uise from her reflections. Arthur not
here yet? Voices were calling outside; vehicles were noisily leaving
their positions on the boat to clatter across the platforms. But there
was no sign of Arthur.

Again Louise tried to find the speaking tube. Then she made an endeavor
to open the door, although just then the car started with a jerk that
flung her back against the cushions.

The knowledge that she had been grossly deceived by her conductor at
last had the effect of arousing the girl to a sense of her danger.
Something must be wrong. Something _was_ decidedly wrong, and fear crept
into her heart. She pounded on the glass windows with all her strength,
and shouted as loudly as she could, but all to no avail.

Swiftly the limousine whirled over the dusky road and either her voice
could not be heard through the glass cage in which she was confined or
there was no one near who was willing to hear or to rescue her.

She now realized how wrong she had been to sit idly during the trip
across the ferry, where a score of passengers would gladly have assisted
her. How cunning her captors had been to lull her fears during that
critical period! Now, alas, it was too late to cry out, and she had no
idea where she was being taken or the reason of her going.

Presently it occurred to her that this was not Arthur's limousine at
all. There was no speaking tube for one thing. She leaned forward and
felt for the leathern pocket in which she kept a veil and her street
gloves. No pocket of any sort was to be found.

An unreasoning terror now possessed her. She knew not what to fear, yet
feared everything. She made another attempt to cry aloud for help and
then fell back unconscious on the cushions.

How long she lay in the faint she did not know. When she recovered the
limousine was still rattling forward at a brisk gait but bumping over
ruts in a manner that indicated a country road.

Through the curtains she could see little but the black night, although
there was a glow ahead cast by the searchlights of the car. Louise was
weak and unnerved. She had no energy to find a way to combat her fate,
if such a way were possible. A dim thought of smashing a window and
hurling herself through it gave her only a shudder of repulsion. She
lacked strength for such a desperate attempt.

On, on, on. Would the dreary journey never end? How long must she sit
and suffer before she could know her fate, or at least find some
explanation of the