in the room above. His round head was covered with short, wire-like hair
that grew low upon his narrow forehead. Armitage noted, too, the man's
bull-like neck, small sharp eyes and bristling mustache. The fitful flash
of the match disclosed the rough furniture of a kitchen; the brick
flooring and his wet inverness lay cold at Armitage's back.

The fellow growled an execration in Servian; then with ponderous
difficulty asked a question in German.

"Who are you and what do you want here?"

Armitage shook his head; and replied in English:

"I do not understand."

The man struck a series of matches that he might scrutinize his captive's
face, then ran his hands over Armitage's pockets to make sure he had no
arms. The big fellow was clearly puzzled to find that he had caught a
gentleman in water-soaked evening clothes lurking in the area, and as the
matter was beyond his wits it only remained for him to communicate with
his master. This, however, was not so readily accomplished. He had
reasons of his own for not calling out, and there were difficulties in
the way of holding the prisoner and at the same time bringing down the
men who had gone to the most distant room in the house for their own
security.

Several minutes passed during which the burly Servian struck his matches
and took account of his prisoner; and meanwhile Armitage lay perfectly
still, his arms fast numbing from the rough clasp of the stalwart
servant's legs. There was nothing to be gained by a struggle in this