"The plan of procedure must be as follows: At eight-thirty a roadster, containing only the driver and marked by a handkerchief fastened to the windshield, must leave the village of North Cresson by the Cresson turnpike, at a rate of speed not exceeding fifteen miles an hour. It must proceed eastward along the pike for a distance of ten miles. Somewhere during this run a car will pass it and from its tonneau flash an electric lantern twice. Follow this car. Make no attempt to hail or to overtake it. It will turn from the main road and proceed for some distance. When it stops the driver of the roadster must alight, place the money at a spot indicated, and submit, without parley, to being bound and gagged. When this is done the child will be left beside him. If agreed to insert following personal in _The Daily Record_ of Saturday morning: 'James, meet you at the time and place specified. Tom.’ "(Signed) _Clansmen_." The letter fluttered to the desk and Suzanne sank into a chair. Larkin looked at her; his glance showed some anxiety but his voice was hearty and encouraging: "Well, you agree, of course?" She nodded, swallowing on a throat too dry for speech. He picked up the letter and ran a frowning eye over it: "It simply confirms what I thought—old hands. It’s about as secure as such a thing could be. I don’t see a loose end." She made no answer and he went on still studying the paper: "I’m not familiar with this country, but they wouldn’t have picked it out unless it offered every chance of escape." "Escape!" she breathed. "They’ve _got_ to escape." It made him smile, the eye he turned on her showed a quizzical amusement: "You’re almost talking like an accomplice, Mrs. Price." But he quickly grew grave as he met her tragic glance. "Pardon me, I shouldn’t have said that, but the fact is, with the climax in sight, I’m a bit on edge myself." Then with a brusque change of tone, "Do you know this section of Long Island?" "Yes, well—I’ve driven over it often." "Am I right in thinking there are numbers of roads leading from the Cresson Turnpike?" "Lots of them, to the Sound and inland." "Umph!" he threw the letter on the desk and sat down, "I don’t think you need worry about their getting away. Now we must settle this up and then I’ll go out and have the ad inserted. We’ve got to hustle—they’ve only given us a little over twenty-four hours." She looked dazedly at him and murmured: "What have we got to do?" "Why—" he was very gentle as to a stupid and bewildered child—"we have to arrange about this car—our car, the one that gets the signal." "We can hire it, can’t we?" "Well, we could hire the car, but the driver—we can’t very well hire him. He must be some one upon whom we can rely." She stared at him, her eyes dilating: "Yes, yes, of course. I’d forgotten that."