“Take off your shoes,” he growled in Mirabelle’s ear, and she obeyed. Whatever happened, he must not lose touch of her, or give her an opportunity of escape. Still grasping her arm with one hand and his long Mauser pistol in the other, he went softly up the steps, got into the hall and listened, locating the intruder instantly. It all happened so quickly that Mirabelle could remember nothing except the desperate lunge she made to knock up the pistol that had covered the spine of Leon Gonsalez. She stood dumbly by, watching this horrible old man fasten the heavy door, and obediently preceded him from room to room. She saw the long cases in the hot room and shrank back. And then began a complete tour of the house. There were still shutters to be fastened, peep-holes to be opened up. He screwed up the shutters of the servants’ room, and then, with a hammer, broke the thumb-piece short. “You will stay here,” he said. “I do not know what they will do. Perhaps they will shoot. I also am a shooter!” Not satisfied with the lock that fastened her door, he went into his workshop, found a staple, hook and padlock, and spent the greater part of an hour fixing this additional security. At last he had finished, and could put the situation in front of four very interested men. He unlocked the door of the concrete annexe and called the crestfallen gunmen forth, and in a very few words explained the situation and their danger. “For every one of you the English police hold warrants,” he said. “I do not bluff, I know. This afternoon I was visited by the police. I tell you I do not bluff you—me they cannot touch, because they know nothing, can prove nothing. At most I shall go to prison for a few years, but with you it is different.” “Are they waiting outside?” asked one suspiciously. “Because, if they are, we’d better move quick.” “You do not move, quick or slow,” said Oberzohn. “To go out from here means certain imprisonment for you all. To stay, if you follow my plan, means that every one of you may go free and with money.” “What’s the idea?” asked Cuccini. “Are you going to fight them?” “Sure I am going to fight them,” nodded Oberzohn. “That is my scheme. I have the young miss upstairs; they will not wish to do her any harm. I intend to defend this house.” “Do you mean you’re going to hold it?” asked one of the staggered men. “I will hold it until they are tired, and make terms.” Cuccini was biting his nails nervously. “Might as well be hung for a sheep as a lamb, boss,” he growled. “I’ve got an idea you’ve roped us into this.”