These worthies were out. The proprietor said they had hired a car and gone to Bridgeport. Miss Craik could only wait, and she sat in the lobby, prim and quiet, the picture of resignation, not betraying by a look or gesture the passions of anger, apprehension, and impatience which raged in her breast. Voles did not come. An hour passed; eight struck, then nine. Once the word "carousing"! passed Miss Rachel's lips with an intense bitterness; but, on the whole, she sat with a stiff back, patient as stone. Then after ten there came the hum and whir of an automobile driven at high speed through the rain-sodden main street. It stopped outside the inn. A minute later the gallant body of Voles entered, cigar in his mouth, and a look of much champagne in his eyes. "What, Rachel, girl, you here!" he said in his offhand way. "Are you sober?" asked Rachel, rising quickly. "Sober? Never been really soused in my life! What's up?" He dropped a huge paw roughly on her shoulder, and her hard eyes softened as she looked at his face and splendid frame, for Ralph "Voles" was Rachel Craik's one weakness. "What's the trouble?" he went on, seeing that her lips were twitching. "You should have been here," she snapped. "Everything may be lost. A man is down here after Winifred, and I've caught her talking to him in secret." "A cop?" and Voles glanced around the otherwise deserted lobby. "I don't know--most probably. Or he may be that same man who was walking with her on Wednesday night in Central Park. Anyway, this afternoon he tried to hand her a note in offering her a newspaper. The note fell, and I saw it. Afterward he managed to get it to her in some way, though I never for a moment let her out of my sight; and they met about seven o'clock behind the church." "The little cat! She beat you to it, Rachel!" "There is no time for talk, Ralph. That man will take her from us, and then woe to you, to William, to us all. Things come out; they do, they do--the deepest secrets! Man, man--oh, rouse yourself, sober yourself, and act! We must be far from this place before morning." "No more trains from here--" "You could hire a car for your own amusement. Rush her off in that. Snatch her away to Boston. We may catch a liner to-morrow." "But we can't have her seeing us!" "We can't help that. It is dark; she won't see your face. Let us be gone. We must have been watched, or how could that man have found us out? Ralph! Don't you understand? You must do something." "Where's this spy you gab of? I'll--" "This is not the Mexican border. You can't shoot here. The man is not the point, but the girl. She must be gotten away at once." "Nothing easier. Off, now to the hotel, and be ready in half an hour. I'll bring the car around."