and stealing around to his hip
pocket, "but in the meantime, what is to prevent--"

The hip pocket was empty. Peter's sentence ended abruptly. Bernadine
mocked him.

"To prevent your shooting me in cold blood, I suppose," he remarked.
"Nothing except that my servants are too clever. No one save myself is
allowed to remain under this roof with arms in their possession.
Your pocket was probably picked before you had been in the place five
minutes. No, my dear Baron, let me assure you that escape will not be so
easy! You were always just a little inclined to be led away by the fair
sex. The best men in the world, you know, have shared that failing, and
the Baroness, alone and unprotected, had her attractions, eh?"

Then something happened to Peter which had happened to him barely a
dozen times in his life. He lost his temper and lost it rather badly.
Without an instant's hesitation, he caught up the decanter which stood
by his side and flung it in his host's face. Bernadine only partly
avoided it by thrusting out his arms. The neck caught his forehead and
the blood came streaming over his tie and collar. Peter had followed the
decanter with a sudden spring. His fingers were upon Bernadine's throat
and he thrust his head back. Sogrange sprang to the door to lock it, but
he was too late. The room seemed full of men-servants. Peter was dragged
away, still struggling fiercely.

"Tie them up!" Bernadine gasped, swaying in his chair. "Tie them up, do
you hear? Carl, give me brandy."

He swallowed half a wineglassful of the raw spirit. His eyes were red
with fury.

"Take them to the gun room," he ordered, "three of you to each of them,
mind. I'll shoot the man who lets either escape."

But Peter and Sogrange were both of them too wise to expend any more
of their strength in a useless struggle. They suffered themselves to be
conducted without resistance across the white stone hall, down a long
passage, and into a room at the end, the window and fireplace of
which were both blocked up. The floor was of red flags and the walls
whitewashed. The only furniture was a couple of kitchen chairs and a
long table. The door was of stout oak and fitted with a double lock. The
sole outlet, so far as they could see, was a small round hole at the top
of the roof. The door was locked behind them. They were alone.

"The odd trick to Bernadine!" Peter exclaimed hoarsely, wiping a spot
of blood from his forehead. "My dear Marquis, I scarcel