“I pretty well knew that he’d get you out of the house in the night, but I also knew that he couldn’t take you far. It was impossible to watch all sides of the house, and besides, it would have been as impossible to get back on foot in time to intercept him. As I expected, the house was empty when I made my search. I had formed a plan which was fairly elementary. When he showed me the underground cellar room, I slipped a spare gun and a small kit of tools amongst the bedding, for I guessed that would be the place he would put me--that is, if he managed to catch me. Honestly, I don’t believe he thought of drugging me until I suggested it myself, and then he did his work in the most clumsy way. He told me that he heard somebody moving outside in order to distract my attention, and of course my attention was distracted. When he had dropped the dope into my coffee, I had a little distraction of my own. I found an excuse to go out into the yard, poured away the coffee, and when I came back I stood in the doorway, giving him the impression that I was drinking. I was standing and he was sitting, so he couldn’t tell whether there was coffee in the cup or not. But he was so smugly satisfied that he did what I knew he would do--‘lured’ me down into the underground room--and I was glad to be lured. I knew that the moment I was safely under lock and key, he would bring you back again. I had cached my gun and tools, and when he came in and found me unconscious, he did not trouble to search the room again. If he had, he would have been shocked to have had a most unpleasant beating from the helpless creature on the bed!” “But how did you get out?” “That was easy. Almost any key could have opened that old-fashioned lock, and I came prepared with several. I waited all day because I was certain that he would not bring you back until night. The handcuffs were the most difficult part; I hadn’t a key to fit them. It took me two hours’ hard work and a nearly dislocated thumb to slip them off.” They stopped at an all-night filling station, replenished the tank, and continued their way to London. “I know one person who will be happy to-night,” said Michael, as the car sped up the Bayswater Road. “I wonder whether she got the day off?” “Whom do you mean?” asked the girl, aroused from an unpleasant reverie. “Miss Elizabeth Smith.” “Mr. Dorn, do you really think that there’s no danger to my mother?” she asked, for the moment oblivious to everything except the woman’s danger. “None, I should imagine,” he said. The car stopped before the house in Charlotte Street, and Mr. Mackenzie answered the knock. “Have you Miss Smith with you?” he asked, after he had welcomed the girl. “Lizzy?” said Lois in surprise. “She wasn’t with me. I haven’t seen her. Why do you ask?” “She went to Gallows Farm with his lordship.” “With his lordship?” said Michael, in surprise. “Do you mean Lord Moron?” “They left at eight o’clock,” said the old man, “in a hired car.”