At the end of what seemed a very long, yet too short period, the man said— “We are practically there now.” And under his breath he added: “Thank God!” The brougham lurched round a corner; presently its pace slackened. The man drew up the blind on the left, and, the moment the motion ceased, threw open the door and jumped out, laying her bag on the ground. “Will you get out, please?” he said. His voice had become husky and fearful. She obeyed and looked about her. “But surely this is not—” Speech failed as the man, with a whispered “Forgive,” sprang into the brougham, which immediately started. “Oh, hell!” groaned the man, “to think I’ve lived to be driven to this for the sake of twenty pounds!” Kitty found herself standing on the earthen foot-walk of a badly-lighted road, in front of an iron gate, open, with a shrub-bordered path leading to a large, dark house. That was all she had grasped when some one sprang upon her, a heavy shawl was thrown over her head and face, and—her senses failed. * * * * * She came to herself, lying on a couch in a large room with a low ceiling which, like the walls, had been whitewashed but lately, for there were dampish patches here and there. The floor was of stone flags, but its bareness was partly covered by Turkey rugs. There were no windows, unless one cared to give the name to a couple of oblong openings protected by gratings close to the roof. Two electric bulbs, which with their wires, had evidently been hurriedly installed, depended from the ceiling; an electric heater glowed in a niche in one of the walls. Across one of the corners a curtain had been hung on a wire, and being only partially drawn, permitted a glimpse of a small white bed, a white dressing-table and a white wash-stand. Near the centre of the room was a round table covered with a new cloth and decorated with two pairs of silver flower-vases containing carnations. A middle-aged woman was engaged in putting the finishing touches to a meal consisting of a cold chicken, sliced ham, salad, bread and butter, and so forth, also a small bottle of champagne and a syphon of lemonade. Kitty sat up, but was still too dazed to notice the incongruities. She saw only a woman’s back and the white walls. “Have they put me in prison?” she asked faintly. The woman turned a red, expressionless face, and answered— “Maybe, Miss. But your supper’s ready. Kindly ring if you want anything.” “I want to see the—the inspector,” said the girl, still groping in a mist. “Yes, Miss. To-morrow, maybe. Your bed’s ready when you want it.” She went out. Kitty pressed her palms to her temples, and with eyes closed remained motionless for several minutes. Then, with a sigh, she took courage to look about her. It was well that she had a healthy heart, for at the realization of her surroundings a weakly one must surely have stopped. CHAPTER XXII