“When a lady puts a claim on a gentleman as her husband,” remonstrated Remsen mildly, “while he may not have the right to prevent her from jumping out of the window of a moving train, at least he may use all fair means to see her through.” “Do you think you’ve been fair in this?” “_Kamerad!_ I surrender! I don’t! The plain fact is, I knew you’d run away if I told you, and I couldn’t bear to lose you, after I’d miraculously found you again.” “Consequently,” she accused, “I am here where the girls are sure to find me, married and without a husband, or with a husband that they’ll discover is bogus. What am I going to do?” “List to an inspired idea! I’ve just thought it out. When you see your friends, tell them that I didn’t get off the train at all. I went right on to Montreal.” “And deserted your bride?” “Emergency call on imperative official business. Back to-morrow or next day, or whenever you choose to tell ’em. That’ll give you time to arrange things and fix up a good, water-tight lie.” “No lie could be good enough.” “Wait till we put our heads together over it.” “How can we put our heads together if your head is in Montreal?” “It won’t be, except for publication to the bridal party. It’ll be at the Bungalow. I’m going to carry it there now, on foot.” “And stay there until it’s time for you to get back from Montreal?” “Precisely. When you need your titled Britisher back, I’ll be ready, with the accent and the infernal, scratchy whiskers.” “Suppose, meantime, the bridal couples come wandering about the Bungalow?” “Then I’ll take to the woods. Lives of the hunted and all that sort of thing. Before I’m through with all this I may have to disguise myself as a rabbit and learn to twitch my ears.” “It’s fearfully risky—” began the girl. “It is,” he confirmed, “with the woods full of amateur hunters. But I’ve known rabbits to live to a ripe old age. There was an old cottontail on Uncle Simeon’s place—” “Please don’t joke. It’s fearfully serious for me. I’ve got to go ahead and face the girls.” “Say the word and I’ll gird my gospel armour on—I mean my side-burns—and support you.” “Yes: and what would our frisky chauffeur think of that! Gracious goodness! I forgot about him. What will he think about your disappearance if you run away now?” “Leave him to me. I’ve got an argument for him.” The native reappeared with the information that the truck was bemired and that the garage car in which one couple had arrived from Ashland (the motor-boat having broken down) was unable to pull it out unaided. Therefore, he told them, he would have to go to the rescue with his car. Mr. Remsen produced a roll of greenbacks. “Have you any aversion to a ten-dollar bill?” he inquired. “I ain’t never knowed one teh make me sick t’ my stommick yet,” confessed the native. “Try this one,” said Remsen. But the speeder withheld his hand. “What am I bein’ hired fer?” “To tell me a short cut by foot to the Bungalow.”