Some one took my arm on either side, and I stumbled forward for perhaps a hundred yards over what I took to be a dirt road. But in a little our footsteps began to echo and I knew that we were under cover. There was a strong smell of gasoline and oil now—so strong that I would have been willing to swear that we were in a garage. And, judging by the echo of our footsteps, the building was quite a large one. On the way I was conscious of swift and gentle hands touching me lightly here and there, and I smiled grimly, remembering Pride’s remark about carrying a gun. My guides slowed up presently, and I stepped down a little. Then I was led to a seat. A moment later a door banged and we began to descend. I felt exactly as though I were in a nightmare. I knew that I had come out of the car on to the level ground. We had got into what was obviously an elevator, and yet the thing was going down instead of up. Of that I was certain. Moreover, my guides were entirely silent, and it was an eerie sensation to know myself helpless in the hands of my enemies, and wait blind and tied for their first move. The air grew damper and damper, with the queer moldy smell of vaults and tunnels below ground. But after perhaps two minutes of very gradual descent the elevator stopped and I was led out. And now came the queerest thing of all; for I was guided up to a step, lifted over it and placed in another seat, and then, with a gruff word from Ivanovitch, found myself moving, horizontally this time and at a considerable rate of speed. The same damp moldy air blew in my face now, so that I was certain that we were still well under ground. But the trip went on and on for at least five minutes and the little car—for it swayed enough to show me that it was small—still kept up a good speed. The crackle of a spark and a brilliant light through my bandage told me that it was electrically driven. When we did stop at last I was completely bewildered. But I had sense enough to keep my ears open still, so that I was fully aware of being guided into another elevator and shot upward again—this time much more quickly, or so it seemed. And presently the elevator stopped, I walked for a few yards and halted again. I heard Ivanovitch speak in a low voice and heard the sound of shuffling feet retreating. Then some one fumbled with the cords at my wrists and in a moment I was free. “You can remove the bandage now,” I heard Ivanovitch say, and with a great surge of relief I raised my hands and swept the blindfold from my eyes. Chapter XVIII When in Rome—— When my eyes had grown accustomed to the soft glow of electric lights, I saw that I stood, alone with Ivanovitch, in a small room delicately furnished in blue and gold. A gilded iron grille behind my guide showed where the elevator had descended again. The Russian’s eyes were fixed on me in an amused inquiry. “Well,” he said presently, “shall we proceed?” “We have arrived then?” I inquired. “What a beautiful room!”