“I won’t scream,” she managed to mumble, and the stifling palm was removed. “You scream, I cut your t’roat. You not scream, I not cut your t’roat--not hurt.” “I shan’t scream,” she said in a low voice. “May I get up, please?” There was a whispered consultation in a language which held some gutturals, and then the man who had first spoken said: “You sit on a chair, keep very quiet, long time, long time.” He gripped her by the arm and assisted her back to the dining room, guiding her to a chair, though there was enough light from a street lamp for her to pick her way. There were two men--little men; their heads were not much above her shoulder. Broad, squat, and, as she had reason to know, immensely strong. She could not see their faces; by accident or arrangement their backs were to the window. He who was evidently chief of the two said something in an unknown language, and his companion withdrew to the landing, and the hall and landing lights went out. Presently he came back, and, to her surprise, he was joined by a third. Again there was a whispered consultation, and the third man disappeared, the other two squatting on the carpet before her, impassive, silent, watching, as she guessed, with eyes that did not leave her for a second. A quarter of an hour they sat thus, and then: “I speak English liddle bit. I hear English well,” said the man. “I tell you trut’. Last night you get t’roat cut. This night no hurt.” He added a phrase she could not understand. “What are you going to do with me?” she asked. “Presently by and by,” said the little man, after he had repeated her words slowly and had grasped their meaning, “you and me walk into car. While you walk you see peoples. If you speak to peoples I cut your t’roat.” Very definite, but the repetition of the phrase amused her mildly. “You’re rather monotonous, aren’t you?” she asked. “And after I get into the car what happens?” There was a pause while he took this in. “By and by you see,” he said. The third man came back now, and she gathered that he was in reality the leading member of the gang, for on his word the two others vanished through the door and he took their place. “You won’t be hurt unless you give us trouble,” he said. To her surprise he spoke in perfect English. “My patron requires you.” “Who is your patron?” It gave her a sense of comfort to know that this queer little shape could understand all she said, and could converse intelligently. It made him less of a strange and menacing animal, and removed some of the terror from the situation. And it delayed the moment when she would find her cumbersome garter a vital safeguard. “I cannot answer your questions, miss,” he replied. “But you will not be hurt. Last night you would have been killed--I myself would have killed you--but that is not the order to-day. If you are sensible and quiet, nothing will happen.”