“I can’t do what?” growled the young man.

A feeling of great loneliness fell upon “Izzy” Schwab.  Where were now those officers, who in the police courts were at his beck and call?  Where the numbered houses, the passing surface cars, the sweating multitudes of Eighth Avenue?  In all the world he was alone, alone on an empty country road, with a grim, alert young man.

“When I asked you how you knew my name,” said the young man, “I thought you knew me as having won some races in Florida last winter.  This is the car that won.  I thought maybe you might have heard of me when I was captain of a football team at—­a university.  If you have any idea that you can jump from this car and not be killed, or, that I cannot pound you into a pulp, let me prove to you you’re wrong—­now.  We’re quite alone.  Do you wish to get down?”

“No,” shrieked Schwab, “I won’t!” He turned appealingly to the young lady.  “You’re a witness,” he cried.  “If he assaults me, he’s liable.  I haven’t done nothing.”

“We’re near Yonkers,” said the young man, “and if you try to take advantage of my having to go slow through the town, you know now what will happen to you.”

Mr. Schwab having instantly planned on reaching Yonkers, to leap from the car into the arms of the village constable, with suspicious alacrity, assented.  The young man regarded him doubtfully.

“I’m afraid I’ll have to show you,” said the young man.  He laid two fingers on Mr. Schwab’s wrist; looking at him, as he did so, steadily and thoughtfully, like a physician feeling a pulse.  Mr. Schwab screamed.  When he had seen policemen twist steel nippers on the wrists of prisoners, he had thought, when the prisoners shrieked and writhed, they were acting.

He now knew they were not.

“Now, will you promise?” demanded the grim young man.

“Yes,” gasped Mr. Schwab.  “I’ll sit still.  I won’t do nothing.”

“Good,” muttered Winthrop.

A troubled voice that carried to the heart of Schwab a promise of protection, said:  “Mr. Schwab, would you be more comfortable back here with me?”

Mr. Schwab turned two terrified eyes in the direction of the voice.  He saw the beautiful young lady regarding him kindly, compassionately; with just a suspicion of a smile.  Mr. Schwab instantly scrambled to safety over the front seat into the body of the car.  Miss Forbes made way for the prisoner beside her and he sank back with a nervous, apologetic sigh.  The alert young man was quick to follow the lead of the lady.

“You’ll find caps and goggles in the boot, Schwab,” he said hospitably.  “You had better put them on.  We are going rather fast now.”  He extended a magnificent case of pigskin, that bloomed with fat black cigars.  “Try one of these,” said the hospitable young man.  The emotions that swept Mr. Schwab he found difficult to pursue, but he raised his hat to the lady.  “May I, Miss?” he said.