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  “Will Mr. Lucas want me this evening ?” she asked.

  “I don't know, Miss, he is out at present” ; and she was left to her own devices with instructions to ring for anything she required.

  Her unpacking disposed of, she sat on the broad, repp-covered window seat watching the birds in the tree. She had a curious feeling that she was a prisoner, free in appearance, as the lions on the Mappin terraces are free, yet ringed round upon every side by invisible barriers. She wished the superintendent had kept silence and refrained from instilling that uneasy doubt. Why could not people leave one to one's own devices ? True, she did not know the nature of her work or the occupation of Lucas, but why should things be wrong ?

  The butler's wife came up with a tray, and Veronica determined to make good the deficiencies in her knowledge by judicious questioning.

  “Have you been here long, Mrs. Ashlott ?”

  “Lor—Yes, Miss. I come here when I married. Ashlott's been here, man and boy, these forty years.”

  “Has Mr. Lucas been here long ?”

  “No, Miss. Only five or six years. He is quite a new-comer.”

  “Does anyone else live in the house beside Mr. Lucas ?”

  “No, Miss. Only you and me and Ashlott regular-like, but the gentlemen are always coming and going, and we often puts them up for the night. I always keeps the beds made up.”

  “What is Mr. Lucas ?” asked Veronica boldly.

  “Secretary, Miss.”

  “Oh!” said Veronica. “And the gentlemen? What are they ?”

  “Ah,” said Mrs. Ashlott. “Now you're asking. Them as knows most tells least.” With which cryptic utterance she departed.

  It was after ten o'clock, and Veronica was thinking of bed when there came a knock at the door, and in response to her summons, Lucas entered.

  “Don't get up,” he said as she rose nervously, the superintendent's suspicions flashing through her mind. “I won't keep you long. I only wanted to explain to you one or two things about your job. The work comes in rushes, and unexpectedly, at all hours of the twenty-four, in fact, so I don't want you to go out for the next few days, but to be in the house so that I can get you if I want you suddenly. After that, if I decide to keep you on, I will make arrangements for you to have regular time off duty. The work is not exacting, a good part of the time you will have nothing whatever to do, but I want you to be at hand in case I need you.”

  Veronica's heart had sunk while he was speaking. So her post was not yet a security ? The uncertainty, and the renewed anxiety it engendered, made her acquiesce very humbly to Lucas's request that she should not leave the house for the next few days. He remained for a few minutes, chatting with her pleasantly and kindly, evidently wishing to put her at her ease and make her feel settled and contented. Moreover, his words had done their work ; Veronica, secure of her post, might have been tempted to question and criticize the conditions of it, but Veronica, insecure, clung desperately, dreading to find herself out of work and with a black mark against her name on the school register. At all costs she must keep this, her first post, long enough to have a respectable reference. With a single phrase he had ensured her obedience. For one week she would accept the most eccentric commands without question, she would humour him to the top of his bent, refuse nothing, protest against nothing. And a week was all that Lucas required for the installing of his occult telephone.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  THE NEXT MORNING VERONICA AWAITED HER employer's pleasure at nine ; likewise at ten, but he did not come ; finally at eleven he appeared, smelling pleasantly of soap and very spick and span and cheerful, and the morning's work commenced. Veronica found that hers was to be the appalling task of copying voluminous documents, every one of which was in cypher ; letter by letter, the weird gibberish had to be copied and then counter-checked. When the copying was finished, however, there seemed to be nothing else for her to do ; Lucas himself worked indefatigably, but apparently did not see fit to entrust her with any further tasks. She sat at her desk, hands folded, watching his bent back;. Time went on, and time went on, and still he worked, and still she waited. At one o'clock he called a halt for lunch, bidding her return at two. But when she returned at that hour and inquired what she was to do next, he appeared somewhat nonplussed, as if he had not been expecting such an inquiry, and looked vaguely round at the furniture, as if it might be in need of her services. No response being forthcoming, his gaze returned to Veronica, and she fancied that he was trying not to smile.

  “I have nothing for you to do at the moment,” he said. “You can have a look at these if you like,” and he pointed to a pile of morning papers ly ng on a chair.

  Veronica read what the Tories had to say about the Liberals, and the Liberals about the Tories, and the Socialists concerning both, till five o'clock, when Lucas, who had worked unintermittently, rose, stretched himself, and announced that he had to go out.

  “Will you want me again this evening ?” asked Veronica.

  He shook his head. “I shall not come back till late.”

  “Then would you mind if I just ran round to the hostel ? It is only in the next square. The superintendent asked me to go in and see her.”

  Veronica raised her eyes to his as she spoke, and saw to her amazement that the pupils had entirely disappeared ; two greenish-brown discs looked back at her without a trace of expression, inhuman, malignant, horrible. Anything more sinister it would be impossible to imagine than this human countenance from which all trace of humanity had suddenly been erased. She stood rooted to the floor, gazing at this horror till Lucas's voice broke the spell.

  “I would prefer you did not go out for the present, as I have already told you,” he said. “Someone might ring up on the phone,” he added, by way of explanation. The pupils of his eyes were slowly returning to their normal proportions. He looked at her sharply, perceiving her consternation. “What is the matter ?” he asked.

  “Nothing,” said Veronica. She could not very well explain to him that it was the horror of his face that had overcome her. He continued to stare at her, not with the offensive stare of a man's curiosity, but with an entirely impersonal inspection. Apparently the result was unsatisfactory, for he took a step towards her. Instinctively Veronica stepped back. Lucas took another step, and Veronica again retreated ; she was against the desk now, and could go no further, and Lucas came right up to her and looked into her eves ; she was powerless to withdraw them and gazed back at him helpless, fascinated. He was not a tall man, and his face was almost on a level with hers, but a sense of power issued from him that held her spellbound, he looked and looked, and did not wish to turn away ; vitality radiated from those eyes, intense, magnetic, compelling. Veronica went on looking.

  She might have stood thus till she turned to stone if the man himself had not released her. Something shut down in his eyes, the power was cut off, and she was looking into an ordinary human countenance, olive-skinned, clear-cut, far from unprepossessing. Her horror of him was gone, in its place remained a curious fascination ; what Vas he going to do next ? She wanted to see. Her eyes followed every movement he made about the room. She knew that he was aware of this scrutiny, that he expected it, did not resent it. She was sorry now that he was going out ; everything would seem very flat and lifeless when he was gone. He looked up, caught her eyes, and smiled. She did not attempt to turn away.

  “Go upstairs to your rooms,” he said. “Mrs. Ashlott will bring you your supper. You will do alright:.”

  Obediently she went towards the door, he opened it: to let her out, closing it behind her with the click of a concealed lock. She went upstairs. As she turned at the half landing she saw that he was still looking after her, his eyes sparkling with some secret satisfaction. Dully she wondered what it might be, but her mind for the moment seemed at a standstill and refused its service. She went up to her room and flinging herself upon the bed, fell into a deep sleep from which she was only awakened by the appearance of Mrs. Ashlott with he
r supper tray two hours later.

  She did not feel hungry, but made some pretence of eating her supper for the sake of Mrs. Ashlott. Then, the meal dispatched, she sat on the window seat, watching the setting sun. All her uneasiness was gone ; she was placid, contented, non-thinking. She gazed at the great red globe, shorn of its power by the thick London atmosphere, with a face as expressionless as its own. Slowly it sank. Its rim touched the horizon. Gradually it disappeared. With its going a change occurred. The room felt suddenly cold, close August night though it was. Veronica sat up, and pulled herself together with a little shiver. What was it ? What was the matter ? Then with a rush the horror of Lucas's eyes returned to her. She sprang to her feet. What house was this that she was in ? The Ashlotts, Lucas, the mysterious ‘ gentlemen ’ ? Who and what were they all ? And she—was she trapped ? Did Lucas not intend to let her out ? and if so, what did he mean to do with her ? What was his motive ? Was it all real or was it a nightmare ? One thing was quite clear, she would not stop another second in this awful place, she must get out of it at all costs. Nothing mattered compared to that.

  She put on her hat, and caught up her purse. Her things did not matter, she could send for those later. Down the passage she sped on tip-toe, her feet making no sound on the thick dark carpet. But in an alcove was a settee, and on the settee a man sat reading. It was Lucas.

  “I thought you would,” he said, without looking up.

  Veronica was desperate. For a moment she stood poised, checked in mid-career, then she sprang forward again. Lucas did not hear her, the heavy carpet gave back no sound, and she was a dozen feet down the passage before he noticed her manœuvre. She literally hurled herself down the stairs, hardly touching the steps with her feet, swung herself round the bend by the banisters and was off down the next flight. There was a thud behind her as Lucas jumped the whole flight and landed in the passage. Then she felt herself caught from behind, and her elbows pinned to her sides. She screamed shrilly, and a hand was clapped over her mouth. Desperately she struggled till the arm that encircled her shifted its grip and clutched her into breathless immobility. Then they remained motionless.

  It was the first time that Veronica had had closer contact with a man than the conventional handshake, and her first sensation was utter astonishment, his strength was so much greater than she had expected. He was so surprisingly hard too, as a sinewy forearm pinned her ruthlessly against his chest ; and he smelt of strong pipe tobacco and shaving soap, strange, unfamiliar unfeminine smells. Veronica was so taken up with her observations that she forgot to be frightened till she felt Lucas shift his grip from her breast to her waist, and with the breath half crushed out of her, carry her downstairs and drop her unceremoniously among the cushions of the office sofa.

  He stood back and inspected her, smoothing his ruffled hair, breathless, laughing. Veronica straightened her skirts and gathered together the shreds of her dignity.

  “I wish to leave,” she said.

  “Do you ?” said Lucas, tucking the ends of his tie back into his waistcoat. I am afraid I can't spare you.”

  “Why not ?”

  “You happen to be useful to me.”

  “But you can get another secretary.”

  “I don't want a secretary.”

  “Then—then why did you engage me ?”

  “You would not understand if I told you, my dear child, so there is no use wasting time in explanations.”

  He pulled down his waistcoat, shot forward his cuffs, and adjusted his coat collar ; then, these preliminaries concluded, he gave Veronica his undivided attention. For several seconds they returned each other's gaze, then Lucas reached forward a thin brown forefinger and touched the soft round girlish throat.

  “There is something round your neck,” he said.

  Up went Veronica's hand involuntarily.

  “Look,” he said, “it is a steel collar.”

  The image his words evoked flashed into her mind, and as it did so, she felt cold hard metal under her hand.

  “There is a steel chain attached to it,” the man's soft level voice continued. “A slender steel chain. Run your hand down it.”

  He took her hand in his and drew it towards him, and she felt the links run through her fingers.

  “And I hold the end of it,” he added significantly. “If you try to call out, or to tell what I do not wish told, that collar will contract till it strangles you. Feel, it is contracting now.”

  Veronica felt something rigid grip her about the throat. The pressure steadily increased. She gasped and fought for air as the trachea closed. Then Lucas touched her forehead.

  “It has relaxed now,” he said, “but remember, this will happen again if ever you try to give me away.”

  Veronica drew in a great lungful of air and rose to her feet. She was too perplexed to feel frightened. Lucas was smiling at her pleasantly.

  “Go to bed now,” he said. “Sleep well, pleasant dreams. Ten o'clock to-morrow morning.”

  CHAPTER FIVE

  VERONICA WENT TO HER ROOM, BUT SLEEP WAS another matter. The events of the day had been so strange that her bewilderment was almost greater than her fear. If an event is far enough removed from the normal, one doubts the evidence of one's senses, the reliability of one's memory ; retrospectively, it takes on the appearance of phantasy rather than reality. To Veronica it seemed that she must have imagined the scuffle with Lucas—the extraordinary affair of the collar and chain. What motive could he possibly have in retaining a not very brilliant shorthand-typist against her will ? He had not attempted to make love to her, his touch had been by no manner of means a caress, in fact he had handled her as if she had been a recalcitrant puppy. And that extraordinary phantom collar and chain which appeared from nowhere at his touch and vanished again at the word of command ? They were the most tangible part of the whole affair ; Veronica had a very distinct remembrance of that strangulating pressure on her throat ; would that really occur if she tried to break away from Lucas ? Would she feel that awful tightening -that inability to breathe—if she attempted to appeal to others for help, to tell that which he did not wish to be told ? If so, then she were trapped indeed. And that curious chain, what would happen if she tried to run away ? Would it clank through the streets at her heels ? And if so surely someone would notice it.

  Utterly bewildered, she sat on her bed staring through the wide open window into the warm summer night. It was too late to try the experiment now, but she determined to arise at daybreak and slip out before the household were awake. Comforted by this thought Veronica began to undress, and the events of the evening retreated still further into the land of shadows as the little everyday details of disrobing brought her back to the workaday world where people do not chase each other down the stairs or ghostly chains materialize out of thin air. Then, as she was about to put the light out, the sense of reality returned with a rush—supposing what he had said were true—supposing she were bound by an invisible chain which would tighten and strangle her if she disobeyed Lucas—why, then, she was in his hands, body and soul. She could not run away, she could not cry out, and yet her bonds would be invisible, imperceptible to anyone but herself, and no one would believe her if she told them ; and even if she tried to tell them, Lucas's power would descend upon her, choking, strangling her, and she would be fighting for the air that she was powerless to draw into her lungs. She sat up in bed and with difficulty restrained herself from shrieking aloud at the horror of her invisible prison. She thought of the lions on the Mappin Terraces, and remembered her first impression of the house. She was indeed in a cage, a cage whose bars could not only prevent her egress but could cut her off from God's good air at the will of her master, and these bars were invisible. She could not claim the help or sympathy of her fellow beings. There, strangely enough, lay the worst horror, in her isolation from the understanding of her fellows ; she was as much alone in this world of men and women as if Lucas had transferred her to another planet. She had a notion that
Ashlott might understand, but she was quite sure he would not help ; but the policeman at the corner, the superintendent of the hostel, if she appealed to them for help would think she was insane, and yet that collar and chain were quite real enough to strangle her. The problem was beyond her solution. Despairingly she settled down upon the pillows to wait for dawn.

  Downstairs in the office Lucas was writing up his diary. A green-shaded lamp cast a circle of bright light on the desk and the rest of the room was in darkness. The events of the day had apparently been much to his liking, for a little smile curled his lips as he wrote.

  “Things came to a head this afternoon,” the neat small writing, clear as print, advanced along the lines of the book in front of him. “Had to put the cards on the table sooner than I expected, but: found V.M. very suggestible and got her well in hand, and do not anticipate any difficulty in putting her into a trance. Think she ought to do very well provided her body will hold together, but her physique is frail and she has been badly over-strained. Have told Mrs. Ashlott to feed her up well. Mrs. A. thinks I have a kind heart. V.M. tried to bolt. Chased her down stairs and carried her into the office where I suggested to her that I had put a collar and chain on her. She took the suggestion very well. Told her that the collar would strangle her if she tried to talk, and she nearly choked ; very curious, same mechanism as asthma. Shall have to be careful not to choke her altogether.”

  Lucas locked the book and put it away in his private safe. Yes, he had every reason to be satisfied with the day's work. He had backed his clairvoyance to enable him to pick out a potential psychic from the miscellaneous collection of women the secretarial agencies had sent him in response to his demand for a shorthand-typist, and it looked as if he had picked a winner. Veronica Mainwaring was certainly very sensitive, the only question was, would she be strong enough ? Trance work was a frightful strain, it .always told heavily on the men who acted as occult telephone when the lodges were communicating, and they took the work in relays ; he couldn't keep a fleet of secretaries to relieve one another, Veronica would have to do the lot. She would probably last his time, however ; all he wanted was the Words of Power ; given those, he would be independent. Yes, equipped with the Words of Power and General Sawberry's estate, life could have little more to offer Lucas. Well, he had got hold of a very promising trance medium and the General was ill again, so the caretaker had told Ashlott ; things certainly seemed propitious ; at any rate, he would have a look at his horoscope and see what foreboded.