The general’s desire to explain was superseded by a still greater desire to get away. The grim faces of the two men impressed him with the gravity of the event. If they were to escape, now was the time, when the forces of the enemy were divided, but there was his car. He could not leave that behind and the man in the road was a fairly good reason for him to remain where he was and make no attempt to reach it. Batchelor had put up a clever bluff, but it had been called, and they had to sit there until the return of the other man, when they would be exposed, for of course the key wouldn’t fit. That second man was a stubborn brute. The Lord had made mules. He didn’t intend men to be. The general turned irritably and glanced at the Watermelon, lolling gracefully in his seat and humming a ridiculous little song between airy puffs of his cigarette. Henrietta repressed a wild wish to scream aloud. Never, never again would she go into another man’s house unless expressly asked to do so by the owner. She glanced behind, up the hill, toward the house. Alphonse and his captor had just come into sight again and were returning through the field. Henrietta breathed heavily. This was awful. When the two reached the stone wall, she hoped she would faint. She knew she wouldn’t, she never fainted. She turned around that she might not see them. Nothing could be done, apparently, but simply wait for the hand of the law to fall upon them. The Watermelon had made a good guess as to the children, it seemed; why hadn’t he been content to let it go at that? Why had he hauled out that useless key? She had ceased to feel, to think. She looked at Billy. Billy was frozen dumb. This was the end. Bartlett glanced at the man in the road and tried to figure his price. The Watermelon turned carelessly and spoke to Henrietta. "That was a pretty bird up there. Did you see it?" "Yes," said Henrietta automatically, though she had seen no bird. She heard the two men now right behind the car and she sank back limply. All was over. "Well?" queried the Watermelon. "By gum," admitted the man with the key. "It fits." *CHAPTER XIII* *ONLY TO BE LOST* Bartlett grinned and removed his hat to wipe his brow. The general strove not to show a guilty surprise, Billy giggled and Henrietta began to live again. The Watermelon held out his hand. "My key, please. Kindly remove that piece of artillery from the road and we will go on." The man, covered with perspiration and embarrassment, handed back the key. "When the Browns come back, shall we tell them you called?" "Certainly," said the general pompously, and in the exuberance of the reaction, he drew a half dollar from his pocket and handed it to the fellow. "Kindly give that to Dick," said he with the benevolence of a grandfather. Billy waved to the crestfallen two and Henrietta gave them a gracious, forgiving bow.