“Clayton,” it said, “I have heard much of you of late—too much. You have interfered with my affairs unwarrantably and to my inconvenience. Therefore you are to die.” There was a little pause here. “One of my lieutenants has begged me for your life, however, and while I will not grant that, you may choose the manner of your death. In a moment or so you will be asleep. When you wake one of my lieutenants will see you and hear your wishes. That is all.” The voice ceased and left me standing alone in a bare room, fear and despair in my heart and cold sweat on my face. For there was a power of doom, of finality, about this voice that carried more terror and more conviction than my waning courage could stand. But it did not matter. For though I was entirely alone and I could detect no change in the room nor in the air I breathed, my thoughts drew inward slowly, the walls of the room seemed to withdraw to an immeasurable distance, and in a moment my legs gave way under me and I sank to the floor. For a little more, consciousness of my surroundings seemed to flicker dimly, and then I plunged into the darkness of complete oblivion. I have no exact means of telling how long it was before I came to my senses again. I only know that one moment I was not, and the next I was dimly aware of myself. I was in complete darkness now, but the air of my room was fresh with the out-of-doors. I turned my head slowly. Then I sat up. My thoughts were suddenly extraordinarily clear and I felt no pain of any kind. Evidently the gas, or whatever it was with which they had put me to sleep, had no bad after-effects. At all events I felt none. I was suddenly aware that I was looking through a barred window and that the stars shone through it. And with this sight came the realization of a queer feature of this place into which I had ventured. For since I had entered it, this was the first window I had seen. With some difficulty, for I was a little weak, I struggled to my feet and caught hold of the bars to look out. There was no glass in the window and the night air came through it, cool on my face. I took in deep breaths of it. And suddenly the despair which had settled about my heart with returning consciousness lifted a little. At all events I was still alive and had my ring. I felt for it. It was still on my finger and the safety catch was still open. It was lucky that I had not stabbed myself with it in falling. Then I began to explore the place. It was a small bare room, with one door of heavy metal bars. There was only one window and there was no furniture of any kind. Of course the door was locked, but I fumbled in my pocket and found a match, lighting it to have a look at the lock. For my little file was in my pocket, of course. Suddenly I regretted lighting the match. It might have been seen and I wanted time, for I had determined at once to saw through the thinner bars of the window. I felt in my pocket. The little box containing the tiny file was gone!