unt of
time, but after running for some time through the open country in
the gray light of dawn, they reached the edge of those long
tentacles of bricks and mortar which London thrusts out from her
on every side. The outer fringes of the metropolis were still
sleeping as the great car roared by. The snug "High Streets,"
the red brick "Parades" and "Broadways," with their lines of
houses with blinds drawn, seemed to have their eyes shut, so
blank, so somnolent was their aspect.

With their lamps alight, the first trams were gliding out to
begin the new day, as the big car swiftly traversed the eastern
suburbs of London. To Barbara, who had had her home at Seven
Kings, there was something familiar about the streets as they
flickered by; but her powers of observation were dulled, so great
was the sense of helplessness that weighed her down.

High-booted scavengers with curious snake-like lengths of hose on
little trolleys were sluicing the asphalt as the limousine
snorted past the Mansion House into Poultney and Cheapside. The
light was growing clearer now; the tube stations were open and
from time to time a motor-bus whizzed by.

Barbara stirred restlessly and Mrs. Malplaquet's grip on her
wrist tightened.

"Where are you taking me?" the girl said.

Mrs. Malplaquet spoke a single word.

"Bellward!" she said in a gentle voice; but it was a voice of
command.

Bellward leaned forward.

"Look at me, Miss Mackwayte!" he said.

There was a curious insistence in his voice that made Barbara
obey. She struggled for a moment against the impulse to do his
bidding; for some agency within her told her to resist the
summons. But an irresistible force seemed to draw her eyes to
his. Bellward did not move. He simply leaned forward a little,
his hands on his knees, and looked at her. Barbara could not see
his eyes, for the light in the car was still dim, but inch by
inch they captured hers.

She looked at the black outline of his head and instantly was
conscious of a wave of magnetic power that transmitted itself
from his will to hers. She would have cried out, have struggled,
have sought to break away; but that invisible dance held her as
in a vice. A little gasp broke from her lips; but that was all.

"So!" said Bellward with the little sigh of a man who has just
accomplished some bodily effort, "so! you will keep quiet now and
do as I tell you. You understand?"

No reply came from the girl. She had thrust her head fo