With a sigh of relief he turned back into the room. A voluminous red flannel night-gown, draped chastely over the end of the bed beside a still more voluminous white flannel night-shirt, caught his eye for the first time and he smiled absently. Somebody (he had not the faintest idea who) must at some time have explained away their absence of luggage, and this was the good woman’s reply. He smiled again. Laura saw the smile and trembled. To her alarmed eye it was the smile of gloating anticipation. Her already enfeebled knees sagged a little further. “And now,” said Mr. Priestley, “to business!” and he walked briskly towards the bed. The way to the wash-stand, it may be remarked, took him past the end of the bed. It was the last straw. Unable to bear this final blow, Laura’s long-suffering knees collapsed altogether. She tottered into a chair. “Please!” said Laura faintly. “Don’t!” “Why not?” asked the surprised Mr. Priestley, who only wanted to go to the wash-stand. “Because—because—well, surely you see.” “Upon my soul, I don’t,” said Mr. Priestley, his eyes fixed longingly on the wash-stand. Laura coloured deeply. For a young woman who prided herself upon being above all things modern she found herself horribly embarrassed. “Well,” she said desperately, “it—it isn’t playing the game exactly, is it?” “Why ever not?” asked Mr. Priestley in astonishment. There was an uneasy pause. “You’re—you’re stronger than me, of course,” Laura pleaded in her most heartrending tones. Laura had often employed these useful tones with malicious intent; now she was using them in deadly earnest. “You’re—you’re stronger than me, and you know I can’t very well cry for help. You know I’m in your power, if you do use force, but——” Her voice, trembling with real terror, died away. She moistened her dry lips. Mr. Priestley began to get annoyed. Here he was, anchored to a chair, when he wanted to be at that wash-stand. What on earth had the wretched girl got into her head now? It was the last hope. Did she _want_ to go on wearing these damnable handcuffs? “I shall certainly use force,” he said crossly, “if you persist in being so unreasonable.” “I’m not unreasonable!” Laura cried, her fear giving way to indignation before this distorted view. “Indeed you are,” said Mr. Priestley with legitimate irritation. “Extremely unreasonable. What’s the point? Besides, to put the matter on personal grounds, I’ve surely done enough for you to enable you to do this little thing for me.” “_Oh!_” Laura gasped. “_Little_ thing!” “Besides,” said Mr. Priestley quite angrily, “it may not even be successful.” “I’ll see that it isn’t!” said Laura grimly, when she had recovered her breath. “But we must try it, at any rate. Now, please come along, and stop being so absurd.” And grasping her wrist, Mr. Priestley pulled. Her eyes sparkling stormily, Laura pulled back. Now that it had come to the point, her fears seemed to have left her. She was just furiously angry.