grown man, Rocco," he said, "instead of a soft-hearted
boy, you would know that there is one form of murder that is always
found out--the trunk murder. And I want to say this to you," he
added with growing heat, "that if I hear one more word of rebellion
from you this prisoner will be alive some hours after you have
departed. Now, then, into the trunk with her."

Rocco sullenly helped the others in the grim task. The trunk, large as
it was, was not deep enough to permit Pauline a sitting posture, nor
long enough to prevent the painful cramping of her limbs. But she was
deadened to physical pain. With the words of her doom still ringing in
her ears--the calm discussion of her death--her terror was her
torture. The choking gag, the cutting bonds, the stifling trunk--in
which the knife of Wrentz had cut but a few air holes--these were as
nothing to the agony of her spirit--the agony of a lingering journey
toward a certain but mysterious end.

Pauline had been a prisoner before, had been through many and desperate
dangers, but her heart had never failed her utterly until she felt the
pressure of the trunk lid on her bent shoulders and heard the clamping
of the locks that bound her in.

She could still hear the voices.

"I'll go down and settle my bill and send up that porter," Wrentz was
saying. "Don't let him help with the trunk, except to run the
elevator. You're sure your car is at the side entrance--not out in
front?"

"Yes."

"I will meet you there."

Pauline had been so carefully bound that she could not stir in the
trunk. As she felt it lifted and carried rapidly through the corridor
to the hotel elevator she strained with all her might to make a noise
--to beat with hands or feet or even with her head, the sides of the
receptacle. But it was no use. She was carried through the hotel and
out to the side entrance without attracting attention.

She felt the trunk lifted over the men's heads, and the whirring of an
automobile told her that she was being placed in the machine.

"Well, you didn't care much for your pet room this time, Mr. Wrentz,"
smiled the clerk as Wrentz asked for his bill.

"Indeed I did, but a message has called me back to New York."

He paid his bill and hurried out to the big car in the back of which
Pauline's trunk had been placed. Springing to the wheel, he ordered
his followers in, and they drove away.

Once on suburban roads, Wrentz, either fearful of pursuit or drun