“As I finished, the telephone rang and Mr. and Mrs. Buissard, I think that was the name, were announced as coming by appointment.  I went down at once.  Mrs. Buissard was in evening dress, a pretty, vivacious woman, Mr. Buissard was a man of thirty, slender, with a little black moustache and black hair.  Somehow I didn’t like him; and I was glad he had brought his wife—­she was charming.

“They had a cab instead of a car or taxi.  We got in and drove up Fourteenth to H, and out H to Sixteenth.  As we swung in Sixteenth, the man leaned forward to the window on my side.

“‘Look at that!’ he exclaimed excitedly.

“As I turned to look, the woman flung her silk wrap over my head and twisted it tightly about my neck.

“I tried to cry out, but a hand closed over my mouth and only a weak gurgle responded.

“‘Listen, Mrs. Clephane!’ said the man, ’We mean you no harm.  Give us the package you have for the French Ambassador, and we will at once return you to your hotel.’

“I’m pretty much a coward, yet I managed to hold myself together and not faint, and to say nothing.  I didn’t care a straw for the letter, but I didn’t fancy being defeated at that stage of the game.  I tried to think—­but thinking is a bit difficult under such circumstances.  Just as the wrap went over my head, my hand happened to be on my hand-bag.  I quietly opened it, dropped the letter close along the seat, and closed the bag.  Here was a slight chance to balk them—­at all events, it was the only course occurring to me at the moment.

“‘Has she fainted?’ asked the man.

“‘I think so,’ said the woman, ‘or she is scared to death.’

“Here was a suggestion—­and I took it.  I remained perfectly quiet.

“‘Well,’ was his answer, ’we’re almost there, and it’s a lucky chance.  No trouble at all, Seraphina.’

“I had felt the cab round several corners; almost immediately after the last it stopped.  I’m a trifle hazy as to what they did; but finally I was passed out of the cab like a corpse and carried into a house.  There the wrap was removed from my head; I blinked uncertainly, and looked around in a bewildered fashion.

“‘Where am I?’ I gasped.

“The woman replied, ’You’re in absolutely no danger, Mrs. Clephane.  We want the package you have for the French Ambassador; when we have it, we will send you back to your hotel.’

“‘What is to be done with the cab?’ someone asked.

“‘Nothing,’ another replied.  ’The horse will find his way to his stand; he’s almost there.’

“‘But I haven’t any package!’ I protested.

“‘Come, come!’ the woman answered briskly.  ’You have it about you somewhere; that was what you were going to the Embassy to deliver?’

“‘Who are you?’ I demanded.

“‘It matters not who we are—­we want the package.’

“‘The package is not with me,’ I remarked.  ’It’s locked in the hotel safe.’