Hogan growled in derision, yet it was evident that she and Hobart would have their way.  Some one brought a rope, which was deftly wound about him, West continuing to feign unconsciousness.  He secretly hoped this condition might result in some carelessness on their part, in either speech or action.  Anyway it would undoubtedly save him from further brutal treatment.  He had no reason to suspect that his ruse was questioned.  The fellows spoke freely while making him secure, but he gained very little information from their conversation—­not a hint as to where Natalie was confined, or how long it was proposed to hold them prisoners.  Then “Red” and Dave lugged his limp body through several rooms, out upon a back porch, finally dragging him down the steps and along a cement drive way, letting him lie there a moment in the dark, while one of them unlocked a door.  The next instant he was carelessly thrown inside, and the door forced back into place.  He could hear Hogan swear outside, and then the sound of both men’s feet on the drive as they departed.

With a struggle West managed to sit up, but could scarcely attempt more, as his arms were bound closely to his sides.  The darkness about him was intense, and, with the disappearance of the two men up the steps, all outside sounds had ceased.  He knew he had been flung into the garage and was resting there on the hard cement floor.  He could neither feel nor see any machine, nor was there probably the slightest prospect of his getting out unaided.  Those fellows would never have left him there without guard, had they dreamed any escape was possible.  The girl had affirmed the building was constructed of stone, two feet thick.  He stared around at the impenetrable black wall completely defeated.  Undoubtedly they had him this time.  He was weak from hunger, tired nearly to death; bruised and battered until it seemed as though every muscle in his body throbbed with pain.  Yet his mind was not on these things, only incidentally; his thought, his anxiety centred altogether on Natalie Coolidge.  What had become of her; where was she now?  He had no reason to believe her in any great personal danger.  If this gang, satisfied of success, were disposed to spare his life, it was hardly probable they would demand her’s.  Now both the desire for murder, and the necessity, had passed.  The fellows felt supremely confident the spoils were already theirs, and that all that was needed now to assure complete success was sufficient time in which to drop safely out of sight.  Murder would hinder, rather than help this escape.

But what a blind fool he had been; how strangely he had permitted this girl to lead him so easily astray.  Why really, to his mind now, she possessed no real resemblance to Natalie; not enough, at least, to deceive the keen eyes of love.  She had the features, the eyes, the hair, the voice, a certain trick of speech, which, no doubt, she had cultivated—­but there were a thousand things in which she differed.