Fischer laid down the receiver. He turned towards the others. He was breathing a little quickly, and his eyes glittered behind his gold-rimmed spectacles. "Miss Van Teyl," he announced, "has left for Tilbury. She is going out on the _Lapland_ this morning. My God, she's got the formula!" There was a moment's silence. Joseph was standing by with a wicked look on his face. "I saw her slip away," he muttered, "and I watched her come down again. There was just time." Fischer turned suddenly to where Graham was lying. He drew a sheet of writing paper from the rack upon the table, and a pencil from his pocket. There was an evil and concentrated significance in his tone. "That formula," he said, "can be written again. I think you had better write it." "I'll see you damned first!" was the weak but prompt reply. Fischer bent a little lower over the prostrate figure, "Look here," he went on, "we don't run risks like this for nothing. You're better dead than alive, so far as we are concerned, anyway. We'd planned to take the formula from you, and you can guess the rest. There are cellars underneath here into which no one ever goes who matters. Now here's a chance of life for you. Write down that formula--truthfully, mind--and we'll discuss the matter of taking your parole." "See you damned first!" Graham repeated, his voice a little more tremulous but still convincing. Fischer stood upright and turned to Jules. "Get a bottle of brandy and a glass," he ordered. The man pushed open the trap-door and disappeared. He came back again in a few moments, with a bottle in one hand and a glass in the other. Fischer poured out some of the cordial and drew a small table up to Graham's side. "There," he said, loosening the cord around his left wrist, "drink that, and think it over. We shall be gone for about ten minutes. If you change your mind before, ring that little hand-bell. If you have not changed your mind when we return, it will be the cellars." "Beasts!" Graham muttered. Fischer shrugged his shoulders. For a moment he had straightened himself. His face had softened, but it was in tune with his thoughts. "I would twist the necks of a million fools like you," he said, "for the sake of--" He paused, leaving his sentence uncompleted, and beckoned to the other men. They followed him through the trap-door and down into the cellars below. The place was once more silent. Graham rolled from side to side, drew a long breath, and tugged vainly at his bonds. The effort overtaxed his strength. He seemed to feel the darkness closing in upon him, the rushing of the sea in his ears.... CHAPTER V