He walked over to her and glowered down at the girl, and she puffed a cloud of cigarette smoke in his face.

"I'm a crook because it pays me to be a crook," said the girl calmly.

"If it's jollying along one of the colonel's blue-eyed innocents, or keeping a watchful eye upon Mr. King, or acting trustful maiden to some poor fool from the country--why, I'm ready and willing, because that's my job. But this is a different matter altogether. If the colonel says she's got to go abroad, why, I suppose she's got to go. But she's not going to be on my conscience, that's all," said Lollie.

They pa.s.sed through the door into a smaller room where the night watchers sat. She made as though to sit at the table when he gripped her arm and swung her round. She put up her hands to defend herself, but was thrown against the wall, and his grip was on her throat.

"Do you know what I'll do for you?" he hissed.

"I don't care what you do," she said. She was on the verge of tears.

"You're not going into that room--you're _not_ going!"

She sprang at him, but with a snarl like a wild beast, he turned and struck her, and she fell against the wall.

"Now get out"--he pointed to the door--"get out and don't show your face here again. And if you've got any information, you can report it to the colonel and see what he's got to say to you!"

She slunk from the room. Pinto went back to the room where the girl lay.

"Cover your head with a blanket, my pretty?" he said. "Pinto must not see that pretty face, eh?"

He laid hold of the blanket's edge and pulled it gently down. But the blanket would not come away. It was being clutched tightly. With a jerk he wrenched it down, then stumbled backwards to the floor, a grotesque and ludicrous figure, for the white silk mask of Jack o' Judgment confronted him and the hateful voice of his enemy shrilled:

"I'm Death! Jack o' Judgment! Poor old Jack! Jack, the hangman! You'll meet him one day, Pinto--meet him now!"

Pinto collapsed--he had fainted.

CHAPTER XXII

MAISIE TELLS HER STORY

"There is one fact which I would impress upon you," said Sir Stanley Belcom, addressing the heads of his departments at the early morning conference at Scotland Yard, "and it is this, that the criminal has nine chances against the one which the law possesses. He has the initiative in the first place, and if he fails to evade detection, the law gives him certain opportunities of defence and imposes certain restrictions which prevent one taking a line which would bring the truth of his a.s.sertions or denials to light. It protects him; it will not admit evidence against him; it will not allow the jury to be influenced by the record of his previous crimes until they have delivered their verdict upon the one on which he stands charged; in fact, gentlemen, the criminal, if he were intelligent, would score all the time."

"That's true enough, sir," said Cole, of the Record Office. "I've never yet met a criminal who wasn't a fool."

"And you never will till you meet Colonel Boundary," said Sir Stanley with a good-natured smile, "and the reason you do not meet him is because he is not a fool. But, gentlemen, every criminal has one weak spot, and sooner or later he exposes the c.h.i.n.k in his armour to the sword of justice--if you do not mind so theatrical an ill.u.s.tration.

Here, again, I do not think that Boundary will make any such exposure.

One of you gentlemen has again brought up the question as to the prosecution of the Boundary Gang, and particularly the colonel himself.

Well, I am all in favour of it, though I doubt whether the Home Secretary or the Public Prosecutor would agree with my point of view. We have a great deal of evidence, but not sufficient evidence to convict.

We know this man is a blackmailer and that he engages in terrorising his unfortunate victims, but the mere fact that we know is not sufficient.

We need the evidence, and that evidence we have not got. And that is where our mysterious Jack o' Judgment is going to score. He knows, and it is sufficient for him that he _does_ know. He calls for no corroborative evidence, but convicts and executes his judgment without recourse to the law books. I do not think that the official police will ever capture Boundary, and if it is left to them, he will die sanctified by old age and ten years of comfortable repentance. He will probably end his life in a cathedral town, and may indeed become a member of the town council--hullo, King, what is the matter?"

Stafford King had rushed in. He was dusty and hot of face, and there was a light of excitement in his eyes.

"She's found, sir, she's found!"

"She's found?" Sir Stanley frowned. "To whom are you referring? Miss White?"

Stafford could only nod.

With a gesture the commissioner dismissed the conference. Then:

"Where was she found?" he asked.

"In her own flat, sir. That is the amazing thing about it."

"What! Did she come back herself?"

Stafford shook his head.

"It is an astonishing story, sir. She was, of course, detained and held prisoner somewhere, and last night--she will not give me any details--she was carried from the house where she had been kept prisoner. She had an awful experience, at which she only hints, poor girl! Apparently she fainted, and when she came to she was in a motor-car being carried along rapidly. And that is about all she'll tell me."

"But who brought her away?" asked the commissioner.

Again Stafford shook his head.

"For some reason or other she is reticent and will give no information at all. It is evident she has been drugged, for she looks wretchedly ill--of course, I haven't pressed her for particulars."

"It is a strange story," said the commissioner.

"I have a feeling," Stafford went on, "that she has given a promise to her unknown rescuer that she will not tell more than is necessary."

"But it is necessary to tell the police," said the commissioner, "and even more important for the young lady to tell her--fiance, I hope, King?"

The young man reddened and smiled.

"I agree with you that this is not the moment when you can cross-examine the girl, but I want you to see her as soon as you possibly can and try to induce her to tell you all she knows."

Maisie White lay on the sofa in her own room. She was still weak, but oh! the relief of being back again and of ending that terrible nightmare which had oppressed her for--how long? Even the depressing effect of the drug could not quench the exaltation of finding herself free. She went over the details of the night one by one. She must do it, she thought.

She must never lose grip of what happened or forget her promise.

First she recalled seeing the weird figure of Jack o' Judgment. He had lifted her from the bed and had laid her on the floor. She remembered seeing him slip beneath the blankets, and then Pinto had come. She recalled the cracked voice of her rescuer, his fantastic language.

She had awakened to consciousness to find herself in a big car which was pa.s.sing quickly through the dark and deserted streets. She had no recollection of being carried from the room or of being handed to the thick-set man who stood on a ladder outside the open window. All she recalled was her waking to consciousness and seeing in the half-light the gleam of a white silk handkerchief.

She was too dazed to be terrified, and the soft voice which spoke into her ear quelled any inclinations she might have had to struggle. For the man was holding her in his arms as tenderly as a brother might hold a sister, or a father a child.

"You're safe, Miss White," said the voice. "Do you understand? Are you awake?"

"Yes," she whispered.

"You know what I have saved you from?"

She nodded.