“At that you said gravely—­wanting to touch his conscience, I suppose:—­

“’Richard Wharton’s come back, but you can’t cross-examine him.  For Richard Wharton died some six or eight weeks since at my cottage at Babbicombe, after revealing to me all this vile plot against himself and his daughter.’

“Then papa drew back with a loud laugh—­a hateful laugh like a demon’s.  I can’t help calling him papa still, though it pains me even to think of him.  That loud laugh rings still in my ears to this day.  It was horrible, diabolical, like a wild beast’s in triumph.

“‘You fool!’ he said, with a sneer.  ’And you come here to tell me that!  You infernal idiot!  You come here to put yourself in my power like this!  Courtenay Ivor, I always knew you were an ass, but I didn’t ever know you were quite such a born idiot of a fellow as that.  Hold back there, you image!’ With a rapid dart, before you could see what he was doing, he passed a wire round your body and thrust two knobs into your hands.  ‘You’re in my power now!’ he exclaimed.  ‘You can’t move or stir!’

“I saw at once what he’d done.  He’d pinned you to the spot with the handles of his powerful electric apparatus.  It was so strong that it would hold one riveted to the spot in pain.  You couldn’t let go.  You could hardly even speak or cry aloud for help.  He had pinned you down irresistibly.  I thought he meant to murder you.

“Yet I was too terrified, even so, to scream aloud for the servants.  I only crouched there, rooted, and wondered what next would happen.

“He went across to the door and turned the key in it.  Then he opened the cabinet and took out some things there.  It was growing quite dusk, and I could hardly see them.  He returned with them where you stood, struggling in vain to set yourself free.  His voice was as hard as adamant now.  He spoke slowly and distinctly, in a voice like a fiend’s.  Oh, Jack, no wonder that scene took away my reason!”

“And you can remember what he said next, Una?” Jack asked, following me eagerly.

“Yes, I can remember what he said next,” I went on.  “He stood over you threateningly.  I could see then the thing he held in his right hand was a loaded revolver.  In his left was a bottle, a small medical phial.

“‘If you stir, I’ll shoot you,’ he said; ’I’ll shoot you like a dog!  You fool, you’ve sealed your own fate!  What an idiot to let me know Richard Wharton’s dead!  Now, hear your fate!  Nobody saw you come into this house to-night.  Nobody shall see you leave.  Look here, sir, at this bottle.  It’s chloroform:  do you understand?  Chloroform—­chloroform—­chloroform!  I shall hold it to your nose—­so.  I shall stifle you quietly—­no blood, no fuss, no nasty mess of any sort.  And when I’m done,—­do you see these flasks?—­I can reduce your damned carcase to a pound of ashes with chemicals in half-an-hour!  You’ve found out too much.  But you’ve mistaken your man!  Courtenay Ivor, say your prayers and commend your soul to the devil!  You’ve driven me to bay, and I give you no quarter!’”