“Never mind what he told you,” shrilled the other. “Wash those dishes, and then you can scrub the floor; and if it is not done in half an hour I’ll put you in the cellar with the rats or give you to the dogs, and they’ll tear you to pieces! Hi, Bati! Mali!” There was a harsh growl from the dogs and a clanking of chains. “I refuse”--again the gentle voice--“I refuse!” _Crack!_ “Refuse that! Give me any trouble and I’ll whip you till you bleed. Ah, you would, would you?” There was the sound of a struggle and the horrified girl, craning her neck, saw a frail woman stumble and fall to the ground, saw the cruel whip rise and fall---- “Stop!” cried Lois hoarsely, and at that instant, as the old hag stooped over the stricken woman and jerked her out of view, the knees of Lois Reddle gave beneath her and she fell to the floor in a swoon. Chapter Twenty-five Lois came to consciousness almost at once, as she thought, though she had been lying on the floor for half an hour before she moved, and, sick and shaking, dragged herself with difficulty to the bed. She felt ill and shaken and sat with her hands before her eyes trying to shut out that hideous scene. The raised whip---- She lay down on the bed, her face in the crook of her arm, trying to reconstruct from the confusion of her mind a sane and logical explanation, and always her thoughts flew back to Michael Dorn, with his saturnine face and his soul-searching eyes. Why he should weave in and out of her troubled thoughts, she could not fathom, except that she came back to that sure foundation of faith. Who was this other prisoner? What had the countess to do with this experience of hers? Was it true, as Michael Dorn had hinted, that the falling balcony and the motor-car incident were not accidents, but deliberate attempts to kill her? When the woman brought her supper, Lois was outwardly calm, recognising the futility of questioning her. When she came up to clear away, she brought a small oil lamp and lit it. She pulled down the two ragged blinds before she left, and at the door paused for her good-night message. “If you want anything, stamp on the floor,” she said. “If you take my tip you won’t send for the doctor, because he’s raving drunk; and don’t take any notice of that woman downstairs, she’s crazy!” It was not a very cheering farewell. One thing was certain, she was free from interruption for the rest of the night; and she decided to put into operation the plan she had formed.