancing from me to the police, who looked rather sheepish. “Well, I was arrested. These men got into my rooms--I don’t know how--hauled me out of bed, would tell me nothing, except that I was under arrest; and dragged me here. That’s why I came so promptly,” I said drily. “What does this mean, you?” he thundered at the police, his eyes flaming his anger. “I was only ordered to bring him here, and I brought him,” answered the man of few words, in a hang-dog, surly tone. “By Heaven, it is infamous. Do you mean to tell me that you never delivered M. Volheno’s letter to this gentleman?” “I had no letter.”