After she had been employed at the Clarkes’ a few days and had taken little Marion to the Park the first time, Mrs. Barrow had consulted with the nurse and instructed her to be ready for the abduction on the next excursion. Bella Anderson said she had suffered many qualms and been unable to bring herself to the deed for several visits. Each time Mrs. Barrow met her in the Park and was ready to flee with the little girl. Finally the nurse reached the point of yielding. Sunday noon she found Mrs. Barrow waiting for her, as usual. They left the baby’s cart at the rest room, carried the child to a remote place, changed its coat and cap, and then set out at once for South Brooklyn, where they took the room from Mrs. Cosgriff. This matter attended to, the women exchanged clothes, and Mrs. Barrow returned to Manhattan, gave the note to the boy, and turned back to Brooklyn. The next morning she had seen the headlines in the newspapers, realized that the game was dangerous, and set out quickly for Sloatsburg, where the farmhouse had been rented in advance by Barrow. Two days later Bella Anderson had been sent away because the Barrows felt she was being too hotly sought and might be recognized in the neighborhood. This story was readily confirmed, though the Barrows naturally sought to shield themselves. It was also discovered that Mrs. Barrow had been an Addie McNally, born and reared in up-State New York, and that she, with her husband, had once owned a small printing establishment, thus explaining the chirographical characteristics of the Clarke abduction note. She was about twenty-five years old, shrewd, capable and not unattractive. Investigation brought out romantic and pathetic facts concerning the husband. He had apparently had no better employment in New York than that of motorman in the hire of an electric cab company then operating in that city. But this derelict was the son of distinguished parents. His father was Judge John C. Barrow of the superior court of Little Rock, Arkansas, and the descendant of other persons politically well known in the South. George Beauregard Barrow--his middle name being that of the famous Confederate commander at the first battle of Bull Run or Manassas, to whom distant relationship was claimed--had been incorrigible from childhood. In early manhood he had been connected with kidnapping threats and plots in his home city and with assaults on his enemies, with the result that he was finally sent away, cut off and told to make his own berth in the world. Judge Barrow tried to aid his unfortunate son at the trial, but public feeling was too sorely aroused.