The only illumination in the cosy dining-room was a shaded kerosene lamp which stood on the table by her side and gave her sufficient light for her work. All outside the range of the lamp was shadow. She had finished darning a pair of her father’s socks, and had laid down the needle with a happy sigh, when her eyes went to the door leading to the kitchen. It was ajar, and it was opening slowly. For a moment she sat paralysed with terror, and then leapt to her feet. “Who’s there?” she called. There came into the shadowy doorway a figure, the very sight of which choked the scream in her throat. It looked tall, by reason of the tightly-fitting black coat it wore. The face and head were hidden behind a hideous mask of rubber and mica. The reflection of the lamp shone on the big goggles and filled them with a baleful fire. “Don’t scream, don’t move!” said the masked man, and his voice sounded hollow and far away. “I will not hurt you.” “Who are you?” she managed to gasp. “I am The Frog,” said the stranger. For an eternity, as it seemed, she stood helpless, incapable of movement, and it was he who spoke. “How many men love you, Ella Bennett?” he asked. “Gordon and Johnson—and The Frog, who loves you most of all!” He paused, as though he expected her to speak, but she was incapable of answering him. “Men work for women, and they murder for women, and behind all that they do, respectably or unrespectably, there is a woman,” said the Frog. “And you are that woman for me, Ella.” “Who are you?” she managed to say. “I am The Frog,” he replied again, “and you shall know my name when I have given it to you. I want you! Not now”—he raised his hand as he saw the terror rising in her face. “You shall come to me willingly.” “You’re mad!” she cried. “I do not know you. How can I—oh, it’s too wicked to suggest . . . please go away.” “I will go presently,” said the Frog. “Will you marry me, Ella?” She shook her head. “Will you marry me, Ella?” he asked again. “No.” She had recovered her calm and something of her self-possession. “I will give you——” “If you gave me all the money there was in the world, I would not many you,” she said. “I will give you something more precious.” His voice was softer, scarcely audible. “I will give you a life!” She thought he was speaking of Dick Gordon. “I will give you the life of your brother.” For a second the room spun round and she clutched a chair to keep her feet. “What do you mean?” she asked. “I will give you the life of your brother, who is lying in Gloucester Gaol under sentence of death!” said the Frog. With a supreme effort Ella guided herself to a chair and sat down. “My brother?” she said dully. “Under sentence of death?” “To-day is Monday,” said the Frog. “On Wednesday he dies. Give me your word that when I send for you, you will come, and I will save him.” “How can you save him?” The question came mechanically.