Seizing a towel from the shelf in the closet, he quickly tied it over the woman’s mouth, then closed the closet door and locked it, removing the key. Knowing that he had no time to lose, and apprehending that others might return to the house at any moment, Chick then hurried through a narrow adjoining hall and up two flights of stairs, all the while with eyes and ears alert, and his revolver ready for instant use. There was no one to oppose him, however, and half a minute brought him to the door of the attic room. It was closed and locked, but a key hung on a nail in the casing. As he removed it, a girlish voice from within the room cried affrightedly: “Who’s there?” Chick recognized the voice, and his face lighted. He flung open the door and entered, saying heartily: “I’m here, Mrs. Clayton, and I’ll bet you’re glad to see me.” The scene that met his gaze was about what he was expecting. Lying on a rude bed, to which she had been tied with strips of cord, was the abducted girl the detectives were seeking, still clad in her traveling costume, with her hat, gloves, and veil on a chair near by. Chick Carter could never forget the swift change that came over her anxious, distressful white face when she beheld him. It brightened with mingled gratitude, joy, and relief that could not be expressed in words. A cry broke from her, then his familiar name, and then she gave way to hysterical weeping, which she at first could not govern. Chick hastened to liberate her, however, and told her the danger of needless delay; and the thought of further peril served most to calm her and nerve her to immediate action. “Oh, I am equal to anything, Mr. Carter, to escape from this dreadful place and that terrible man,” she cried, seizing her hat and rising to accompany him. “Don’t be alarmed. We shall accomplish it,” Chick assured her, while he assisted her down the narrow stairway from the attic. “God grant it!” she cried, still sobbing. “Oh, how can I ever repay you?” “Don’t speak of that. Tell me, instead, how Margate contrived to lure you from the house last night,” Chick added, aiming to divert her mind from the immediate situation. “I was deceived, terribly deceived,” replied Clara, complying while they continued to pick their way down the stairs. “I had seen no stranger enter my husband’s room. I saw him suddenly come out, however, or supposed it was he, and hasten into mine.” “I understand,” Chick nodded. “He was putting on his overcoat and hat,” Clara continued. “He said I must go with him at once, that he had planned to elude our guests, that he had our limousine in the road through the east park, and that my father was awaiting us in it.” “That was the way it was done, eh?” “How could I doubt, or distrust him,” she went on. “He had come from my husband’s room. I went with him willingly, of course, and----” “That was perfectly natural, Mrs. Clayton, under the circumstances,” Chick put in, as they descended the lower stairway.