Steps were at the laundry door. In an agony of terror Antony dragged the girl into a back room, and hardly knowing what he did, beckoned her up a narrow, dingy stair. Like shadows they fled up it, and crouched at its head listening to the tramping feet of what was evidently a group of men: young men from their tone and manner. "It's perfectly clear," began the unmistakable voice of Williamson, "they are, of course, that same couple that got off with three big touring cars last season. It's their specialty. The man drives like a demon, and the woman is the coolest little devil that ever walked. They have Amory's car, they got the clothes, and by coming so late they actually put the thing through. I hope no jewelry is gone, but we mustn't alarm the guests at any cost--Emily would never forgive us." "The woman is marked--I know all the bridesmaids now, and I shall make it my business to locate the eighth. Harvey, will you stay with the presents? Ritch, like a fool, refused to have a detective." "What did he look like, Williamson?" some one demanded. "Kick me, if you want to, Harvey, I couldn't tell to save my life I--I was so excited, and he was so decent about it--he's just like anybody else. And I'm the only one that said a word to him-- it's maddening! We'll have to let him go--we can't grab every man we see, and nobody knows who half these people are. But watch the dining-room. Amory ought to be here any minute. He's nearly crazy, I suppose." "Oh, I don't know," drawled a third voice. "If his precious Gertrude is with him, what's a scarf pin more or less to Ammy?" "Nevertheless, I'm sorry for the man that took that car," said Williamson curtly, and Antony bit his lip nervously on the stairs as he listened to the low murmur of assent that followed. "Well, don't let us stay here all night," Williamson began again fussily. "Grab some of these damned wreaths, you fellows, and see if we can get them up to the house without sitting down in them!" They bustled out, arguing over the best methods of tracking down their victims, who cowered miserably above them. Fear, insensate, reasonless fear, had laid his quivering, livid fingers on their shoulders, and chilled the blood in their veins. To get away-- to get away, at any cost! Antony, stooping over the crouching figure by his side, whispered in her ear: "I'll step down and look about a bit. There must be some way--I'll get you a coat somewhere and we can slip out. Wait here." All was empty and silent in the laundry, but as he stopped a moment behind the door before peering out, a hand knocked gently on it and a boy's voice questioned softly. "Are ye' there, then? Are ye, sir?" Instinctively and before he could catch back the word, Antony whispered hoarsely: "Yes!"