Stryker nodded and from a hill crest they seemed to soar into space. The car shivered and groaned like a stricken thing, but kept on down the hill without the touch of a brake. They crossed a bridge, rattled from side to side. Cyril steadied the girl in his arms and held her tight. “Are you frightened?” he asked her. “No. But what is it all about?” Her companion glanced back to where the long beams of light were searching their dust. When he turned toward her his face was grave. He held her closely for a moment, peering into her eyes. “Will you help me, Doris?” she heard him say. “But how? What can I do, Cyril?” He hesitated again, glancing over his shoulder. “Bally nuisance to have to drive you like this. Wouldn’t do it if it wasn’t most important----” “Yes----” “They want something I’ve got----” “Papers?” “You’ll laugh when I tell you. Most amusin’--cigarette papers!” “Cigarette----” “That’s all. I give you my word. Here they are.” And reaching down into his trousers pocket he produced a little yellow packet. “Cigarette papers, that’s all. These chaps must be perishin’ for a smoke. What?” he laughed. “But I don’t understand.” “It isn’t necessary that you should. Take my word for it, won’t you? It’s what they want. And I’m jolly determined they’re not goin’ to get it.” “You want me to help you? How?” He looked back again and the lights behind them found a reflection in his eyes. If, earlier in the evening she had hoped to see him fully awake, she had her wish now. He was quite cool and ready to take an amused view of things, but in his coolness she felt a new power, an inventiveness, a readiness to resort to extremes to baffle his pursuers. Her apprehension had grown with the moments. Who were these men in the touring-car? Special agents of Scotland Yard? She had never been so doubtful nor so proud of him. Weighed in the balance of emotion the woman in her decided it. She caught at his hand impulsively. “Yes, I’ll help--if I can--whatever comes.” He raised her fingers to his lips and kissed them gently. “Thank God,” he muttered. “I knew you would.” He looked over his shoulder and then peered out in search of familiar land-marks. They had passed Canons Hill and swung into the main road to Watford. If they reached there safely they would get to Ashwater Park which was but a short distance beyond. She heard him speaking again and felt something thrust into the palm of her hand. “Take this,” he said. “It’s what they want. They mustn’t get it.” “But who are _they_?” “I don’t know. Except that they’ve been sent by Rizzio.” “Rizzio!” “Yes. He’s not with them. This sort of game requires chaps of a different type.” “You mean that they----”