discern all this, for the night was dark, and the back of the house
darker still. Presently a light flared out in one of the rooms, and then
Gurdon could make out the dome of a large conservatory leading from the
garden to the house.

"I shall find myself in the hands of the police, if I don't take care,"
Gurdon said to himself. "What an ass I am to embark on an adventure like
this. It isn't as if I had the slightest chance of being of any use to
the girl, seeing that I--"

He broke off, suddenly conscious of the fact that another of the rooms
was lighted now--a large one, by the side of the conservatory. In the
silence of the garden it seemed to him that he could hear voices raised
angrily, and then a cry, as if of pain, from somebody inside.

Fairly interested at last, Gurdon advanced till he was close to the
window. He could hear no more now, for the same tense silence had
fallen over the place once more. Gurdon pressed close to the window; he
felt something yield beneath his feet, and the next moment he had
plunged headlong into the darkness of something that suggested an
underground cellar. Perhaps he had been standing unconsciously on a
grating that was none too safe, for now he felt himself bruised and half
stunned, lying on his back on a cold, hard floor, amid a mass of broken
glass and rusty ironwork.

Startled and surprised as he was, the noise of the breaking glass sounded
in Gurdon's ears like the din of some earthquake. He struggled to his
feet, hoping that the gods would be kind to him, and that he could get
away before his presence there was discovered. He was still dazed and
confused; his head ached painfully, and he groped in the pitch darkness