“It is a serious moment, this, Mr. Orden,” Fenn reminded him. “You are in the prime of life, and there is a scandal connected with your present position which your permanent disappearance would certainly not dissipate. Remember--” He stopped short. A whistle in the corner of the room was blowing. Bright moved towards it, but at that moment there was the sound of flying footsteps on the wooden stairs outside, and the door was flung open. Catherine, breathless with haste, paused for a moment on the threshold, then came forward with a little cry. “Julian!” she exclaimed. He gazed at her, speechless, but with a sudden light in his eyes. She came across the room and dropped on her knees by his couch. The two men fell back. Fenn slipped back between her and the door. They both removed their masks, but they held them ready. “Oh, how dared they!” she went on. “The beasts! Tell me, are you ill?” “Weak as a kitten,” he faltered. “They’ve poisoned me with their beastly gases.” Catherine rose to her feet. She faced the two men, her eyes flashing with anger. “The Council will require an explanation of this, Mr. Fenn!” she declared passionately. “Barely an hour ago you told us that Mr. Orden had escaped from Hampstead.” “Julian Orden,” Fenn replied, “has been handed over to our secret service by the unanimous vote of the Council. We have absolute liberty to deal with him as we think fit.” “Have you liberty to tell lies as to his whereabouts?” Catherine demanded. “You deliberately told the Council he had escaped, yet, entirely owing to Mr. Furley, I find you down here at Bermondsey with him. What were you going to do with him when I came in?” “Persuade him to restore the packet, if we could,” Fenn answered sullenly. “Rubbish!” Catherine retorted. “You know very well that he is our friend. You have only to tell him the truth, and your task with him is at an end.” “Steady!” Julian muttered. “Don’t imagine that I have any sympathy with your little nest of conspirators.” “That is only because you do not understand,” Catherine assured him. “Listen, and you shall hear the whole truth. I will tell you what is inside that packet and whose signatures you will find there.” Julian gripped her wrist suddenly. His eyes were filled with a new fear. He was watching the two men, who were whispering together. “Catherine,” he exclaimed warningly, “look out! These men mean mischief. That devil Bright invents a new poisonous gas every day. Look at Fenn buckling on his mask. Quick! Get out if you can!” Catherine’s hand touched her bosom. Bright sprang towards her, but he was too late. She raised a little gold whistle to her lips, and its pealing summons rang through the room. Fenn dropped his mask and glanced towards Bright. His face was livid. “Who’s outside?” he demanded. “The Bishop and Mr. Furley. Great though my confidence is in you both, I scarcely ventured to come here alone.”