The women were drab, their faces were hard and starved, while the men were brutal, their shaven heads intensifying the criminal cast of their faces. Horrified by all she saw, nevertheless Elizabeth could not withdraw from the window. It was all so new to her who had always lived on the broad, clean plains, who had seen only village life, except for glimpses of the world, now and again, from hotel windows. A deep thinker and a student of physiognomy, she believed she would have been deeply interested had she been in more happy circumstances. As it was, studying the neighbourhood as far as the narrow compass of the window would permit, the sight did not help her to minimize her plight; rather it assumed, every second, an uglier garb, and she laughed mirthlessly. Supposing she were rescued, say, by any of the residents of the neighbouring buildings? It seemed a moot point as to whether she would be any better off, for her one thought then was whether any one face which she saw from the window was more evil than the next. A minute later and, with a feeling of uncontrollable horror, she had to reverse her theory. There swung into her vision a tall man--like most tall men, stooping slightly. He was dressed in filthy clothes, a cap was crammed over his head and eyes, a scarf wound round his neck. He walked as did Gonnard, with a shuffling, uncouth gait. At first she saw nothing of his face, but he stopped by the wall to light a cigarette, and apparently his cap must have caught on something sharp. Puffing the cigarette he stepped forward on his walk, and the hat came off his head. For a brief second he gazed upward in surprise: it was then that Elizabeth realized that of all the vile, brutal faces which she had seen in the last half-hour there was not one to be compared with that upon which she now gazed. Its monstrous ugliness hurt her, the blood-red scars which deformed his head and face sickened her, and her lips trembled. Supposing that it were he, not Gonnard, who held her prisoner.... She saw him snatch his cap from the wall. His lips moved, and she had no doubt that he cursed blasphemously. He would have crammed his hat back on his head when suddenly it seemed that her fixed gaze was magnetically riveting his attention. He looked upward, his eyes travelled toward her window. With a shudder she jerked her head backward that he should not see her ... and the White Knight, wondering what impulse had made him glance upward, continued his way toward the rendezvous he had made with Arnold when they had parted at the station. _CHAPTER XIII_ That night the sun had scarcely buried itself beneath the rim of the horizon when Gunzi entered a low-class bar in a quarter scarcely a stone's-throw from where Elizabeth was imprisoned.