"I do not," said Ford. "But, if he takes me in, I must make a bluff
of sending for my things. No; either I will be turned out in five
minutes, or if he accepts me as a patient I will be there until
midnight. If I cannot get the girl out of the house by midnight, it
will mean that I can't get out myself, and you had better bring the
police and the coroner."

"Do you mean it?" asked Cuthbert.

"I most certainly do!" exclaimed Ford.

Until twelve I want a chance to get this story exclusively for our
paper. If she is not free by then it means I have fallen down on
it, and you and the police are to begin to batter in the doors."

The two young men left the cab, and at some distance from each
other walked to Sowell Street. At the house of Dr. Prothero, Ford
stopped and rang the bell. From across the street Cuthbert saw the
door open and the figure of a man of almost gigantic stature block
the doorway. For a moment he stood there, and then Cuthbert saw him
step to one side, saw Ford enter the house and the door close upon
him. Cuthbert at once ran to a telephone, and, having instructed
Ford's landlord as to the part he was to play, returned to Sowell
Street. There, in a state nearly approaching a genuine nervous
breakdown, he continued his vigil.

Even without his criminal record to cast a glamour over him, Ford
would have found Dr. Prothero, a disturbing person. His size was
enormous, his eyes piercing, sinister, unblinking, and the hands
that could strangle a bull, and with which as though to control