Then, in a flash, a rim of cold steel touched her temple, and Mrs. Vandemeyer’s voice rose cold and menacing: 

“You damned little fool!  Do you think I don’t know?  No, don’t answer.  If you struggle or cry out, I’ll shoot you like a dog.”

The rim of steel pressed a little harder against the girl’s temple.

“Now then, march,” went on Mrs. Vandemeyer.  “This way—­into my room.  In a minute, when I’ve done with you, you’ll go to bed as I told you to.  And you’ll sleep—­oh yes, my little spy, you’ll sleep all right!”

There was a sort of hideous geniality in the last words which Tuppence did not at all like.  For the moment there was nothing to be done, and she walked obediently into Mrs. Vandemeyer’s bedroom.  The pistol never left her forehead.  The room was in a state of wild disorder, clothes were flung about right and left, a suit-case and a hat box, half-packed, stood in the middle of the floor.

Tuppence pulled herself together with an effort.  Her voice shook a little, but she spoke out bravely.

“Come now,” she said.  “This is nonsense.  You can’t shoot me.  Why, every one in the building would hear the report.”

“I’d risk that,” said Mrs. Vandemeyer cheerfully.  “But, as long as you don’t sing out for help, you’re all right—­and I don’t think you will.  You’re a clever girl.  You deceived me all right.  I hadn’t a suspicion of you!  So I’ve no doubt that you understand perfectly well that this is where I’m on top and you’re underneath.  Now then—­sit on the bed.  Put your hands above your head, and if you value your life don’t move them.”

Tuppence obeyed passively.  Her good sense told her that there was nothing else to do but accept the situation.  If she shrieked for help there was very little chance of anyone hearing her, whereas there was probably quite a good chance of Mrs. Vandemeyer’s shooting her.  In the meantime, every minute of delay gained was valuable.

Mrs. Vandemeyer laid down the revolver on the edge of the washstand within reach of her hand, and, still eyeing Tuppence like a lynx in case the girl should attempt to move, she took a little stoppered bottle from its place on the marble and poured some of its contents into a glass which she filled up with water.

“What’s that?” asked Tuppence sharply.

“Something to make you sleep soundly.”

Tuppence paled a little.

“Are you going to poison me?” she asked in a whisper.

“Perhaps,” said Mrs. Vandemeyer, smiling agreeably.

“Then I shan’t drink it,” said Tuppence firmly.  “I’d much rather be shot.  At any rate that would make a row, and some one might hear it.  But I won’t be killed off quietly like a lamb.”

Mrs. Vandemeyer stamped her foot.