"There are many ways we could force you to return and, as for our own safety you must be rendered impotent to work against us, we hope that you will not make it necessary for us to use the one we have chosen----" A cry of horror burst from Cleek's lips as Margot glanced significantly at Ailsa Lorne, and the meaning of that glance dawned on his senses. It was not his life that was in danger, but hers, the woman who in Margot's thoughts blocked the way to his return to his old life--and to her. Broken at last by the horror of it, a string of pleas and adjurations came from Cleek's lips. Margot listened with a scornful smile upon her lips. "The woman dies, Cracksman, unless you consent to return to Paris with us to-night." "Why not kill her first, Queen Margot?" put in the slow, seductive voice of one of the men behind them, and Cleek strove impotently at his bonds. He could not let Ailsa die, as die she would, if he refused. And if he consented, she would be lost to him forever. It was the cruellest dilemma in which man had ever been placed, and he cried aloud in agony. Margot turned on her heel and dismissed with a few words the grim, waiting members of her band. "Return to your guests, madame," she said to the Countess whose real identity Cleek would have given much to know. "You have done your work well, and we will not forget. Keep the orchestra playing, and if the sound of a shot reaches you, let no one open the door. Have a carriage at the side gate, and give orders for it to be driven where bidden. That is all, I think. I will write to you for the rest." The door shut softly and the three were alone! "You have ten minutes to decide!" Margot drew out a watch and a revolver, which Cleek knew only too well she would not hesitate to use. "My dear--my dear, forgive me, but you must be saved, whatever happens," he groaned. "And----" "Death would be preferable to life without you," said Ailsa. "Even if they kill me, they cannot force you to rejoin them. Besides, they would not dare. The police----" Margot smiled. "Brave words, Miss Ailsa Lorne, but we care not that for these pigs of English police," and she snapped her fingers. Again Cleek turned, and then a sharp knock sounded at the door. "A man just come from Paris, with some special news," said the voice of the Countess. "I will see him," was the curt reply, "but do not let any one come near the room afterward." The door opened and shut as a desperate looking a character as one could imagine entered with a swaggering mien, his cap pulled low over his eyes. How he could have come through the London streets Cleek found himself wondering, in spite of his own fearful predicament. "You have a special message for me?" said Margot, concealing the revolver in her hand. There was dead silence. The messenger evidently was listening to the sound of the retreating footsteps.