The officer noted carefully his description of the woman who had assisted in the kidnaping and such meager facts as he was able to give as to the man who had carried off the little girl under the very eyes of her mother. The sergeant glanced at Archie's ruddy handkerchief and grinned. "Guess that let's you out! You didn't get the number of the taxi? That would help a little." "There wasn't time for that. I was trying to hang on till help came, but this smash in the face spoiled that." To the jostling crowd anxious to hear his story Archie was a hero, or very nearly one. He heard their murmurs of admiration as he described the manner in which he had attempted to board the car. There were enormous hazards in the whole situation and every consideration of personal security demanded that he leave the park at once, but Mrs. Congdon was now recovering, and he was reluctant to abandon her and the frightened boy to the mercies of the park police and staring spectators. She had recovered sufficiently to tell her story, and to Archie's relief corroborated his own version in a manner to dispose of any question as to his innocence. The woman's composure struck Archie as remarkable and her replies to the officer's questions were brief and exact. Several times she appealed to him for confirmation on some point, and he edged closer and stood beside her defensively. Her inquisitor had neglected to ask her name and address in his eagerness for information as to the appearance of the kidnapers. Her reply gave Archie a distinct shock. "Mrs. George W. Kendall, 117 E. Corning Street, Brooklyn." "Have you been threatened in any way? Have you any enemy who might have attempted to steal the child?" "Nothing of the kind. I brought the children to the park just for an outing and with no thought that anything so horrible could happen." It was incredible that any one could lie with so convincing an air. He was satisfied that she was Mrs. Putney Congdon, and that the child she had called Edith was the original of the photograph he had seen at Bailey Harbor. And the stealing of the child was in itself but the actual carrying out of her husband's threat. He knew far too much about the Congdons for his own peace of mind, but he was unwilling to desert her in her perplexities. When the owners of several machines offered to take her home, she glanced about uncertainly and her eyes falling upon him seemed to invite his assistance. "Pardon me, but if I can serve you in any way--" "Thank you," she said with relief. "I must get away from this; it's unbearable." He put her and the boy into a taxi, whose driver had been early on the scene, and drove away with them, with a final promise to the sergeant to report later at the park station. "Brooklyn!" he ordered. For a few minutes she was busy comforting the child and Archie deep in thought turned to meet the searching gaze of her gray eyes. "You are a gentleman; I am sure of that; and I feel that I can trust you."