e had been in the theatre. She saw blurred lights
flash past, and realised that the taxi was going at a good pace. She
rubbed the windows and tried to look out after a while. Then she
endeavoured to lower one, but without success. Suddenly she jumped up
and tapped furiously at the window to attract the driver's attention.
There was no mistaking the fact that they were crossing a bridge and it
was not necessary to cross a bridge to reach Fleet Street.

If the driver heard he took no notice. The speed of the car increased.
She tapped at the window again furiously. She was not afraid, but she
was angry. Presently fear came. It was when she tried to open the door,
and found that it was fastened from the outside, that she struck a
match to discover that the windows had been screwed tight--the edge of
the hole where the screw had gone in was rawly new, and the screw's head
was bright and shining.

She had no umbrella--she never carried one to the theatre--and nothing
more substantial in the shape of a weapon than a fountain pen. She could
smash the windows with her foot. She sat back in the seat, and
discovered that it was not so easy an operation as she had thought. She
hesitated even to make the attempt; and then the panic sense left her,
and she was her own calm self again. She was not being abducted. These
things did not happen in the twentieth century, except in sensational
books. She frowned. She had said almost the same thing to somebody that
day--to Mrs. Morgan, who had hinted at a romantic marriage. Of course,
nothing was wrong. The driver had called her by name. Probably the
editor wanted to see her at his home, he lived somewhere in South
London, she remembered. That would explain everything. And yet her
instinct told her that something unusual was happening, that some
unpleasant experience was imminent.

She tried to put the thought out of her mind, but it was too vivid, too
insistent.

Again she tried the door, and then, conscious of a faint reflected glow
on the cloth-lined roof of the cab, she looked backward through the
peep-hole. She saw two great motor-car lamps within a few yards of the
cab. A car was following, she glimpsed the outline of it as they ran
past a street standard.

They were in one of the roads of the outer suburbs. Looking through the
window over the driver's shoulder she saw trees on one side of the road,
and a long grey fence. It was while she was so looking that the car
behind shot s