expectedly. Barely had he got into the drawing-room, when the door opened and the girl rushed in.
"Get him away at once," she cried. "In your car…. Don't waste a second. I've started her up."
"Good girl," he cried enthusiastically. "But what about you?"
She stamped her foot impatiently. "I'm all right—absolutely all right. Get him away that's all that matters."
Drummond grinned. "The humorous thing is that I haven't an idea who the bird is except that—" He paused, with his eyes fixed on the man's left thumb. The top joint was crushed into a red, shapeless pulp, and suddenly the meaning of the instrument Lakington had produced from his pocket became clear. Also the reason of that dreadful cry at dinner….
"By God!" whispered Drummond, half to himself, while his jaws set like a steel vice. "A thumbscrew. The devils… the bloody swine…"
"Oh! quick, quick," the girl urged in an agony. "They may be here at any moment." She dragged him to the door, and together they forced the man into the car.
"Lakington won't," said Hugh with a grin. "And if you see him to-morrow—don't ask after his jaw…. Good-night, Phyllis."
With a quick movement he raised her hand to his lips; then he slipped in the clutch and the car disappeared down the drive….
He felt a sense of elation and of triumph at having
