emed to come, not from beyond
the walls, but from somewhere close at hand--from----

Rohscheimer turned, stealthily, in his chair. The cigarette dropped from
between his nerveless fingers, and lay smouldering upon the Persian
carpet.

His bulging eyes grew more and more prominent, and his adipose jaw
dropped. And he sat, quivering fatly, his gaze upon the doors of the big
wardrobe which occupied the space between the windows. Distinctly he
remembered that these doors had been closed. But now they were open.

Palsied with fear of what might be within, he sat, watched, and grew
pale.

The doors were opening slowly!

No move he made toward defence. He was a man inert from panic.

Something gleamed out of the dark gap--a revolver barrel. Two fingers
pushed a card into view. Upon it, in red letters, were the words:

_"Do not move!"_

The warning was, at once, needless and disregarded. Rohscheimer shook
the chair with his tremblings.

A smaller card was tossed across on to the table.

The fat hand which the financier extended toward the card shook
grotesquely; the diamonds which adorned it sparkled and twinkled
starrily. Before his eyes a red mist seemed to dance; but, through it,
Rohscheimer made out the following:

"There is a cheque-book in your coat pocket, and your coat hangs beside
me in the wardrobe. I will throw the book across to you. You will make
out a cheque for L100,000, payable to the editor of the _Gleaner_, and
also write a note explaining that this is your contribution towards the
fund for the founding, by patriotic Britons, of a suitable air fleet."

Rohscheimer, out of the corner of his eye, was watching the gleaming
barrel, which pointed straightly at his head. From the dark gap between
the wardrobe doors sped a second projectile, and fell before him on the
table.

It was his cheque-book. Mechanically he opened it. Within was stuck
another card. Upon it, in the same evidently disguised handwriting,
appeared:

"A fountain pen lies on the table before you. Do not hesitate to follow
instructions--or I shall shoot you. All arrangements are made for my
escape. Throw the cheque and the note behind you and do not dare to look
around again until you have my permission. If you do so once, I may only
warn you; if you do so twice, I shall kill you."

Perfect silence ruled. Even the traffic in Park Lane outside seemed
momentarily to have ceased. From the wardrobe behind Julius Rohscheimer
came no s