Queen Beelzebub, alive and well, and as completely in possession of her senses as he was, sat in her big carved chair near the open fireplace just as she had sat when he paid that long distant visit with Freddy Laurance and Mildred. Her face was as wrinkled as ever, but instead of being of the ivory hue which had impressed him on a former occasion, it was deadly white, and looked particularly venomous. Her white hair had been smoothly brushed and she wore a loose cloak of scarlet velvet, which fell to her feet. But in the fall she had suffered, since Dan noticed that her right arm was bound up in bandages and splints, resting in a black silk scarf against her breast. His eyes fastened on this and Miss Armour laughed in a thin, spiteful manner, which hinted at the wrath that consumed her. "Yes," she said, in answer to his mute query, "I have broken my arm, thanks to you, Mr. Halliday. You smashed my aeroplane and sent me to the ground." "That is what you tried to do with me," said Dan, drily, and settling himself comfortably in his chair, since he felt convinced that he was in no immediate danger. "Tit for tat, Queen Beelzebub, or shall I call you Miss Armour?" "The real name or the feigned name, doesn't matter," rejoined the lady very coolly, "you can call me what you like for the time you have to live." "Oh!" said Halliday, equally coolly, and aware that the cat-and-mouse torment was beginning, "so that's it, is it?" Mrs. Jarsell stood beside her friend's chair, and was handing her food in an anxious manner. The large and ponderous woman looked like a child overcome with terror. Her eyes were sunken, her cheeks were hollow, and the immense vitality she possessed appeared to be at a very low ebb. She was arrayed in white, as usual, but her garb was not so colorless as her face. She even looked smaller than formerly, and was shrunken in her clothes. There was something pitiful in the spectacle of this large phlegmatic female broken down, worn out, and overcome with dread of the future. As she attended to Miss Armour the tears rolled down her face, which had so suddenly grown old. The sight seemed to irritate the other woman, who was much more frail, but who had a much more powerful will. Dan saw in a flash that he had been mistaken in thinking that Mrs. Jarsell was strong. Her strength lay in her imposing looks, but she was the mere tool of that fragile, delicate old lady, whose glittering eyes revealed the iron will which dominated her weak age-worn body. Here, indeed, was the true Queen Beelzebub, driven into a corner and prepared to fight to the last. Halliday felt, with a creeping of the flesh, that he had come to grips with an evil power, which it would be desperately hard to conquer. Miss Armour saw the shadow in his eyes. "You're afraid," she taunted him.