The prisoner, or captive, whatever he might be called, was brought in. In the cab he had been bound securely round the legs and wrists, but not painfully. He was assisted to a chair by the masked Somoza, where he sat facing his judges. His face was a little pale, due to the effects of the chloroform, but his demeanour was firm. He felt himself in a very tight corner, but he had been assured so often by Moreno that he need never despair. A good angel, in the shape of Moreno himself, was watching over him. He cast his glance rapidly over the masked men confronting him. Where was the black-browed young journalist whom he had known in old days? Yes, there on the right, nearest to the door. Had that position been chosen by accident or design? He recognised at once the short, squat figure. Through the holes of the mask, he could see the gleam of those dark eyes. His demeanour would be more indomitable than ever. Contraras opened the proceedings in his most judicial manner. "Mr Rossett, you will recognise that you are now at the mercy of the brotherhood, against whom for some time you have directed your activities." "Quite true," replied Guy Rossett in his curtest manner. Whatever fate was in store for him, he was not going to knuckle under to this crew of bloodthirsty ruffians. Contraras continued in his calm, imperturbable manner. "I cannot say that, up to the present, you have done us very much harm, but still you are a menace to our schemes, our aspirations." "I am pleased to hear that I am of sufficient importance to justify this mock tribunal." Rossett waved his hand contemptuously at the masked men sitting in judgment on him. The eyes of Contraras flashed through his mask. He took his position very seriously. "Mr Rossett, let me advise you, in your own interests, not to carry matters with too high a hand. Kindly recognise your position. If you were seated in the Calle Fernando el Santo, I admit you would be top dog. At the present moment the brotherhood, here in this obscure house, in this obscure quarter of the city of Madrid, is in that enviable situation." A bitter retort was on Rossett's lips, but he thought he perceived an almost imperceptible gesture of warning from the short, squat figure in the corner near the door. He temporised. "The fortunes of war, I admit, are with you, sir. I am sorry I have not the advantage of knowing whom I have the honour to address." Contraras was, at heart, a gentleman. He felt the sting of the rebuke. "Mr Rossett, if you come into line with us to-night, I may deal with you quite frankly. Before we separate, you may know as much about me as I do about you." There was an obvious movement on the part of Zorrilta and Alvedero. They evidently thought their chief was going too far. Contraras hushed the incipient rebellion with an authoritative wave of his hand.