They were on the top floor of the building, and there was a large well staircase with a sheer drop of sixty feet straight down to the hall below. Mr. X----, whose eyes were staring wildly and whose every feature was working convulsively, dropped his hat and umbrella at sight of Mr. Pearse, and without a word seized him by the collar of his coat and the left arm and forced him towards the banisters. So sudden was the onslaught that the young man had no time even to call for assistance, but he nevertheless realized his peril and struggled desperately in the grip of the madman. Mr. Pearse was not only young but slight of build for his age, and despite his efforts he was quite powerless in the hands of X----, who, with the almost supernatural strength of a maniac, lifted him, apparently without effort, clean over the banisters, and held him suspended in mid-air over the abyss, with nothing but sixty feet of air between him and the stone floor below. [Illustration: "HE HISSED IN A COLD, HARD VOICE, 'I ALWAYS REPAY! I AM GOING TO DROP YOU, ALFRED; AREN'T YOU AFRAID?'"] Even in this awful extremity the one idea uppermost in the artist's mind was as to his best means of escape. Could he clutch hold of anything before the crash came? Could he swing himself on to the next landing or cling to his captor? X----, however, was too cunning in his methods to allow of any such manœuvres, and Mr. Pearse soon realized that he was absolutely and entirely at the mercy of a raving lunatic, and that his life depended, small though the chance was, on his own coolness and resource. At that critical moment, curiously enough, the young man's chief concern was for the welfare of a friend of his, also studying wood-engraving, who had followed him from the office, and who, with bulging eyes, open mouth, and face ghastly green with fright, was a horrified witness of the proceedings, pressing back against the panelled wall as if he wished he might vanish through it. Mr. Pearse devoutly hoped the young fellow would remain quiet, for the slightest movement, he felt convinced, would hasten his own end. Fortunately, however, he was too petrified by fear to be capable of action or speech. Thoughts of his mother and her anguish at his tragic death next took possession of Mr. Pearse's mind, but his desire to live and the necessity for concentrating his thoughts on his terrible plight were suddenly brought back to him by Mr. X----, who hissed in a cold, hard voice, "I always repay! I am going to drop you, Alfred; aren't you afraid?" Mr. Pearse was firmly convinced that his last hour had come, but summoning all his fortitude and exerting his will-power to the utmost he replied without the slightest hesitation, "No; for I know you will put me back."