this seem a reasonable way to get it?" Jacob enquired, looking
down at the marks on his wrists.

"I guess it'll do the trick," was the gruff rejoinder.

"Well, get on with the programme, then," Jacob directed.

"We're going to let you off cheap," Mason said. "There's your cheque
book on the table there, and a fountain pen by the side. If you are
willing to sign an open cheque for five thousand pounds, payable to
Miss Sybil Bultiwell, you can dine at home to-night."

"Why to Miss Bultiwell?"

"Because we think it well to have Miss Bultiwell formally associated
with the transaction," Mason explained, with a crafty smile. "Miss
Bultiwell will endorse the cheque and receive her share of
the--er--proceeds."

Jacob turned a little in his chair, so as to face Sybil. She met his
gaze defiantly.

"It was scarcely necessary to resort to such means as these, Miss
Bultiwell, if you were in need of five thousand pounds, or any part of
it," he said quietly.

"Perhaps not," she retorted, "but can't you see the difference? I
wouldn't take a penny of your money from you as a gift, but I haven't
the least compunction in taking my share of what you will have to pay
for your freedom."

"I see," Jacob murmured. "This requires consideration."

Mason glanced at his watch.

"It is now," he said, "a quarter past three. The banks close at four.
If you want to avoid spending the night here, you'll sign that cheque
right away."

"What happens then?" Jacob enquired.

"Miss Bultiwell will cash it at the bank, will bring the proceeds
here, and in a couple of hours' time you will be able to leave."

"And what do you suppose my next proceeding will be?" Jacob asked.

"In an ordinary way you would go straight to Scotland Yard, I
suppose," Mason replied. "As a matter of fact, however, we are rather
gambling upon the idea that, with Miss Bultiwell's name on the cheque,
and taking into consideration the fact that she is going to cash it in
person, you may prefer to treat the matter as a little duel in wits in
which you have been worsted, and accept the consequences like a
sportsman."

"I see," Jacob murmured. "But supposing, even at the risk of involving
Miss Bultiwell, I go to Scotland Yard?"

"Then the only person whom Scotland Yard could possibly lay their
hands on would be the young lady herself," Mason pointed out.
"Hartwell and I years ago learnt the secret of disappearing from
London, and I can promise you that no Scotland Yar