“How do you know that she locked me in the garage?”

Quest smiled, stretched out his right arm and his long fingers played softly with the pocket wireless.

“In just the same way,” he explained, “that I am sending her this message at the present moment—­a message which she will receive and understand wherever she is hidden.  Would you like to know what I am telling her?”

The man shivered.  His eyes, as though fascinated, watched the little instrument.

“I am saying this, Craig,” Quest continued.  “Craig is here and in my power.  He is sitting within a few feet of me and will not leave this room alive until he has told me your whereabouts.  Keep up your courage, Lenora.  You shall be free in an hour.”

The trapped man looked away from the instrument into Quest’s face.  There was a momentary flicker of something that might have passed for courage in his tone.

“Mr. Quest,” he said, “you are a wonderful man, but there are limits to your power.  You can tear my tongue from my mouth but you cannot force me to speak a word.”

Quest leaned a little further forward in his chair, his gaze became more concentrated.

“That is where you are wrong, Craig.  That is where you make a mistake.  In a very few minutes you will be telling me all the secrets of your heart.”

Craig shivered, drew back a little in his chair, tried to rise and fell back again helpless.

“My God!” he cried.  “Leave me alone!”

“When you have told me the truth,” Quest answered, swiftly, “and you will tell me all I want to know in a few moments....  Your eyelids are getting a little heavy, Craig.  Don’t resist.  Something which is like sleep is coming over you.  You see my will has yours by the throat.”

Craig seemed suddenly to collapse altogether.  He fell over on one side.  Every atom of colour had faded from his cheeks.  Quest leaned over him with a frown.  The man was in a stupor without a doubt, but it was a physical state of unconsciousness into which he had subsided.  He felt his pulse, unbuttoned his coat, and listened for a moment to the beating of his heart.  Then he crossed the room, fetched the pitcher of water and dashed some of its contents in Craig’s face.  In a few moments the man opened his eyes and regained consciousness.  His appearance, however, was still ghastly.

“Where am I?” he murmured.

“You are here in my room, at the Servants’ Club,” Quest replied.  “You are just about to tell me where I shall find Lenora.”

Craig shook his head.  A very weak smile of triumph flickered for a moment at the corners of his lips.

“Your torture chamber trick won’t work on me!” he exclaimed.  “You can never—­”

The whole gamut of emotions seemed already to have spent themselves in the man’s face, but at that moment there was a new element, an element of terrified curiosity in the expression of his eyes as he stared towards the door.