THE STRAND MAGAZINE. 
another man, Hobray has good reason to 
hate you.” 
“ I admit it. I ruined him not once, but 
twice. But I did it 0" purpose. I loathe 
him — if possible more i ran he loathes me. 
If he were drowning in a pond, I would turn 
my back on him.” 
Brockman came up to the fireplace. 
“ I’ve never heard of that firm in Little 
Thames Street. How die you get into com- 
munication with them ? 5 ' 
“ By advertisement. .( advertised for a 
gorilla. For some days I had no reply. 
Then Hobray and Child wrote and offered 
their services.” 
“ In reply to your advertisement ? ” 
“ Of coursed 
Brockman looked across the room. The 
dim bulk of the great ape was visible in the 
cage, and he watched it for a moment. 
” Well, I must be off,” he said. ” I agree 
with you that even if it is Hobray I don't 
see what he can do. Unless ” 
He paused. An idea came to him, and he 
crossed the room and began to examine the 
cage carefully. 
“ What are you doing ? ” asked Hall. 
“ It occurred to me the cage might be 
insecure.” 
The two men looked at each other for a 
moment. 
“ Nonsense ! ” said Hall, but he had become 
a little pale. 
They could find nothing suspicious. The 
bars were sound. The bolts on the sliding 
door were strong and held down by catches. 
No animal could have undone them. 
Brockman laughed. 
“ It’s all right,” he said. “ It was only a 
fancy. Hobray wouldn’t do anything like 
that.” 
“ No. Hobray was always an arrant 
coward. He’d never do anything that was 
likely to be found out. He had a horror of 
being arrested. That scar on his forehead 
would always give him away.” 
Sir Clifford Hall rattled the bars of the cage. 
“ Good night, Sir Gorilla,” he cried. 
“ To-morrow you’ll be put in your permanent 
quarters, and if you don’t cheer up a bit 
I’ll have to feed you on port and minced 
chicken.” 
But the gorilla sat listlessly without moving. 
Hall waved his hand, switched off the lights, 
and followed his friend out of the room. 
After Brockman had gone off in his big motor, 
Sir Clifford smoked in his study for a few 
minutes and reflected upon the successes 
of the evening. Then recollecting he had a 
letter to write to catch the early morning 
post, he sat down at the writing-table. 
The study was a small room. The writing- 
table stood against the wall farthest from the 
dooi. Just to the right of it hung an oval 
mirror, so placed that anyone seated at the 
writing-table could see the door behind him 
reflected in it. 
Sir Clifford wrote for some time, for the 
letter was important. The house was quite 
silent. He had covered a couple of sheets, 
and was just reaching out his hand for a third 
sheet when his eye caught the mirror. 
He could see the reflection of the door dis- 
tinctly. He knew he had shut it. But now 
it was open, not very much, but sufficient to 
let him see the light from the hall outside. 
A narrow border of light was round its margin, 
and as he stared this border widened slowly. 
There was no doubt about it. The door was 
opening. 
He tried to turn in his chair, but the mirror 
held his eye. He could see a view of the hall 
now. But what was opening the door ? 
None of his servants would have come in like 
that. It could not be a current of air, for no 
draught could turn a handle. And almost 
before he saw he knew what it was, and fear 
struck him rigid. His mouth went dry and his 
tongue clave to the roof of his mouth, for 
looking round the corner of the door he 
saw the strange, narrow head of the great 
ape. 
Hall sat staring, with dropped jaw and 
hammering heart. He could not move. 
And then he saw a thing that almost made him 
mad on the spot. The hairy arm of the ape 
was stretched in through the door and one 
finger touched the electric light switch that 
was in the wall close by, and next moment the 
room was in darkness, for the door had shut. 
The gorilla was in the room. 
Hall, his senses sharpened acutely, heard 
a sound that again threatened to draw reason 
from his mind. 
The gorilla had turned the key and locked 
the door. 
Hall heard the click distinctly, and the 
faint snap as the lock went home. 
Then there was silence. Neither the man 
nor the beast stirred. But very gradually 
the power of movement came back to Hall, 
and with it the power of thinking swiftly. 
On the left side of the writing-table, let into 
the polished wood, was an electric button. 
He put out his hand in the darkness with 
infinite caution, and by accident touched the 
lid of the inkpot, which closed with a snap. 
He clenched his teeth and waited. Through 
