Lionel at last got up.

"Congratulations!" he said courteously. "You have beaten me, I confess.
I can not give you in charge, unfortunately, and I do not see that any
good purpose would be served by keeping you here all night. If I did, I
would do so without hesitation. But I warn you that I shall ask Miss
Arkwright to-morrow for an explanation of your presence."

"I hope she will give you one," said Mizzi, rising with twinkling eyes.
"Thank you, Mr. Mortimer. I hardly expected you to be generous, but I
felt sure you would be sensible."

He laughed good-humoredly and walked over to the door, she following
with a demure air that was something of a trial to Saint Anthony. He
fitted the key, turned it, and opened the door with a little bow. The
bow was never perfectly finished, for framed in the doorway he beheld
the figures of his hostess and Mrs. Wetherby. They had evidently been
on the point of knocking, for Miss Arkwright's right hand was raised in
the air: the projected knock had assumed the similitude of a
blessing--or a curse.

Mizzi fell back in unaffected horror. Lionel, the sport of fortune, was
past surprise. He only stood and waited.

"_Mizzi!_" said Miss Arkwright--one can not think of her as Winifred in
such a deplorable situation: she radiated outraged respectability.
"_Mizzi!_"

The unhappy innocent was almost incapable of speech. Before Miss
Arkwright's cutting dissyllables and Miss Wetherby's damnatory mien she
was crushed. Lionel felt really sorry for her. "It is not my fault,
madame," she mumbled. "Believe me, it is not my fault! This gentleman
trepanned me. I am innocent. Is it not so, Mr. Mortimer?"

"She speaks the truth," said Lionel calmly. "I kidnaped her and locked
her in. I suppose that sounds unlikely, but it is a fact: I alone am to
blame. Does one apologize for this sort of thing? If so, I am very
sorry, but----"

Miss Arkwright silenced him with a gesture. Her looks were serpents,
her attitude was a virgin horror of man. She pointed imperiously to the
corridor. "Go!" she hissed (yes--yes: "hissed" is melodrama, but she
_did_ hiss), and Mizzi scuttled whimpering into the darkness. For a
moment there was silence, but when the luckless girl had disappeared she
turned again to Lionel. "Now, sir, be good enough to give me your key."

"My _key_!" he repeated in amazement. "Why?"

"Because I mean to lock you in for the night," she said sternly.
"Without that degrading precaution we can