“Go and fetch him down,” he said peremptorily to the Soudanese. And Jake vanished. “One way or another this shall end,” he murmured, gazing at the old woman in her lowly position among the heaped confusion of the floor; and he waited, eyeing at intervals the door. At length the door opened, and the Soudanese came in, and he was leading by the hand Josephus Ilam. Jetsam stepped quickly behind them and shut and locked the door. “Now then, Ilam,” said he, “sit down. Make him sit down, Jake.” And quite obediently Ilam sat down on a chair, near the night-table. He made no remark; he scarcely looked round; his senses seemed to be dulled; it was as though his mind had retired to some fastness from which it refused to emerge. “What do you want?” Ilam demanded gloomily. “What have you been doing?” “I’m going to make one last appeal to you, Ilam,” said Jetsam. “I kidnapped you for this, I may tell you. I was determined to confront the mother and the son if necessity should arise. But you nearly did for me by swallowing too much of that blessed opiate. You are clumsy, even when you are a victim. However, you’ve got over it nicely, haven’t you? Pretty notion, wasn’t it,” he continued, “to conceal you in your own attic, where no one would ever think of looking for you? But it wanted doing, my weighty friend--it wanted doing.” “What are you after?” Ilam asked again, as if in the grip of one fixed idea. “You’ve got the money--what else do you want?” “You know perfectly well what I want,” said Jetsam. “My case is complete except for that photograph, and I’ve secured as much money as will keep me on my pins till I’ve forced you to see reason. But the photograph is lacking; you are aware of that. It’s certainly rather hard lines on you that you should be forced to give up the very thing whose possession by me will ruin you. But what would you have? I am desperate, and no one knows better than you and this sad creature here that my cause is just. Tell me where the photograph is.” “I don’t know what you mean,” said Ilam doggedly. Jetsam turned to Mrs. Ilam. “Listen, murderess,” he said, and Ilam shuddered at that word: “if you do not answer my questions I will kill your son before your eyes. Does Ilam know where the photograph is?” Once again the old woman obstinately shut her eyes and refused to give any indication. Ilam, who seemed mentally to be quickly regaining his normal state, stood up and moved to the fireplace. “Stand!” said Jetsam angrily, and he drew his revolver from his pocket. “I will know where that photograph is or I will hang for you. I shall not be the first man who has died in a good cause. Now, where is that photograph? Did you or your mother take it out of the box?” He lifted the revolver. “I took it out of the box,” snarled Ilam--“I--I--I--and my mother knew nothing.” “And where is it?” asked Jetsam, smiling triumphantly.