She dared not take the pin from her belt, for his eyes were upon her, and the dusk, though deepening, left sufficient light for him to observe her movements. "Now, look here," he said, speaking more roughly, "there's no Flossie here. You don't want me to take all the pins you have in your clothing, do you?" This suggestion, and the threatening tone of the man, frightened Iris more than all that had gone before. She was not afraid of physical violence, something in the man's manner precluded that, but she sensed his desperate determination to secure the pin, and she knew he would search her clothing for it, if she refused to hand it over. Also, she knew there was small use in trying to fool him. Since Stone had verified the fact that there was something about that special pin that made it of value, since this man had tried devious ways to get it, and since she was absolutely at his mercy, the outlook was pretty black. A vague hope that Fleming Stone would come to her rescue was not well founded, for how could he know that the car that carried her off had turned into that little woodland road? She thought of appealing to the manliness or better nature of her enemy, but she knew that he would only reply that if she would give him the pin he would not trouble her further. An idea of asking help from the man who was in the driver's seat of the car brought only the same conclusion. "Come, now," said Pollock, for it was by that name she thought of him. "I can't waste any more time. If you don't give me that pin in two seconds, I'll take it." "Don't you dare!" exclaimed Iris, trying the effect of sheer bravado. "Two seconds I'll give you, and they've passed. You needn't scream, for we're far from any habitation." He came nearer to her, and touched the frill that was about the neck of her gown. Iris was at her wits' end. She knew she would give up the pin rather than have him search her clothing for it, and yet, she meant to put off her surrender as long as possible. His own words gave her a hint, and though knowing it could do no good, she screamed loud and long. The sound infuriated the man, and he sprang at her, grasping her round the waist. "Stop that!" he cried, "Stop or I'll kill you!" His fingers were at her throat, and his frenzy was such that Iris feared he would carry out his threat on a sudden impulse. But the strangle-hold he had on her brought his body near hers, and by chance Iris' hand was flung against his side coat pocket, where she felt what was indubitably an automatic pistol. Pretending to faint, she let her head sink backward, and he involuntarily put his hand back of her neck to support her. With a quick motion she snatched the pistol from his pocket without his knowledge. Exultant, and feeling herself safe, Iris commanded him to release her. He only laughed, and she whispered faintly, "Let me go, and I'll----"