The rear door also was bolted; but, creeping on, he found a high side window that the keepers of this prison in their hasty flight had forgotten to close. With the aid of an empty rain barrel, which he overturned and rolled into position, Pudge scrambled with much hard breathing through the window and dropped into the kitchen. Here he listened; his ears could discern no sound. On tiptoe he crept through the rooms of the first floor--but came upon neither furtive enemy nor imprisoned friend. Up the narrow stairway he crept--peeped into three bedrooms--and finally opening the door of what was evidently a storeroom, he found the object of his search. E. Eliot sat in an old splint-bottomed chair--gagged, arms tied behind her and to the chair's back, and her ankles tied to the chair's legs. In a moment Pudge had the knotted towel out of her mouth, and had cut her bonds. But quick though Pudge was, to her he seemed intolerably slow; just then E. Eliot was thinking of only one thing. This was the final afternoon of the campaign and she was away out here, far from all the great things that might be going on. She gave a single stretch of her cramped muscles as she rose. "I know you--you're Betty Sheridan's brother--thanks," she said briskly. "What time is it?" Pudge drew out his most esteemed possession, a watch which kept perfect time--except when it refused to keep any time at all. "Three o'clock," he announced. "Then our last demonstration is under way, and when I tell my story--" E. Eliot interrupted herself. "Come on--let's catch the trolley!" With Pudge panting after her, she hurried downstairs, unbolted the door, and, running lightly on the balls of her feet, sped in the direction of the street car line. CHAPTER XIV. BY LEROY SCOTT In the meantime, concern and suspense and irruptive wrath had their chief abode in the inner room of Remington and Evans. George had received a request, through Penny Evans, from the chief of police to remain in his office, where he could be reached instantly if information concerning Genevieve were received, and where his help could instantly be secured were it required; and Penny had enlarged that request to the magnitude of a command and had stood by to see that it was obeyed, and himself to give assistance. George had recognized the sense of the order, but he rebelled at the enforced inactivity. Where was Genevieve?--why wasn't he out doing something for her? He strode about the office, fuming, sick with the suspense and inaction of his role. But Genevieve was not his unbroken concern. He was still afire with the high resentment which a few hours earlier had made him go striding into the office of the _Sentinel_. Fragments of his statement to the editor leaped into his mind; and as he strode up and down he repeated phrases silently, but with fierce emphasis of the soul.