"Confound it!" he thought. "It's deuced annoying, but it isn't as bad as all that. I don't know why it should bowl me over. Perhaps there's another way out of this den." He walked round the room, feeling the wall for some shutter, even searching the floor for a trap-door. There was none. Save for a telephone and the table, he encountered nothing but plain surface. "Of all the infernal holes to be in," he muttered. "Trapped like this, and all through my own carelessness." And then it occurred to him that he, Everett Anstruther, late a major of his Majesty's Horse Guards Blue, and now member of Parliament for Helston, would in a few hours be haled away to prison on a charge of attempted burglary. A pleasant situation, truly! He felt ill--worse than before. His head ached, and his temples throbbed. What on earth did it mean? He had been in tight places before--once in Italy, when his life wasn't worth a moment's purchase, and then he was absolutely cool. But now---- [Illustration: "'YOU ARE A THIEF.'" (_p. 93._)] He started as if a pistol had been fired. A bell had rung behind him--an electric bell. It was the telephone bell, and it was still ringing. He watched it in dismay. It would rouse the whole house. Lift down the receiver, of course. He did so. The bell stopped. He put the receiver to his ear. "Are you there?" a voice asked. He did not reply. There was no need. While the receiver was off the bell wouldn't ring. "If you don't answer I shall wake the house," came the voice, as if in answer to his thoughts. The Major groaned inwardly. "Yes, I'm here," he replied. "Good. How do you feel?" "Oh, pretty tollollish," he answered. "Must be the doctor," he thought. "What is your name?" "Smithers," said the Major, with a sudden inspiration. "John Smithers." "John Smithers," came the slow response. "Thank you. Your age last birthday?" "It seems to me he has been examining Blyth's factotum for life insurance," thought the Major. "Lucky I caught on so well. But what an extraordinary idea to collect these statistics at something after midnight." "Age last birthday, please," came down the wire again. "Thirty-five," replied the Major. "Nothing like the truth in an emergency," he added to himself. "John Smithers, aged thirty-five," was repeated. "Late occupation?" "Soldier." "Good. Very good. Late occupation, soldier. Any pension?" "Yes." "What a fool you are to risk it for a bit of radium." The Major stepped back in sheer amazement. "What did you say?" he asked. "Whatever made you risk your pension for a bit of radium?" "Don't know what you mean." "Then I'll explain. You are a thief, locked up in Professor Blyth's dark room. Isn't that so?" "Who are you?" asked the Major in dismay. "Professor Blyth." "The devil!" Anstruther ejaculated. "No, sir--Professor Blyth," came the response. "Where are you?" asked the Major.