To-day-- Carl presently took the singular metal contrivance from his pocket, deftly clamped the fingers of his victim and sat down to wait, rummaging for his flute.
The tension snapped.
Choking, Kronberg fell forward at his jailer's feet, his eyes imploring.
"Mercy," he whispered.

"I--I can not bear it." "Then you will answer what I ask ?" "Yes." Carl unsnapped the infernal finger-stretcher and dropped it in his pocket.
"Come," said he not unkindly and led his weak and staggering prisoner to a room in the west wing where a log fire was blazing brightly in the fireplace.
With a moan Kronberg broke desperately away from his grasp and flung himself violently upon his knees by the fire, stretching his arms out pitifully to the blaze and chattering and moaning like a thing demented.

Carl walked away to the window.
Presently the man by the fire crept humbly to a chair, a broken creature in the clutch of fever, eyes and skin unnaturally bright.
"Here," said Carl, pouring him some brandy from a decanter on the table.

"Sit quietly for a while and close your eyes.

Are you better now ?" he asked a little later.
"Yes," said Kronberg faintly.
"What is your real name ?" "Themar." "When you took service with my aunt in the spring, you were looking for a certain paper ?" "Yes." "Did you find it during your ten days in the town-house ?" "No." "How did you discover its whereabouts ?" "One night I watched you replace it in a secret drawer in your room.
Before I could obtain it, the house was closed for the summer and I was dismissed.