"Good Heavens!" Lady Leason gasped. The Bishop's round, short-sighted eyes were still more prominent, his mouth open.
"How very unpleasant!" he observed.
"It was." McTaggart's voice was emphatic. "I saw at once it was a trap. Nobody knew where I was, and I hadn't the faintest idea myself. I stood there with my back to the door, trying to keep my wits about me.
"Then from the other side of the room came a second voice, also a man's. He said slowly, in Italian:
"'If you move an inch—you're a dead man.' So there were two of them!—That settled it. I guessed that both of them were armed, and there I was, in evening dress without so much as a pocket knife!
"'Take off your clothes, one by one,' said the first voice in broken English—'and lay them before you on the floor—together with your money and watch.'
"Well—I did it!" McTaggart scowled—the memory still had power to rouse him. "No earthly good showing fight—it was pitch dark and they knew where I stood.
"'You can keep your boots'—the speaker laughed—'and here's a paper'—he pitched it across—'it's a warm night—you won't catch cold!'
"Hope returned to me at that. For I didn't expect to get out alive. Well—after a minute a match flared, and was promptly blown out. I caught a glimpse of dark figures to right and left and then I felt a hand grip my arm.
"'Straight ahead'—We crossed the room, and this was the hardest part of all! I was simply dying to go for the brute, but the odds were more than two to one. So I set my teeth and swore to myself—feeling—well—rather a fool! He opened a door—not the one we had come by—and said: