"That's the safest way," said the operative, "and now we'll tie their feet to the foot rest--Parkins in front, by himself, and the woman and the chauffeur on the rear seat. I'll drive the car back to New York. Updyke will be waiting for them, all right enough!" When the job was completed, the curtains were drawn and the doors locked from outside. Then the Updyke operative mounted the chauffeur's seat and headed the car toward the west. Carver now helped the girl to mount his wheel, and then jumped into the saddle in front of her. "Hold on to me tight--we're going to speed some!" said he, gaily, then he shot in the gas, and they were off for Riverhead, the limousine trailing in the dust close behind. For a time the male prisoners eyed each other in sheepish fashion, but Mrs. Duke cried bitterly as the car skipped along. With her arms behind her she had no means of wiping the tear-drops that plowed ridges through the dust on her face. "I don't see how I ever got into this dreadful affair!" she moaned. "Shut up!" shouted Parkins sharply. "They can't do anything with us. That would ruin the girl's reputation." "But that man Updyke!--how did you ever conceive the idea that you could frustrate that brute's plans?" "What do you know about him?" snapped Parkins. "I've seen him, and that's enough! Oh, such a face!--such strength of purpose!--such----" "Cut it out I tell you--or you will lose your chance, as a woman, to say that you had no thought of breaking the law. The girl and I were eloping and you were along as a friend. Do you get that?" "You are so wonderful, Mr. Parkins--indeed you are," sighed Mrs. Duke, as her tears slackened. "I knew it the moment I saw you, all bruised and torn. Certainly she was eloping with you, and now I remember how sweetly she talked about you as we walked along the beach. You had always been so kind to her father, and all that." "See that you don't forget it," replied Parkins, already planning his way to freedom. "And also remember this--that when she was seized by these men, and we were arrested like kidnappers, I was taking her to one of the swellest country clubs in the land. We were to be married there, and you were to be the witness--see?" Parkins' eyes flashed, and his lips curled into a cruel smile as he thought of the revenge he would take upon Villard and the girl, if called to the witness stand. How the reporters would enjoy it! And how Villard's face would burn with shame as lawyers for the defense drove home his crazy notions about spiritual communications! The thought almost made him happy. At Riverhead telephoning was in order. The car containing the prisoners was, by Updyke's order, to be driven through to New York and the culprits brought to his office. The girl, Winifred, would await the arrival of Villard's car at Yaphank, Carver gladly agreeing to convey her that far, changing to his runabout at Riverhead--thus adding to her comfort until she would meet up with her friends.