“Yes,” agreed Clay humbly.

According to programme, carefully arranged by Johnnie, Beatrice rode down to the train with him and Kitty in their taxicab.  She went on board for the final good-byes and chatted with them in their section.

The chief conspirator was as easy as a toad in a hot skillet.  Now that it had come down to the actual business of taking this young woman with them against her will, he began to weaken.  His heart acted very strangely, but he had to go through with it.

“C-can I see you a minute in the next car, Miss Beatrice?” he asked, his voice quavering.

Miss Whitford lifted her eyebrows, but otherwise expressed no surprise.

“Certainly, Johnnie.”

“What do you want to see Miss Whitford about, Johnnie?” his spouse asked.  There were times when Kitty mistrusted Johnnie’s judgment.  She foresaw that he might occasionally need a firm hand.

“Oh, nothin’ much.  Tell you about it later, honey.”  The kidnaper mopped the perspiration from his forehead.  At that moment he wished profoundly that this brilliant idea of his had never been born.

He led the way down the aisle into the next sleeper and stopped at one of the staterooms.  Shakily he opened the door and stood aside for her to pass first.

“You want me to go in here?” she asked.

“Yes’m.”

Beatrice stepped in.  Johnnie followed.

Clay rose from the lounge and said, “Glad to see you, Miss Whitford.”

“Did you bring me here to say good-bye, Johnnie?” asked Beatrice.

The Runt’s tongue stuck to the root of his mouth, His eyes appealed dumbly to Clay.

“Better explain to Miss Whitford,” said Clay, passing the buck.

“It’s for yore good, Miss Beatrice,” stammered the villain who had brought her.  “We—­we—­I—­I done brought you here to travel home with us.”

“You—­what?”

Before her slender, outraged dignity Johnnie wilted.  “Kitty, she—­she can chaperoon you.  It’s all right, ma’am.  I—­we—­I didn’t go for to do nothin’ that wasn’t proper.  We thought—­”

“You mean that you brought me here expecting me to go along with you—­without my consent—­without a trunk—­without—­”

Clay took charge of the kidnaping.  “Johnnie, if I were you I’d light a shuck back to the other car.  I see I’ll have to treat this lady rough as you advised.”

Johnnie wanted to expostulate, to deny that he had ever given such counsel, to advise an abandonment of the whole project.  But his nerve unexpectedly failed him.  He glanced helplessly at Clay and fled.

He was called upon the carpet immediately on joining Kitty.

“What are you up to, Johnnie?  I’m not going to have you make a goose of yourself if I can help it.  And where’s Mr. Lindsay?  You said he’d meet us here.”

“Clay, he’s in the next car.”

“You took Miss Beatrice in there to say good-bye to him?”