“Unlock this door,” she said, but there was no reply save the sound of the dour attendant’s footsteps on the stairs, and the girl went slowly back to her meal to confront a new problem. The appetite of youth was not to be denied, and when she had finished her meal some of her confidence and poise had returned. It was impossible that they could be keeping her prisoner; she scoffed at the idea. Possibly the locking of the door was the act of an over-zealous custodian who was to keep her safe from--she shook her head. Not from Michael Dorn. Whatever views the countess might have of him, however unforgivable had been his behaviour, he was not vindictive, nor would he pursue her in any spirit of revenge. That was the greatest impossibility of all. She tried the door again; it was undoubtedly locked. And then, in a spirit of self-preservation, she attempted to open the window, and found that two slats of wood had been so screwed as to make it impossible for the sash to rise or fall more than a few inches. The other window had been similarly dealt with. She was examining this when she saw the doctor in the yard. He wore his rusty frock coat, but he was collarless, and on his head was an old golf cap. Walking with unsteady steps to the gate through which she had come, and which was open, with some difficulty he closed it. She needed no special knowledge of human weakness to see that he had been drinking more than was good for him, for his gait was unsteady, and when, turning back to the house, he saw her, and yelled a greeting, it was interrupted by a hiccough. “Had a good sleep, young friend?” he shouted. “Has that old hag brought your lunch?” “Doctor”--she spoke through the slit of the sash--“can’t I come down? She has locked me in.” “Locked you in?” The statement seemed to afford him some amusement, for he rocked with laughter. “Well, well, fancy locking you in! She must be afraid of you, my dear. Don’t you worry, you’re all right. I’ll look after you. You’ve heard no voices, have you? Seen nobody following you around, eh? You’ll be all right in a day or two.” His words filled her with apprehension. Once before, at the luncheon where she had met him, he had spoken about mysterious voices and people following her. Did he think she was mad? She went cold at the thought. Going to the door, she waited for him to come up the stairs, but there was no sound from below, only a soft patter of feet, and presently something snuffled under the door and there was a low growl. The woman’s harsh voice called from the passage. “Bati, Bati, _hitherao_! Come down, you black _soor_!”