r
stretchers. They're crude, Kronberg, and homemade, but in time they'll
do the work."

Kronberg's face grew colorless as death itself as his mind leaped to
the torture of the day before. A clamp for every finger tip, a metal
bar between--the hell-conceived device invented by his jailer forced
the fingers wide apart and held them there as in vise until a stiffness
bound the aching cords, then a pain which crept snakelike to the
elbow--and the shoulder. Then when the tortured nerves fell wildly to
telegraphing spasmodic jerkings of distress from head to toe, the
shrugging devil with the flute would talk vividly of roaring wood fires
and the comforts awaiting the penitent below. Yesterday Kronberg had
fainted. To-day--

Carl presently took the singular metal contrivance from his pocket,
deftly clamped the fingers of his victim and sat down to wait,
rummaging for his flute.

The tension snapped.

Choking, Kronberg fell forward at his jailer's feet, his eyes imploring.

"Mercy," he whispered. "I--I can not bear it."

"Then you will answer what I ask?"

"Yes."

Carl unsnapped the infernal finger-stretcher and dropped it in his
pocket.

"Come," said he not unkindly and led his weak and staggering prisoner
to a room in the west wing where a log fire was blazing brightly in the
fireplace.

With a moan Kronberg broke desperately away from his grasp and flung
himself violently upon his knees by the fire, stretching his arms out
pitifully to the blaze and chattering and moaning like a thing
demented. Carl walked away to the window.

Presently the man by the fire crept humbly to a chair, a broken
creature in the clutch of fever, eyes and skin unnaturally bright.

"Here," said Carl, pouring him some brandy from a decanter on the
table. "Sit quietly for a while and close your eyes. Are you better
now?" he asked a little later.

"Yes," said Kronberg faintly.

"What is your real name?"

"Themar."

"When you took service with my aunt in the spring, you were looking for
a certain paper?"

"Yes."

"Did you find it during your ten days in the town-house?"

"No."

"How did you discover its whereabouts?"

"One night I watched you replace it in a secret drawer in your room.
Before I could obtain it, the house was closed for the summer and I was
dismissed. I had succeeded, however, in getting an impression of the
desk lock."

"You went back later?"

"Yes. It was a summer day--very hot. The front d