the mercy of some venomous power that could crush what it
would remorselessly and at will in its might.

The place was a veritable maze, a lair of hellish cleverness. He had
no illusions now, he laboured under no false estimate of either the
ingenuity or the resources of this inhuman nest of vultures to whom
murder was no more than a matter of detail. And it was against these men
that henceforth he was to match his wits! There could be no truce, no
armistice. It was their lives, or hers, or his! Well, he was alive now,
the first round was over, and so far he had won. His brows furrowed
suddenly. Had he? He was not so sure, after all. He was conscious of a
disquieting, premonitory intuition that, in some way which he could not
explain, the honours were not entirely his.

He was apparently--the "apparently" was a mental reservation--quite
alone in the room. He got up from the couch and walked shakily across
the floor to the desk. A revolver lay invitingly upon the blotting pad.
It was his own, the one they had taken from him after the accident.
Jimmie Dale picked it up, examined it--and smiled a little sarcastically
at himself for his trouble. It was unloaded, of course. He was twirling
it in his hand, as a man, masked as every one in the house was masked,
and carrying a neatly folded suit over his arm, entered from the
corridor.

"The car is ready as soon as you are dressed," announced the other
briefly. He laid the clothes upon the couch--and settled himself
significantly in a chair.

Jimmie Dale hesitated. Then, with a shrug of his shoulders, recrossed
the room, and began to remove his torn garments. What was the use! They
would certainly have their own way in the end. It wasn't worth another
fight, and there was nothing to be gained by a refusal except to offer a
sop to his own exasperation.

He dressed quickly, in what proved to be an exceedingly well-fitting
suit; and finally turned tentatively to the man in the chair.

The other stood up, and produced a heavy black silk scarf.

"If you have no objections," he said curtly, "I'll tie this over your
eyes."

Again Jimmie Dale shrugged his shoulders.

"I am glad enough to get out on any conditions," he answered
caustically.

"'Fortunate' would be the better word," rejoined the other
meaningly--and, deftly knotting the scarf, led Jimmie Dale blindfolded
from the room.

CHAPTER V

ON GUARD

Was he in the city? In a suburban town? On a country road?