thing; it was getting dark now. Yet surely she had been
here more than, say, half an hour? She thought of her wrist-watch. It
had stopped, the hands pointing to a quarter to one. That meant it had
run down, for she had wound it at a quarter to one--was it yesterday?
How could she tell? She caught herself yawning heavily, overcome with
fatigue and drowsiness. The one thing she instinctively desired with
her whole being was to lie down again and drift off to sleep.

"Good God, I can't do that!" she muttered, shaking herself. "I've got
to think, to think hard. I've got to find a way out of this!"

There was no doubt in her mind as to why she was here. She was
dangerous to the doctor; she possessed information which would ruin
him. He had overheard her conversation on the telephone; more than
that he had probably received and opened the chemist's report when it
came to the villa. Without doubt he had had something of this sort in
mind when he came and suggested driving her to her pension. He hadn't
meant to let her out of his sight; he had even inquired about what
friends she had to ascertain whether there was much danger of her being
traced. He had meant to get her alone in his car, then stupefy her in
some way and bring her here. Her telephoning to the chemist had
precipitated matters, made him take a desperate chance and act quickly.
At least that was how she construed things. How he had managed to get
her out and into his car was a mystery. She had just sent that message
to Roger, she recalled. Two minutes, one minute's delay, and the bold
plan would have miscarried. Would they miss her at the villa--Miss
Clifford or Roger? With a sinking heart she knew they were not likely
to for some days. She had said good-bye to the former. Roger indeed
might think it a little odd, her sending for him and then going away,
but he would hardly imagine anything seriously wrong. No, there was no
chance at all of her being sought for, at any rate not here. No one
would ever think of looking here.

How had she lost consciousness so completely, so instantaneously? Ah,
of course! That stab in her arm, it had been the wound of a hypodermic
needle, that weapon she now so closely associated with the doctor. Her
arm felt sore to the touch, a spot near the shoulder. She had been
doped, kept stupefied--she had no idea for how long. What a risk the
man had taken! That proved conclusively how much he feared her. She