“You think I can’t do it, eh?” He had misinterpreted my expression. “Well, let me tell you I did just a year ago and got over without a scratch. To get across no-man’s-land you have to play dead, as you Yankees put it; you lie flat on the ground and pull yourself forward a foot at a time and keep your eye on the search-lights so that when they come your way you can drop on your face and lie like a corpse until they move on. It’s not pleasant, of course; but in this game we take our chances. And now I think I’ll be claiming my winnings if you please.” I straightened in my chair, recognizing a crisis. With his last phrase he had shed the bearing of Mr. John Van Blarcom, and from the disguise all in an instant there emerged the Prussian, insolent, overbearing, fixing us with a look of challenge, and addressing us with crisp command. No; the kaiser’s agent was not a figure of romance or of adventure. He was a force as able, as ruthless, as cruel as the land he served. “Miss Falconer,” he demanded briefly, “where are those papers? I am not to be played with, I assure you. If you think I am, just recall this morning, and your chauffeur. We didn’t kill him for the pleasure of it; he had his chance as you have. But when we went for our car he was there in the garage, sleeping; he seemed to think we had designs on him, and tried to rouse the inn.” “Do you call that an excuse for a murder?” I exclaimed. “You cold-blooded villain!” “I don’t make excuses.” His voice was hard and arrogant. “I am calling the matter to your notice as a kind warning, Mr. Bayne. You said a little while ago that to see a woman gagged and bound distressed you. Well, unless I have those papers within five minutes, you will see something worse than that!” At the moment what I saw was red. There was something beating in my throat, choking me; I knew neither myself nor the primitive impulses I felt. “If you lay a finger on Miss Falconer,” I heard myself saying slowly, “I swear I’ll kill you.” Then through the crimson mist that enveloped me I saw Blenheim laugh. “Come, Mr. Bayne,” he taunted me, “remember our friend Schwartzmann. This is your business, Miss Falconer, I take it. What are you going to do?” The girl flung her head back, and her eyes blazed as she answered him. “You can torture me,” she said scornfully. “You can kill me. But I will never give you the papers; you may be sure of that.” CHAPTER XXI IN THE DARK