He twisted up the note, and came slowly across the room to where I crouched waiting. While he talked to me, in that hard deadly level voice of his, he launched a kick at me every now and then to punctuate what he said. "You thought I was safely out of the way."--A kick.--"You meant to play me false, and send this boy flying, with love for company--eh?"--Another kick.--"You dog!--do you think you're likely to win in such a game as this, when you're fighting against me?"--Another kick more savage than the others.--"Look at him, Dawkins; see how brave he is now!" If I could have got my hands free, I know that I should have made a fight for it, and that in my despair I might have killed or maimed one or other of the men. But I was too tightly bound to be able to move; Dawkins had most skilfully knotted a long bath towel about my elbows, so that my shoulders ached with the strain upon them. I struggled to my feet, and leant against the wall, glancing from one man to the other, and wondering what they meant to do. "I set you to watch, my dear Tinman," said Murray Olivant between his teeth; "and the better to be sure of you, I had you watched also. You've interested yourself a little too much in regard to this young lady, who, at the present moment I expect, is waiting in the cold and the darkness for you. That's a pleasant thought, isn't it? There they stand--the pair of them; the girl, impatient to hear your footstep; the boy, shivering at the edge of the wood, waiting for you both. Think of that, Tinman; they so near together, and never by any chance to meet." I stood there, with the sweat dropping off me, straining vainly at my bonds, and striving to work the gag loose with my teeth. Olivant laughed at my struggles; flicked the note at me, and went on derisively-- "Our friend Dawkins here gave me the tip this morning, and I decided that it might be a good idea to make you believe that you'd got the day and the night to yourself. I didn't get into the train, and my luggage is still at the station. I came back, after a decent interval, and waited for you, Tinman. Now the only thing to be decided--and we have just ten minutes in which to decide it, unless we are to keep the lady waiting in the cold--is what to do in regard to these two people, who stand so far apart, longing for you to bring them together. I can't remove your gag, Tinman, or you might shout; but I should like to know what you would do if the choice rested with you." I stood there, enduring a torture greater than any I had endured yet. I seemed to see Arnold Millard standing at the edge of the wood, waiting and longing and hoping; saw the girl watching the house in which I was held prisoner, and miserably blaming me in her heart for having turned traitor. The two men in the room with me must have guessed what was passing in my mind; they were whispering together, and shaking with laughter.