Chesney Praye was pacing up and down the room, a worried frown on his face. This was a development that he had not looked for. “Perhaps it is better,” he said. “I shall be taking away the girl to-night.” “The countess didn’t----” began the doctor. “You needn’t worry about the countess. She’d have telephoned, but she shared your fear of the exchange. The girl and Mrs. Pinder are to be moved. The risk of keeping them here is too great. Dorn has people working for him and you’ll wake one morning to find a cordon of police round the house.” “Where will you go?” “I shall take her abroad.” “And the other woman?” Chesney looked at him oddly. “I may want the other woman--later,” he said. “I had better bring Reddle down,” said the doctor, rising and going to the door, but Praye beckoned him back. “There is no hurry,” he said. He evidently had something which he had hesitated to say. “What are your plans, Tappatt?” “Mine? I shall have to flit, I suppose. They’re striking me off the register, at least Dorn told me so.” “What will you do with him?” An ugly smile showed for a second on the doctor’s face. “I don’t know. He is going to be a difficulty. I’ve seen that from the first. I could leave him, and that is what I shall probably do. Nobody would come near the farm perhaps for months, perhaps for a year.” Chesney Praye’s face was ashen. “Leave him to starve?” he whispered. “Why not?” asked the other coolly. “Who would know? I thought of going to Australia. And I’d take my nurse with me. She would think that I had let Dorn out, and anyway she’s not the kind of person to ask questions. This place is Lady Moron’s property. Who would visit it if I left? It might be empty for years.” Chesney Praye’s mouth was dry, the hand that went to his lips shook. “I don’t know--it seems pretty awful,” he said irresolutely. “To leave a man--to starve!” “What will happen if he gets after me?” asked the doctor, stirring the fire that had almost gone out. “I should either starve or get my meals too regularly! I understand the food is fairly good at Dartmoor, but I am willing to take anybody’s word for it. I do not want to have a personal experience. And anyway, there’s always a way out for a medical man. I owe Dorn something. He hounded me from India, and he’s not exactly a friend of yours, is he, Chesney?” “No,” said the other shortly, “only----” “Only what? You’re chicken-hearted! What do you think is going to happen to you and me if that gets out?” He pointed to the ceiling. “It would mean the best part of a lifetime for you--more than a lifetime for me. No, sir, I am well aware of the risks I am taking and more than determined what further risks I’ll accept. You’d better have the girl down. I suppose you want to be alone?” He nodded and the doctor went out of the room, and was gone for a long while. When the door opened, Lois Reddle stood framed against the dark background of the passage. At the sight of Praye she stopped.