Hamel looked at her wonderingly.

“I have come down to warn you,” she went on.  “It is possible that this is the beginning of the end, that his wonderful fortune will desert him, that his star has gone down.  But remember that he has the brains and courage of genius.  You think that you have him in a trap.  Don’t be surprised, when you go back, to find that he has turned the tables upon you.”

“Impossible!” Hamel declared.  “I looked all round the place.  There isn’t a window or opening anywhere.  The trap-door is in the middle of the ceiling and it is fifteen feet from the floor.  It shuts with a spring.”

“It may be as you say,” she observed.  “It may be that he is safe.  Remember, though, if you go near him, that he is desperate.”

“Do you know where Miss Fentolin is?” he interrupted.

“She is with her mother,” the woman replied, impatiently.  “She is coming down.  Tell me, what are you going to do with Mr. Fentolin?  Nothing else matters.”

“I have a friend,” Hamel answered, “who will see to that.”

“If you are relying upon the law,” she said, “I think you will find that the law cannot touch him.  Mr. Dunster was brought to the house in a perfectly natural manner.  He was certainly injured, and injured in a railway accident.  Doctor Sarson is a fully qualified surgeon, and he will declare that Mr. Dunster was unfit to travel.  If necessary, they will have destroyed the man’s intelligence.  If you think that you have him broken, let me warn you that you may be disappointed.  Let me, if I may, give you one word of advice.”

“Please do,” Hamel begged.

She looked at him coldly.  Her tone was still free from any sort of emotion.

“You have taken up some sort of position here,” she continued, “as a friend of Mrs. Seymour Fentolin, a friend of the family.  Don’t let them come back under the yoke.  You know the secret of their bondage?”

“I know it,” he admitted.

“They have been his slaves because their absolute obedience to his will was one of the conditions of his secrecy.  He has drawn the cords too tight.  Better let the truth be known, if needs be, than have their three lives broken.  Don’t let them go back under his governance.  For me, I cannot tell.  If he comes back, as he will come back, I may become his slave again, but let them break away.  Listen—­that is Mrs. Fentolin.”

She left him.  Hamel followed her out into the hail.  Esther and her mother were already at the foot of the stairs.  He drew them into the study.  Esther gave him her hands, but she was trembling in every limb.

“I am terrified!” she whispered.  “Every moment I think I can hear the click of that awful carriage.  He will come back; I am sure he will come back!”

“He may,” Hamel answered sturdily, “but never to make you people his slaves again.  You have done enough.  You have earned your freedom.”