il in its
appeal. With only a momentary hesitation, he stood up.

"I'll come!" he said.

A smart landaulette stood waiting outside the house; and, without a word
to the chauffeur, Severac Bablon opened the door and entered after
Sheard. The motor immediately started, and the car moved off silently.
The blinds were drawn.

"You will have to trust yourself implicitly in my hands," said Sheard's
extraordinary companion. "In a moment I shall ask you to fasten your
handkerchief about your eyes and to give me your word that you are
securely blindfolded!"

"Is it necessary?"

"Quite! Are you nervous?"

"No!"--shortly.

There was a brief interval of silence, during which the car, as well as
it was possible to judge, whirled through the deserted streets at a
furious speed.

"Will you oblige me?" came the musical voice.

The journalist took out his pocket-handkerchief, and making it into a
bandage, tied it firmly about his head.

"Are you ready?" asked Severac Bablon.

"Yes."

A click told of a raised blind.

"Can you see?"

"Not a thing!"

"Then take my hand and follow quickly. Do not speak; do not stumble!"

Cautiously feeling his way, Sheard, one hand clasping that of his guide,
stepped out into the keen night air, and was assisted by some third
person--probably the chauffeur--on to the roof of the car!

"Be silent!" from Severac Bablon. "Fear nothing! Step forward as your
feet will be directed and trust implicitly to me!"

As a man in a dream Sheard stood there--on the roof of a motor-car, in a
London street--and waited. There came dimly to his ears, and from no
great distance, the sound of late traffic along what he judged to be a
main road. But immediately about him quiet reigned. They were evidently
in some deserted back-water of a great thoroughfare. A faint scuffling
sound arose, followed by that of someone lightly dropping upon a stone
pavement.

Then an arm was slipped about him and he was directed, in a whisper, to
step forward. He found his foot upon what he thought to be a flat
railing. His ankle was grasped from below and the voice of Severac
Bablon came, "On to my shoulders--so!"

Still with the supporting arm about him, he stepped gingerly
forward--and stood upon the shoulders of the man below.

"Stand quite rigidly!" said Severac Bablon.

He obeyed; and was lifted, lightly as a feather, and deposited upon the
ground! It was such a feat as he had seen professional athletes perform,