"No story to tell?" he said incredulously. "But weren't you abducted?" She nodded. "There's that much you know," she said; "I was abducted and taken away. I have been detained and I think drugged." "No harm has come to you?" he asked anxiously. Again she shook her head. "But where did they take you? Who was it? Who were the people?" "I can't tell you," she said. "You don't know?" She hesitated. "Yes, I think I know, but I can't tell you." "But why?" he asked in astonishment. "Because the man who rescued me begged me not to tell, and, Stafford, you don't know what he saved me from." "He--he--who was it?" asked Stafford. "The man called Jack o' Judgment," said the girl slowly, and Stafford jumped up with a cry. "Jack o' Judgment!" he said. "I ought to have guessed! Did you see his face?" he demanded eagerly. She shook her head again. "Did he give you any clue as to his identity?" "None whatever," she replied with a little gleam of amusement in her eyes. "What a detective you are, Stafford! And I thought you were coming down here to tell me"--the colour went to her cheeks--"well, to tell me the news," she added hastily. "Is there any news?" "None, except----" Then he remembered that she knew nothing whatever of her father's death and its tragic sequel, and this was not the moment to tell her. Later, when she was stronger, perhaps. She was watching him with trouble in her eyes. She had noted how quickly he had stopped and guessed that there was something to be told which he was withholding for fear of hurting her. Her father was uppermost in her mind and it was natural that she should think of him. "Is there any news of my father?" she asked quietly. "None," he lied. "You're not speaking the truth, Stafford." She put her hand on his arm. "Stafford, is there any news of my father?" He looked at her, and she saw the pain in his face. "Why don't you wait a little while, and I'll tell you all the news," he said with an assumption of gaiety. "There have been several fashionable weddings----" "Please tell me," she said, "Stafford. I've been for weeks under the influence of a drug, and somehow it has numbed pain, even mental pain, and perhaps you will never find me in a better condition to hear--the worst." "The worst has happened, Maisie," he said gently. "He has been arrested?" she asked. He shook his head. "No, dear, worse than that." "Not--not suicide?" she said between her set teeth. Again he shook his head. "He is dead," he said softly. "Dead!" There was a long silence which he did not break. "Dead!" she said again. "How?" "He was shot by--we think it was by a member of the Boundary Gang, a man named Raoul." She looked up at him. "I have never heard my father speak of him." "He was a man imported from France, according to our theory." "And was he captured?" "He was killed too," said Stafford; "he was caught in the act and instantly executed." "By whom?" she asked. "By Jack o' Judgment," replied Stafford.