tic breakfast and the wandering
cigarettes. He stared as if hypnotised. Was he going mad? An instant
later he was on his hands and knees, examining the mysterious feast. She
joined him at once; no two faces ever before were so puzzled and
perplexed.

"By heaven!" he exclaimed, drawing her away from the spot in quick
alarm, comprehension flooding his brain. "I see it all! We've been
deliberately shanghaied! We've been bottled up here, drugged, perhaps,
and shipped out of town by fast freight--no destination. Don't touch
that stuff! It's probably full of poison. Great Scott! What a clever
gang they are! And what a blithering idiot they have in me to deal with.
Oh, how easy!"

Whereupon he proceeded to kick the unoffending breakfast, cigarettes and
all, out of the car door. To their dying day they were to believe that
the food had been put there by agents of the great conspirator. It
readily may be surmised that neither of them was given to sensible
deductions during their astounding flight. If they had thought twice,
they might have seen the folly of their quick conclusions. Marlanx's men
would not have sent Loraine off in a manner like this. But the
distracted pair were not in an analytical frame of mind just then; that
is why the gentle munificence of Sir Vagabond came to a barren waste.

Mile after mile flew by. The unwilling travellers, depressed beyond
description, had given up all hope of leaving the car until it reached
the point intended by the wily plotters. To their amazement, however,
the speed began to slacken perceptibly after they had left the city ten
or twelve miles behind. Truxton was leaning against the side of the
door, gloomily surveying the bright, green landscape. For some time
Loraine had been steadying herself by clinging to his arm. They had cast
off the unsightly rain coats and other clumsy articles. Once, through
sheer inability to control his impulses, he had placed his arm about her
slim waist, but she had gently freed herself. Her look of reproach was
sufficient to check all future impulses of a like nature.

"Hello!" said he, coming out of his bitter dream.

"We're slowing up." He looked out and ahead. "No station is in sight.
There's a bridge down the road a bit--yes, there's our same old river.
By George!" His face was a study.

"What is it?" she cried, struck by his sudden energy of speech.

"They're running slow for the bridge. Afraid of the floods. D'ye see? If
they creep up to