The Secret Adversary

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conscious of nothing but an excruciating pain through his temples. He
was vaguely aware of unfamiliar surroundings. Where was he? What had
happened? He blinked feebly. This was not his bedroom at the Ritz. And
what the devil was the matter with his head?

"Damn!" said Tommy, and tried to sit up. He had remembered. He was in
that sinister house in Soho. He uttered a groan and fell back. Through
his almost-closed lids he reconnoitred carefully.

"He is coming to," remarked a voice very near Tommy's ear. He recognized
it at once for that of the bearded and efficient German, and lay
artistically inert. He felt that it would be a pity to come round too
soon; and until the pain in his head became a little less acute, he felt
quite incapable of collecting his wits. Painfully he tried to puzzle out
what had happened. Obviously somebody must have crept up behind him as
he listened and struck him down with a blow on the head. They knew
him now for a spy, and would in all probability give him short shrift.