s own."

Milsom grunted.

"What are we going to do with him?"

"Gas him," said van Heerden, "he is certain to have a gun."

Milsom nodded.

"Wait until the men have gone. I let them go at three--a few at a time,
and it wants half an hour to that. He can wait. He's safe where he is.
Why didn't Hilda tell me? I never even saw her."

"She went straight up from the old passage--through the men's door--she
didn't trust you probably."

Milsom smiled wryly. Though he controlled these works and knew half the
doctor's secrets, he suspected that the quantity of van Heerden's trust
was not greatly in excess of his girl's.

"We'll wait," he said again, "there's no hurry and, anyway, I want to
see you about old man Heyler."

"Von Heyler? I thought you were rid of him?" said van Heerden in
surprise, "that is the old fool that Beale has been after. He has been
trying to suck him dry, and has had two interviews with him. I told you
to send him to Deans Folly. Bridgers would have taken care of him."

"Bridgers can look after nothing," said Milsom.

His eyes roved along the benches and stopped at a worker at the farther
end of the room.

"He's quiet to-night," he said, "that fellow is too full of himself for
my liking. Earlier in the evening before I arrived he pulled a gun on
Schultz. He's too full of gunplay that fellow--excuse the idiom, but I
was in the same tailor's shop at Portland Gaol as Ned Garrand, the
Yankee bank-smasher."

Van Heerden made a gesture of impatience.

"About old Heyler," Milsom went on, "I know you think he's dangerous,
so I've kept him here. There's a room where he can sleep, and he can
take all the exercise he wants at night. But the old fool is
restless--he's been asking me what is the object of his work."

"He's difficult. Twice he has nearly betrayed me. As I told you in the
car, I gave him some experimental work to do and he brought the result
to me--that was the sample which fell into Beale's hands."

"Mr. Beale is certainly a danger," said Milsom thoughtfully.

Van Heerden made a move toward the laboratory, but Milsom's big hand
detained him.

"One minute, van Heerden," he said, "whilst you're here you'd better
decide--when do we start dismantling? I've got to find some excuse to
send these fellows away."

Van Heerden thought.

"In two days," he said, "that will give you time to clear. You can send
the men--well, send them to Scotland, some out-of-the-way place where
news doesn