Most of the men—there were eight of them including Mr. Jordan—wanted her put out of the way at once. But at last, her father and Number 2, a big man with a long beard who seemed to be more humane than the rest, prevailed upon them to let him lead her back to her bed. Her father was forbidden to hold any intercourse with her whatsoever. She was locked in her bedroom, afraid even to cry, for fear she would be heard, and not knowing what moment the door would open and they would drag her to her death.”

“Horrible!” Mr. Sanborn’s pipe had gone out but he didn’t seem to notice it. “That experience was enough to unhinge a person’s mind. Janet may be shy and retiring, but she evidently doesn’t lack grit. By the way, did she say she recognized any of the men at the meeting?”

“No. She said that without exception she was sure she’d never seen any of them before, although they were all on good terms with her father. Each one seemed to be of a different nationality. One was a black man who wore a turban—an East Indian, probably. Another, also pretty dark, wore a red fez. The others were apparently Europeans, but as they all spoke English together she had no way of guessing what they were. Number 2, the man with the long brown beard, she thought might be a Scandinavian. She was sure, though, that her father was the only American or Anglo-Saxon in the group.”

“Tell us what happened next morning,” proposed Dorothy. Her coffee, now cold, remained untasted in the cup.

“I’m getting to that. At eight o’clock her door was unlocked and a woman, a stranger to her, came into her bedroom with a breakfast tray. She put the tray on a table and went into the bathroom and turned on the water for Janet’s bath, then left the room and locked the door after her. At nine this same woman came back, brought some books and magazines to her, made up the bed and put the room straight. Whenever Janet spoke to her, she shook her head and put her finger to her lips. But Janet said that even now she doesn’t know whether the woman is actually dumb or only acting under orders. She has brought and taken away her meals ever since, but she has never been able to get her to speak.”

“But how did she find out about going to Dr. Winn’s house?” asked Bill Bolton, who had shown an interest quite as keen as Dorothy’s or Sanborn’s.

Howard Bright drank a glass of water. “I’m getting to that part now,” he explained. “I’m not much of a story teller and I seem to be taking an awful time to get through this one—but I’m doing my best just the same.”

“Of course you are!” Dorothy motioned Bill to keep quiet. “You’re doing noble, Howard! Pay no attention to that goof over there.”

“O.K., Dorothy.” Howard replaced his empty glass on the table. “At about noon of the first day of Janet’s imprisonment in her room, the door was unlocked and Mr. Lawson came in. She knew him as a friend of her father’s who had dined with them two or three times. She had always thought him quite a jolly sort of chap and knew that he was private secretary to Dr. Winn, the celebrated chemist. Naturally, she felt rather relieved to see him, and she opened up on him at once. She still felt that her only hope for life and freedom was to pretend absolute ignorance of the happenings of the night before. And she managed to keep up that pretense before Lawson, though what he had to do with the affair she hadn’t any idea, nor does she yet know where he comes into the picture. Anyway, he wasn’t at the meeting. She let him know, though, that she was very indignant and astonished to find herself kept a prisoner, and demanded to see her father. Lawson, she told me, was most affable and kind to her. He said that she of course did not realize that she had been very ill during the night and that she was now under doctor’s orders. He also told her that her father had been called away on business, so he had come to her as an old friend of the family, to be of any help that he could. Janet said that his sympathy almost undermined her suspicion—she almost confided in him. But luckily, she didn’t. He has been to see her every day since, and she is now convinced that his part in this devilish scheme is to gain her confidence, and to find out whether she actually did hear or see anything at the meeting. Yesterday he told her that it had been decided she should visit him and his wife at Dr. Winn’s house while her father is away, and that in order to occupy her mind, she should act as secretary to Mrs. Lawson, who assists Dr. Winn in his work.”

“Maybe they don’t really mean to harm her after all,” said Dorothy hopefully.

“Janet is certain,” said Howard, “that they want her at the Doctor’s for close observation. She took a secretarial course at school, so that part of it is all right, but I believe with her that one slip, one sign that she is deceiving them, will mean that she will simply vanish and never be heard of again. She knows that Lawson lied about one thing: her father is still living in their flat. She has heard his voice several times.”

“But what I can’t understand,” said Dorothy, “is why, just as soon as you knew all this, you didn’t go to the nearest police station and have that flat raided!”

“Because, Janet won’t hear of it.” Howard’s tone was thoroughly wretched. “I worked out some other plans to release her, but she refuses to budge.”

“Is the girl crazy?” This from Bill.

“No—she’s as sane as any of us—maybe saner. She says that if the police are called in or I help her to escape, that crew will believe her father knew all the time that she was faking—as of course he does. And she says she is sure they will have him killed out of hand, once they discover that. To make matters worse, if possible, my firm thinks I’m going to sail for Lima the day after tomorrow! If I turn them down, I’ll lose my job here and ruin my future. I’ve been hoping against hope that something would turn up so Janet could sail with me. I certainly shall not sail without her. I was buying some clothes for the trip when I ran into you this morning—” Howard’s voice trailed off hopelessly.

“Gee!” It was evident that Dorothy was not far from tears. “You poor dears are in an awful fix! I do wish I could help you. Do something—so that you two could get married and sail for Peru!”

“Perhaps you can.” Ashton Sanborn knocked the ashes from his pipe into an ash tray.

“How?” shouted three voices simultaneously.

Chapter IV

MEET FLASH!

“Dorothy, have you ever done anything in the way of amateur theatricals?” Ashton Sanborn stroked the bowl of his pipe reflectively.

“Why—er—yes, a little.” She looked a bit bewildered. “I’ve been in the Silvermine Sillies for the past two years.”

Sanborn nodded. “How is it you’re out of school on a Thursday?” The question seemed irrelevant. He was leaning back in his chair now, surveying the ceiling rather absently, but there was nothing lackadaisical about his crisp tones.

“Christmas holidays. Why?”

“Because, if you’re willing, I may want you to work for me for a few days. I suppose I can reach your father by telephone at the New Canaan bank?”

“No, you can’t—Daddy is down in Florida on a fishing trip. He’s on Mr. Bolton’s yacht, somewhere off the coast. They won’t be back until Christmas Eve.”

“That,” said the Secret Service man, “complicates matters. Who, may I ask, is looking after Miss Dixon while Mr. Dixon is away?”

“I’m looking after my own sweet self, sir.” Dorothy grinned roguishly.

“Then who is to take the responsibility for your actions, young lady?”

“Why, you may—if you want to!”

For a moment or two the detective studied her thoughtfully. There was a certain assurance about this