hold you, pending the arrival of a special police mission from England. I
am bound to take note of anything you may say, so I beg of you not to ask
me any particulars as to the charge."

The colour slowly faded from Elizabeth's cheeks. She had risen to her
feet and was gripping the mantelpiece for support. Philip, however, was
perfectly calm. He poured out a glass of water and held it to her lips.

"Drink this, dear," he begged, "and don't be alarmed. It sounds very
terrible, but believe me there is nothing to be feared."

He swung suddenly round to Dane. His voice shook with passion.

"You've kept me under observation," he cried, "all this time. I haven't
attempted to escape. I haven't moved from New York. I haven't the
slightest intention of doing so until this thing is cleared up. Can't you
take my parole? Can't you leave me alone until they come from England?"

Mr. Dane shook his head slowly. He was a hard man, but there was an
unaccustomed look of distress in his face.

"Sorry, Mr. Romilly," he said regretfully. "I did suggest something of
the sort, but they wouldn't hear of it at headquarters. If we let you
slip through our fingers, we should never hear the last of it from
London."

Then there came another and a still more unexpected interruption. From
outside they heard Beatrice's voice raised in excitement. Mr. Dane stood
on one side as the door was thrown open. Beatrice suddenly flung herself
into the room, dragging after her a man who was almost breathless.