on what you want to know," she said.

"I really want to find a private prison of some sort," he said. "The
sort of place where a nice-looking young lady like you might be kept in
against her will by nasty, ill-disposed people."

"There is only one house of that kind in the town, and that is out of
it, as an Irishman might say."

"And where is it?"

"It's called Gateway House--about a mile along the road from the depot."

Steingall, inclined at first to doubt the expediency of gossip with the
girl, now pricked up his ears.

"Who lives in Gateway House?" he asked.

"No one that I know of at the moment," she answered. "It used to belong
to a mad doctor. I don't mean a doctor who was mad, but----"

"No matter about his sanity. Is he dead?"

"No, in prison. There was a trial two years ago."

"Oh! I remember the affair. A patient was beaten to death. So the house
is empty?"

"It is, unless some one has rented it recently. I was taken through the
place months ago. The rooms are all right, and it has beautiful
grounds, but the windows frightened me. They were closely barred with
iron, and the doors were covered with locks and chains. There were some
old beds there, too, with straps on them. Oh, I quite shivered!"

"After we have eaten will you let us drive you in that direction in my
car?" said Carshaw.

She simpered and blushed slightly. "I've an appointment with a friend,"
she admitted, wondering whether the swain would protest too strongly if
she accepted the invitation.

"Bring him also," said Carshaw. "I assume it's a 'he.'"

"Oh, that'll be all right!" she cried.

So in the deepening gloom the automobile flared with fierce eyes along
the quiet road to Gateway House, and in its seat of honor sat the hotel
maid and her young man.

"That is the place," she said, after the, to her, all too brief run.

"Is this the only entrance?" demanded the chief, as he stepped out to
try the gate.

"Yes. The high wall runs right round the property. It's quite a big
place."

"Locked!" he announced. "Probably empty, too."

He tried squinting through the keyhole to catch a gleam of interior
light.

"No use in doin' that," announced the young man. "The house stands way
back, an' is hidden by trees."

"I mean having a look at it, wall or no wall," insisted Carshaw.

"But the gate is spiked and the wall covered with broken glass," said
the girl.

"Such obstacles can be surmounted by ladders and folded tarpaulins,