"Won't you please make this driver understand that he is taking me to the wrong place?" she said with a pleasant smile. "I must get back to an office two or three blocks away from the Treasury Building somewhere. I must turn back at once or I shall miss my appointment and be late for my train. It is quite important. Tell him, please, I will pay him well if he will get me back at once." The stranger turned with an oily smile. "That's all right, Miss. He isn't making any mistake. We're taking you right to Secretary Baker's country home. He sent for your man, Mr.---- What's his name? I forget. Barnard? Oh, yes. He sent for Mr. Barnard to come out there, sent his private car down for him; and Mr. Barnard, he left orders we should go after you and bring you along. It's something they want to change in those notes you was taking. There was a mistake, and the Secretary he wanted to look after the matter himself." Shirley sat back with a sudden feeling of weakness and a fear she might faint, although she had never done such a thing in her life. She was not deceived for an instant now, although she saw at once that she must not let the man know it. The idea that Secretary Baker would pause in the midst of his multiplicity of duties to look into the details of a small article of manufacture was ridiculous! It was equally impossible that Mr. Barnard would have sent strangers after her and let her be carried off in this queer way. He had been most particular that she should be looked after carefully. She was horribly to blame that she had allowed herself to be carried back at all until Mr. Barnard himself appeared; and yet, was she? That surely had been the page from the office who came with the message? Well, never mind, she was in for it now, and she must do her best while there was any chance to do anything. She must drop all those postals somehow, and she must hide those notes somewhere, and perhaps write some others,--fake ones. What should she do first? "Father, help me! Show me! Oh, don't let me lose the notes! Please take care of me!" Again and again her heart prayed as her hand worked stealthily in her bag, while she tried to put a pleasant smile upon her face and pretend she was still deceived, leaning forward and speaking to the strange man once more: "Is Secretary Baker's home much farther from here?" she asked, feeling her lips draw stiffly in the frozen smile she forced. "Will it take long?" "'Bout ten minutes!" the man answered graciously, with a peculiar look toward the driver. "Nice view 'round here!" he added affably with a leering look of admiration toward her. Shirley's heart stood still with new fear, but she managed to make her white lips smile again and murmur, "Charming!"