“This way, please, Miss Merrick,” he said.  “Mr. Weldon begs you to be seated in the limousine.  He will join you in a moment.”

With this he led the way to the car and held the door open, while the girl, having no suspicion, entered and sank back wearily upon the seat.  Then the door abruptly slammed, and the man in livery leaped to the seat beside the chauffeur and with a jerk the car darted away.

So sudden and astounding was this denouement that Louise did not even scream.  Indeed, for the moment her wits were dazed.

And now Charlie Mershone stepped from his hiding place and with a satirical smile entered the vestibule and looked at his watch.  He found he had time to show himself again at the Kermess, for a few moments, before driving to the ferry to catch the train for East Orange.

Some one touched him on the arm.

“Very pretty, sir, and quite cleverly done,” remarked a quiet voice.

Mershone started and glared at the speaker, a slender, unassuming man in dark clothes.

“What do you mean, fellow?”

“I’ve been watching the comedy, sir, and I saw you were the star actor, although you took care to keep hidden in the wings.  That bruiser who raised the row took his arrest very easily; I suppose you’ve arranged to pay his fine, and he isn’t worried.  But the gentleman surely was in hard luck pounded one minute and pinched the next.  You arranged it very cleverly, indeed.”

Charlie was relieved that no mention was made of the abduction of Louise.  Had that incident escaped notice?  He gave the man another sharp look and turned away; but the gentle touch again restrained him.

“Not yet, please, Mr. Mershone.”

“Who are you?” asked the other, scowling.

“The house detective.  It’s my business to watch things.  So I noticed you talking to the police officer; I also noticed the patrol wagon standing on the opposite side of the street for nearly an hour—­my report on that will amuse them at headquarters, won’t it?  And I noticed you nod to the bruiser, just as your victim came out.”

“Let go of my arm, sir!”

“Do you prefer handcuffs?  I arrest you.  We’ll run over to the station and explain things.”

“Do you know who I am?”

“Perfectly, Mr. Mershone.  I believe I ran you in for less than this, some two years ago.  You gave the name of Ryder, then.  Better take another, to-night.”

“If you’re the house detective, why do you mix up in this affair?” enquired Mershone, his anxiety showing in his tone.

“Your victim was a guest of the house.”

“Not at all.  He was merely attending the Kermess.”

“That makes him our guest, sir.  Are you ready?”

Mershone glanced around and then lowered his voice.

“It’s all a little joke, my dear fellow,” said he, “and you are liable to spoil everything with your bungling.  Here,” drawing; a roll of bills from his pocket, “don’t let us waste any more time.  I’m busy.”