McMurtrie came up about an hour later. Suave and courteous as ever,
he knocked at my door before entering the room, and wished me good
morning in the friendliest of fashions.

"I have brought you another _Daily Mail_--yesterday's," he said,
throwing the paper down on the bed. "It contains the second instalment
of your adventures." Then he paused and looked at me with that curious
smile that seemed to begin and end with his lips. "Well," he added,
"and how are the stiffness and the sore throat this morning?"

"Gone," I said, "both of them. I have no excuse for stopping in bed
except lack of clothes."

He nodded and sat down on the window-sill. "I daresay we can find a
way out of that difficulty. My friend Savaroff would, I am sure, be
delighted to lend you some garments to go on with. You seem to be much
of a size."

"Well, I should be delighted to accept them," I said. "Even the joy of
being in a real bed again begins to wear off after two days."

"I am afraid you can't expect very much liberty while you are our
guest," he said, leaning back against the window. "It would be too
dangerous for you to go outside the house, even at night time. I
expect Sonia told you about our visitor yesterday."

"Yes," I said; "I should like to have heard the interview."

"It was quite interesting. From what he told me I should say that few
prisoners have been more missed than you are. It appears that there