They ran the boat ashore in a sheltered cove a few miles from Norwalk. It was broad daylight now, and the rascals feared that their movements might be observed and themselves stopped and questioned. They had taken so many risks that it would have been most galling to lose their prize now. “Moses,” said Mackrell, “are you sure we are at the right place?” “Of course I am,” replied the Jew. “Do you see that house yonder, among the trees--the yellow house with the green blinds?” “Yes.” “Well, Sophie lives there,” said Moses. It was a neat cottage to which Hilton Field was conducted, and so innocent were its exterior and surroundings that the passer-by would most certainly scoff at the suspicion that it was anything else but what it looked--a gentleman’s country residence. Romping on the lawn were three fine-looking children, and they did not even discontinue their play when the party walked down the broad avenue to the house. Seated in the parlor, a lady, in the prime of life, but still beautiful, listlessly turned over the leaves of a classical work, while at a piano opposite her was a young lady, evidently her daughter, drumming the keys in a careless fashion. The bell was rung in a peculiar manner, and at its sound the young woman left the room. The lady tossed her book upon a table, just as the parlor door opened, and Mackrell and the others were ushered in. “So, this is our banker friend,” said the woman, who was addressed by her visitors as Sophie, inclining her head toward Mr. Field. “Oh, lady,” said the wretched captive, “you are a woman; you will have pity on me and save me from these ruffians.” “Ruffians! What ruffians? you surely do not mean those gentlemen who are with you?” remarked Sophie. “You are tired; I will excuse you this time for speaking so disrespectfully of my friends.” She touched a silver gong that stood on the piano, and told the servant, an ill-looking colored man, to bring some brandy and wine. “You will have wine, I know,” Sophie said, filling out a large glass of the liquor and handing it to the banker. Hilton Field was chilled, and the wine was most acceptable. He had hardly swallowed it when a sleepy feeling came over him, and he knew that the liquor was drugged. Dick Denton took the banker’s arms within his own, and, leading him to a lounge, told him to rest himself. Leaving Denton and the woman alone, Mackrell and Moses went downstairs, not forgetting to take the bottle of brandy with them. “Where is Wilbur?” Dick asked, when the door closed behind his friends. “Over in Norwalk; he will be here inside of an hour,” replied Sophie. “But why do you ask?” “I was thinking, perhaps, he might upset our plans.” “Not he; why he was tickled to death when he heard of Greer’s success. Don’t you know, it was Wilbur who first broached the scheme to Elmer Greer?”