“Well, Desmond!” said Strangwise, when their burden had been deposited on the floor under the crimson lamp.
“Well, Maurice?” answered the other.
Strangwise noticed that Desmond had addressed him by his Christian name for the first time since he had been in the house and his voice was more friendly when he spoke again.
“I see you’re going to be sensible, old man,” he said. “Believe me, it’s the only thing for you to do. You’re going to give up the Star of Poland, aren’t you?”
“Oh, no, Maurice, I’m not,” replied Desmond in a frank, even voice. “I’ve told you what I’m going to do. I’m going to hand you over to the people at Pentonville to hang as a murderer. And I shouldn’t be at all surprised if they didn’t run up old Bellward there alongside of you!”
Strangwise shook his head at him.
“You are very ill-advised to reject my offer, Desmond,” he said, “for it simply means that I can do nothing more for you. Our friend Bellward now assumes the direction of affairs. I don’t think you can realize what you are letting yourself in for. You appear to have been dabbling in Intelligence work. Perhaps it would interest you to hear something about this, our latest German method for extracting accurate information from reluctant or untruthful witnesses. Bellward, perhaps you would enlighten him.”
Bellward smiled grimly.
“It is a blend,” he explained glibly, “of that extreme form of cross-examination which the Americans call ‘the third degree’ and hypnotic treatment. Many people, as you are doubtless aware, are less responsive to hypnotic influence than others. An intensified course of the third degree and lack of sleep renders such refractory natures extraordinarily susceptible to mesmeric treatment. It prepares the ground as it were!”
Bellward coughed and looked at Desmond over his tortoise-shell spectacles which he had put on again.