ts inevitable success.
What buildings and homes were to be bombed, the Cardew house first among
them; what leading citizens were to be held as hostages, with all that
that implied; and again the Cardews headed the list.

When Doctor Smalley came he or the Russian were always present,
solicitous and attentive. She got out of her bed one day, and dragging
her splinted leg got to her desk, in the hope of writing a note and
finding some opportunity of giving it to the doctor. Only to discover
that they had taken away her pen, pencils and paper.

She had been found there by Olga, but the girl had made no comment. Olga
had helped her back into bed without a word, but from that time on had
spent most of her day on the upper floor. Not until Doyle came in would
she go downstairs to prepare his food.

Elinor lay in her bed and listened to her father coming up the stairs.
She knew, before he reached the top, that Doyle would never let her be
taken away. He would kill her first. He might kill Anthony Cardew. She
had a sickening sense of tragedy coming up the staircase, tragedy which
took the form of her father's familiar deliberate step. Perhaps had she
known of the chauffeur's presence she might have chanced it, for every
fiber of her tired body was crying for release. But she saw only her
father, alone in that house with Doyle and the smoldering Russian.

The key turned in the lock.

Anthony Cardew stood in the doorway, looking at her. With her long hair
in braids, she seemed young, almost girlish. She looked like the little
girl who had gone to dancing school in short white frocks and long black
silk stockings, so many years ago.

"I've just learned about it, Elinor," he said. He moved to the bed and
stood beside it, looking down, but he did not touch her. "Are you able
to be taken away from here?"

She knew that Doyle was outside, listening, and she hardened her heart
for the part she had to play. It was difficult; she was so infinitely
moved by her father's coming, and in the dim light he, too, looked like
himself of years ago.

"Taken away? Where?" she asked.

"You don't want to stay here, do you?" he demanded bluntly.

"This is my home, father."

"Good God, home! Do you mean to tell me that, with all you must know
about this man, you still want to stay with him?"

"I have no other home."

"I am offering you one."

Old Anthony was bewildered and angry. Elinor put out a hand to touch
him, but he drew back.