"You damned madman!" shrieked the Manager. "Drop that pistol!"

"That's _another_ place," was all Jones said, still taking careful aim
for another shot.

The big man, screaming and blundering, scrambled beneath the desk,
making frantic efforts to hide, but the secretary took a step forward
and fired two shots in quick succession into his projecting legs,
hitting first one ankle and then the other, and smashing them horribly.

"Two more places where the chains burnt," he said, going a little
nearer.

The Manager, still shrieking, tried desperately to squeeze his bulk
behind the shelter of the opening beneath the desk, but he was far too
large, and his bald head protruded through on the other side. Jones
caught him by the scruff of his great neck and dragged him yelping out
on to the carpet. He was covered with blood, and flopped helplessly upon
his broken wrists.

"Be quick now!" cried the voice of Thorpe.

There was a tremendous commotion and banging at the door, and Jones
gripped his pistol tightly. Something seemed to crash through his brain,
clearing it for a second, so that he thought he saw beside him a great
veiled figure, with drawn sword and flaming eyes, and sternly approving
attitude.

"Remember the eyes! Remember the eyes!" hissed Thorpe in the air above