"If you will let me go," she said, desperately, "I swear I will give you
everything I have in the world!"

Madame Wachner suddenly laid her hand on Sylvia's arm, and tried to force
her down on to her knees.

"What do you take us for?" she cried, furiously. "We want nothing from
you--nothing at all!"

She looked across at her husband, and there burst from her lips a torrent
of words, uttered in the uncouth tongue which the Wachners used for
secrecy.

Sylvia tried desperately to understand, but she could make nothing of
the strange, rapid-spoken syllables--until there fell on her ear, twice
repeated, the name _Wolsky_....

Madame Wachner stepped suddenly back, and as she did so L'Ami Fritz moved
a step forward.

Sylvia looked at him, an agonised appeal in her eyes. He was smiling
hideously, a nervous grin zig-zagging across his large, thin-lipped
mouth.

"You should have taken the coffee," he muttered in English. "It would
have saved us all so much trouble!"

He put out his left hand, and the long, strong fingers closed,
tentacle-wise, on her slender shoulder.