“You are mad!” she exclaimed, clinging to her courage. “For your own sake give up this crazy notion. Otherwise you’ll be dreadfully punished!” With a short laugh he moved away a few paces, then faced her again. “You deliberately won’t understand my love for you, Kitty, and you don’t understand my power—as yet. For your own sake, and another’s, I beg you once more to give in without forcing me to use—” “Oh, what is the good of all this talk? You can make things uncomfortable for me for a few days, perhaps, but you can never compel me to do the most hateful thing I can imagine—in other words, marry you. And that is my last word, Mr. Symington.” She took up her book and opened it, but her fingers trembled on the page. With difficulty he restrained his passion. “Very well,” he said a little thickly. “I’m sorry, but you force me on the course I would have avoided if possible.” Softly he cleared his throat. “Now I’ll explain. A little while ago I received a telephone message to the effect that . . . ah!” he exclaimed. An electric bell had sounded in the distance. “Let us wait.” He smiled as he took out his cigarette case, but the fingers that presently held the match were not much steadier than hers. “Listen, listen!” he muttered. In spite of herself Kitty listened. At first her ears could detect nothing; then they heard the closing of a distant, heavy door. A brief period of silence was followed by the sound, faint to begin with, of slow, heavy footfalls. Soon she realized they were descending a stone stair. Nearer they came, and at last seemed to reach the level. Nearer still—they were coming along the passage outside her door. They rang dully and erratically on the stone flags. Kitty thought of two men bearing a weighty burden. As they passed the door she heard voices, gruff and impatient. Suddenly Symington gave an odd, triumphant laugh, saying— “My second prisoner has arrived!” Involuntarily the girl lifted her eyes. “For the last time, Kitty, will you give me your word that you will marry me as soon as I can get—” She sprang to her feet. “You miserable fool,” she cried, “I’d rather be dead!” He grinned. “The more you hurt me, the more I love you! It’s no use fighting me, Kitty. I’m going to win,” he declared, “for you’re bound to give in. Why? Because my second prisoner shall not get so much as a crust until you give me your word! Remember, you forced me to it.” He swung round to the door. “You coward,” she gasped, “who is your second prisoner?” Without answering he went out. It was as though her wall of defence had suddenly crumbled into ruins. CHAPTER XXIV ON the third evening following that of Kitty’s disappearance, Risk was reading a letter which the last post had just brought him. The letter was from Anthony West, and the important part of it ran as follows:—