When Johnnie returned from a telephone call at the office two hours later, Kitty had a suspicion he was up to something. He bubbled mystery so palpably that her curiosity was piqued. But the puncher for once was silent as a clam. He did not intend to get Kitty into trouble if his plan miscarried. Moreover, he had an intuition that if she knew what was under way she would put her small, competent foot through the middle of the project. The conspirators arranged details. Johnnie was the brains of the kidnaping. Clay bought the tickets and was to take charge of the prisoner after the train was reached. They decided it would be best to get a stateroom for the girl. "We wantta make it as easy as we can for her," said Johnnie. "O' course it's all for her own good, but we don't figure to treat her noways but like the princess she is." "Yes," agreed Clay humbly. According to programme, carefully arranged by Johnnie, Beatrice rode down to the train with him and Kitty in their taxicab. She went on board for the final good-byes and chatted with them in their section. The chief conspirator was as easy as a toad in a hot skillet. Now that it had come down to the actual business of taking this young woman with them against her will, he began to weaken. His heart acted very strangely, but he had to go through with it. "C-can I see you a minute in the next car, Miss Beatrice?" he asked, his voice quavering. Miss Whitford lifted her eyebrows, but otherwise expressed no surprise. "Certainly, Johnnie." "What do you want to see Miss Whitford about, Johnnie?" his spouse asked. There were times when Kitty mistrusted Johnnie's judgment. She foresaw that he might occasionally need a firm hand. "Oh, nothin' much. Tell you about it later, honey." The kidnaper mopped the perspiration from his forehead. At that moment he wished profoundly that this brilliant idea of his had never been born. He led the way down the aisle into the next sleeper and stopped at one of the staterooms. Shakily he opened the door and stood aside for her to pass first. "You want me to go in here?" she asked. "Yes'm." Beatrice stepped in. Johnnie followed. Clay rose from the lounge and said, "Glad to see you, Miss Whitford." "Did you bring me here to say good-bye, Johnnie?" asked Beatrice. The Runt's tongue stuck to the root of his mouth, His eyes appealed dumbly to Clay. "Better explain to Miss Whitford," said Clay, passing the buck. "It's for yore good, Miss Beatrice," stammered the villain who had brought her. "We--we--I--I done brought you here to travel home with us." "You--what?" Before her slender, outraged dignity Johnnie wilted. "Kitty, she--she can chaperoon you. It's all right, ma'am. I--we--I didn't go for to do nothin' that wasn't proper. We thought--" "You mean that you brought me here expecting me to go along with you--without my consent--without a trunk--without--"