During that wait I did not dare let myself think of the words of Ivanovitch about the gardens. Neither my sister nor Natalie was present at the banquet. I was certain of that, for I had looked at every girl in the room very carefully, as opportunity offered. Nor was either of them among the dancers. That left the entertainment, the gambling-rooms and the gardens. And of the last I dared not think. But I had plenty to think about. Up to the time of my parting from Ivanovitch in the little anteroom I was convinced that he, and therefore the rest of the gang, knew all about me. And the appearance of Mrs. Fawcette in my room bore out this view. But if this was the case, why had they allowed me to go unmolested so long? And why had Mrs. Fawcette been seized and carried away as soon as she got to me? They were questions which seemed impossible to answer, but I kept on trying, for I was convinced that an answer to either of them would go a long way toward determining my next move. Had I a friend in the place? Was that the explanation? Were they merely playing with me? Had Mrs. Fawcette got into trouble with them and come to me for help? Or was it possible that they really did not suspect me, and that the words of Ivanovitch were only in the nature of coincidences? Mrs. Fawcette might have been looking for some one else altogether when she came into my room. At all events I could not now depend upon Pride having traced me, although there was still a hope that the motor policeman had not been caught in the crash and had been able to follow on to our destination. If anything was to be done immediately to locate where I was, so that we could trace the place and break it up, I had to do it and do it to-night. And the only way to do that, that I could see, was to escape from the house somehow, make my way back to town and retrace my steps with reënforcements. But in spite of the need for action, the fatigue of long days of intense excitement broken by very little sleep got at me, lying motionless there in the darkness, and for a time I dozed off. It may be that the drug which I had most certainly been given, although in very small quantities, had something to do with it. It was only a doze, however, and some inward monitor must have been on guard, for at one-thirty, the time I had planned to begin my search, I woke up with a start and looked at my watch. I was still in complete darkness. And the room and the house too seemed silent with the silence of the dead. I could hear no sound at all. Nevertheless the silence seemed to have an eerie quality. It seemed not the silence of rest and forgetfulness, but the silence of motionless watchfulness. Such tricks will the imagination play at such a time. I, too, lay quiet and listened for what seemed a long time. But it was only a quarter to two when I finally rose, as noiselessly as I could, from the bed and tip-toed to my door.