rifle and waved for the driver to stop. But he did
not stop. Kurt heard a scream. He saw a white face. He saw the driver
swing his hand across that white face, dashing it back.

"Halt!" yelled Kurt, at the top of his lungs.

But the driver hunched down and put on the power. The red car leaped. As
it flashed by Kurt recognized Nash and Anderson's daughter. She looked
terrified. Kurt dared not shoot, for fear of hitting the girl. Nash
swerved, took the narrow space left him, smashing the right front wheel
of Kurt's car, and got by.

Kurt stepped aside and took a quick shot at the tire of Nash's left hind
wheel. He missed. His heart sank and he was like ice as he risked
another. The little high-power bullet struck and blew the tire off the
wheel. Nash's car lurched, skidded into the bank not thirty yards away.

With a bound Kurt started for it, and he was there when Nash had twisted
out of his seat and over the door.

"Far enough! Don't move!" ordered Kurt, presenting the rifle.

Nash was ghastly white, with hunted eyes and open mouth, and his hands
shook.

"Oh it's--Kurt Dorn!" cried a broken voice.

Kurt saw the girl fumble with the door on her side, open it, and stagger
out of his sight. Then she reappeared round the car. Bareheaded,
disheveled, white as chalk, with burning eyes and bleeding lips, she
gazed at Kurt as if to make sure of her deliverance.

"Miss Anderson--if he's harmed you--" broke out Kurt, hoarsely.

"Oh!... Don't kill him!... He hasn't touched me," she replied, wildly.

"But your lips are bleeding."

"Are they?" She put a trembling hand to them. "He--he struck me....
That's nothing... But you--you have saved me--from God only knows what!"

"I have! From him?" demanded Kurt. "What is he?"

"He's a German!" returned Lenore, and red burned out of the white of her
cheeks. "Secret agent--I.W.W.!... Plotter against my father's life!...
Oh, he knocked father off the car--dragged him!... He ran the car
away--with me--forced me back--he struck me!... Oh, if I were a man!"

Nash responded with a passion that made his face drip with sweat and
distort into savage fury of defeat and hate.

"You two-faced cat!" he hissed. "You made love to me! You fooled me! You
let me--"

"Shut up!" thundered Kurt. "You German dog! I can't murder you, because
I'm American. Do you get that? But I'll beat you within an inch of your
life!"

As Kurt bent over to lay down the rifle, Nash darted a hand into the
se