The chauffeur got down from his seat again and drew near to open the door. Then for the first time Kathleen, with a sinking of her heart, recognised the man as Crow. The short winter's day had now drawn to a close, and as he entered the house Melun ordered the lamps to be lit. Mme. Estelle led the way into a not ill-furnished dining-room, the window of which projected over the vast cliff. To reach this room they had traversed a long passage, and Kathleen appreciated the fact that the house was very curiously built. It consisted, indeed, of two portions, which were linked together by a long stone-flagged corridor. Melun helped himself liberally to neat brandy. Mme. Estelle sent for Crow and told him to order tea. Kathleen had been filled with an intense foreboding as she entered the house, a foreboding which increased as she slowly recognised that she and Mme. Estelle were apparently the only women in the place. For the tea was brought in by a man, not a farmhand or an honest countryman, but a villainous-looking individual with a pock-marked face and little gold earrings in the lobes of his frost-bitten ears. He walked with his feet wide apart, and with a slightly rolling gait. He had an immense bull neck, and the hands with which he grasped the tray were large, grimy and hairy. Kathleen set him down as a sailor; nor was she wrong. When tea was over Melun lit a cigarette, and drawing Mme. Estelle on one side conversed with her for some time in whispers. At the end of the whispered conference between Melun and Mme. Estelle the woman left the room without so much as a word to Kathleen or even a glance in her direction. Melun turned round with a baleful light in his eyes. “Now, my lady,” he said, “we can have this matter out.” Kathleen's afflictions had only increased her old habit of command and her natural dignity. Though in reality she was the prisoner, she might have been the captor. “Before you speak, Captain Melun,” she said, “I also have something to say. How long do you intend to keep me here? I ask this, not for my own sake, but for my father's.” “That,” said Melun, with a malicious grin, “depends entirely on your father.” “By this time, of course,” Kathleen continued, “a great hue-and-cry will have been raised after me in London. Do you intend to return there to-night? Again I ask this question for my father's sake. He should be informed of my whereabouts at once; for you must remember that he is an old man and will probably take this very much to heart.” “He will not be informed of this to-night,” said Melun, shortly. “Because,” he continued, with a villainous leer, “I am only cruel to be kind. I want to have all the details of your ransom and our marriage settled as soon as possible. A night of waiting will soften your dear old father's heart, and he will probably listen to reason in the morning.”