f the roadway.

"Not a sign of the Chief," said the driver. "He must have gone back to
the garage with the Monk. But that's a fool idea. Let's get down there
right away."

The injured man's memory returned, and he rose stiffly to his feet.
He limped out of the Park, putting away the handkerchief, muttering
profanity and trying to fathom the mystery. As nearly as he could reason
it out, he must have been struck by another machine from the rear.

Far up in the northernmost driveway of the Park, where shrub grown banks
and rocky uplands shelter the thoroughfares, Shirley stopped his runaway
taxicab.

"Let me have his rubber coat, for I'm going to hide this car out on Long
Island. It's a long ride, but this man and his machine will disappear as
completely as though they had been dumped in the ocean."

Shirley manacled the prisoner, and gagged him with a tightly knotted
handkerchief. He put the greatcoat of Grimsby's about Helene's
shoulders, as he brought her to the front seat of the machine. Then he
shut the doors on the prisoner, and drove the automobile out through the
Easterly entrance of the park.

"I'm not really brave, Mr. Montague," said the tired voice at his side.
"I'm so glad I'm sitting by you, instead of back inside. We will be home
soon, won't we? I'm so exhausted--my first day in a strange country, you
know."

Shirley, with the skill of a racing expert, guided the machine through
the maze of streets toward the Bridge over the East River. The touch of
that sweet shoulder, as it unconsciously nestled against his own, sent
through him a tremor which he had not experienced during the weird
silent battle in the dark.

"A strange night, in a strange country. Are you sorry you tried it?"

With a sidelong glance, he caught the starry light in her eyes as she
looked up at him: there seemed more than the mere reflection of passing
street lamps.

"A wonderful night: I'm glad, so glad, not sorry," was her dreamy
response. She lapsed into silence as the somnolent drone of the motor
and the whirr of the wheels caused the tired eyes to close sleepily.

When he looked at her again, as they were speeding down the bridge
Plaza in Long Island City, she was dozing. The drowsy head touched
his shoulder; she seemed like a child, worn out with games, trustingly
asleep in the care of a big, strong brother.

CHAPTER XI. A TURN IN THE TRAIL

Helene was still asleep when Shirley stopped the engine of the taxi
b