ude which to others might have spelt peace, but which, to Robert
Cairn, spelled menace. That Ferrara's device was aimed at his freedom,
that his design was intended to lead to the detention of his enemy
whilst he directed his activities in other directions, seemed
plausible, if inadequate. The carefully planned incident at the Museum
whereby the constable had become possessed of Cairn's card; the
distinct possibility that a detective might knock upon his door at any
moment--with the inevitable result of his detention pending
inquiries--formed a chain which had seemed complete, save that Antony
Ferrara, was the schemer. For another to have compassed so much, would
have been a notable victory; for Ferrara, such a victory would be
trivial.

What then, did it mean? His father had told him, and the uncanny
events of the evening stood evidence of Dr. Cairn's wisdom. The
mysterious and evil force which Antony Ferrara controlled was being
focussed upon him!

Slight sounds from time to time disturbed the silence and to these he
listened attentively. He longed for the arrival of his father--for the
strong, calm counsel of the one man in England fitted to cope with the
Hell Thing which had uprisen in their midst. That he had already been
subjected to some kind of hypnotic influence, he was unable to doubt;
and having once been subjected to this influence, he might at any
moment (it Was a terrible reflection) fall a victim to it again.

Cairn directed all the energies of his mind to resistance; ill-defined
reflection must at all costs be avoided, for the brain vaguely
employed he knew to be more susceptible to attack than that directed
in a well-ordered channel.

Clocks were chiming the hour--he did not know what hour, nor did he
seek to learn. He felt that he was at rapier play with a skilled
antagonist, and that to glance aside, however momentarily, was to lay
himself open to a fatal thrust.

He had not moved from the table, so that only the reading lamp upon it
was lighted, and much of the room lay in half shadow. The silken cord,
coiled snake-like, was close to his left hand; the revolver was close
to his right. The muffled roar of traffic--diminished, since the hour
grew late--reached his ears as he sat. But nothing disturbed the
stillness of the court, and nothing disturbed the stillness of the
room.

The notes which he had made in the afternoon at the Museum, were still
spread open before him, and he suddenly closed