The word struck her like a blow in the face, then pierced like a dagger to her heart. "Oh-h-h!" she gasped, throwing out her white, agonized hands as if to ward off a stroke of fate. The next moment her senses gave way before the shock. She reeled blindly forward and fell like a log at the dastard's feet. This was what Jem Rhodes had hoped and expected. With a laugh of demoniac satisfaction he lifted Geraldine in his arms, and bore her to a second-class coach, having bought tickets for this with a distinct purpose. To his joy he found that he and Geraldine would be the only passengers on this coach. "The foul fiend helps me! I'll have a fair field for my love-making," he thought, exultantly, as the train steamed out from the station. Presently Geraldine, whom he had lain back on her seat, stirred and opened her eyes with a dazed look. "Oh, what does this mean? Where am I?" she gasped. Standish bent over her, and said, soothingly: "Don't you remember, Miss Harding? I brought you here to see Hawthorne. He will be here in a moment." "But--but--the train is moving," she cried, in a frightened voice. "Hush!" he hissed, and suddenly Geraldine felt the cold muzzle of a pistol pressed against her warm, white temple, and a hoarse voice continued: "You are at the mercy of a desperate man! Do not move or speak, or I will blow your brains out and then leap from the train in the darkness. I swear it. I have much to say to you, and I shall say it with my finger on the trigger of this pistol, ready to kill you if you utter one word without my permission. Now the conductor is coming in to take up our tickets. Do not dare to speak to him or show one sign of excitement." Life is sweet to the young and loving, and Geraldine dared not disobey that hoarse command. She crouched, trembling in her seat while the gruff conductor took up the tickets and passed on to the next car. They were again alone, and in a whirlwind of conflicting emotions Geraldine waited for the next words of her companion. In his hoarse voice, vibrant with passion, she had suddenly recognized Clifford Standish. She comprehended that he had set a trap for her, and that she had fallen into it. The horror of her thoughts no pen could tell! He bent toward her as he sat on the opposite seat, and though her heart swelled with a terrible hate, she dared not utter a word of remonstrance, for she saw that, half-hidden by his coat-sleeve, he carried his deadly weapon ready to wreak vengeance on her for the least disobedience. But though she dared not speak, Geraldine could not restrain the indignation that flashed upon him from her contemptuous eyes, and surely that glance was enough to wither him with its burning scorn. But, unmoved by her wrath, Clifford Standish asked, calmly: "Have you recognized me yet, Geraldine?" She nodded in silent, ineffable scorn, and he went on: