his chin and surveying them with the air of master of the
situation, lost countenance when he saw the rope. Stonor cut off an end
of it.

"What's that for?" demanded Imbrie.

"Turn round and put your hands behind you," said the policeman.

Imbrie defiantly folded his arms.

Stonor smiled. "If you resist my orders," he said softly, "there is no
need for me to hold my hand.--Put your hands behind you!" he suddenly
rasped.

Imbrie thought better to obey. Stonor bound his wrists firmly together.
He then led Imbrie a hundred yards from their camp, and, making him sit
in the grass, tied his ankles and invited him to meditate.

"I'll get square with you for this, old man!" snarled Imbrie. "You had
no right to tie me up!"

"I didn't like the style of your conversation," said Stonor coolly.

"You're damn right, you didn't! You snivelling preacher! You snooper
after other men's wives! Oh, I've got you where I want you now! Any
charge you bring against me will look foolish when I tell them----"

"Tell them what?"

"Tell them you're after her!"

Stonor walked away and left the man.

Clare still stood in the same place like a carven woman. She waited for
him with wide, harassed eyes. As he came to her she said simply:

"This is worse than I expected."

"The man is not right in his head!" said Stonor. "There is something
queer. Don't pay any attention to him. Don't think of him."

"But I must think of him; I can't escape it. What do you mean by not
right?"

"A screw loose somewhere. What they call a case of double personality,
perhaps. It is the only way to reconcile what you told me about him and
what we see."

Clare's glance was turned inward in the endeavour to solve the riddle of
her own blind spot. She said slowly: "I have known him somewhere; I am
sure of that. But he is strange to me. He makes my blood run cold. I
cannot explain it."

"Do not brood on it," urged Stonor.

She transferred her thoughts to Stonor. "You look utterly worn out. Will
you sleep now?"

"Yes. We won't leave here until morning. My horse must have a good
rest."

"You'd wait for him, but not for yourself!"

"Tole ought to be along in the morning to help pack, and to guard the
prisoner."

Before Stonor had a chance to lie down, Imbrie called him. There was a
propitiatory note in his voice.

The trooper went to him. "What do you want?" he asked sternly.

"Say, I'm sorry I riled you, Sergeant," said Imbrie with a grin. "I was