Twelve
After long aeons of unconsciousness, Tommy began to be aware of a fieryball swimming in space. In the centre of the fiery¹ ball was a core of pain,the universe shrank, the fiery ball swung more slowly—he discovered sud-denly that the nucleus² of it was his own aching head.
Slowly he became aware of other things—of cold cramped³ limbs, of hun-ger, of an inability to move his lips.
Slower and slower swung the fiery ball .?.?. It was now Thomas Beres-ford’s head and it was resting on solid ground. Very solid ground. In factsomething suspiciously like stone.
Yes, he was lying on hard stones, and he was in pain, unable to move,extremely hungry, cold and uncomfortable.
Surely, although Mrs. Perenna’s beds had never been unduly⁴ soft, thiscould not be—
Of course—Haydock! The wireless⁵! The German waiter! Turning in atthe gates of Sans Souci. .?.?.
Someone, creeping up behind him, had struck him down. That was thereason of his aching head.
And he’d thought he’d got away with it all right! So Haydock, after all,hadn’t been quite such a fool?
Haydock? Haydock had gone back into Smugglers’ Rest, and closed thedoor. How had he managed to get down the hill and be waiting for Tommyin the grounds of Sans Souci?
It couldn’t be done. Not without Tommy seeing him.
The manservant, then? Had he been sent ahead to lie in wait? Butsurely, as Tommy had crossed the hall, he had seen Appledore in the kit-chen of which the door was slightly ajar? Or did he only fancy he had seenhim? Perhaps that was the explanation.
Anyway it didn’t matter. The thing to do was to find out where he wasnow.
His eyes, accustomed to the darkness, picked out a small rectangle ofdim light. A window or small grating. The air smelt⁶ chilly⁷ and musty. Hewas, he fancied, lying in a cellar. His hands and feet were tied and a gag inhis mouth was secured by a bandage.
“Seems rather as though I’m for it,” thought Tommy.

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