The chauffeur flung himself on him and they struggled fiercely, rolling over and over in the dust of the road.

But the bearded stranger had a grip of steel and managed to get his fingers about the chauffeur’s throat as an added insurance against a cry for help.

He choked him literally into insensibility.  Then, with a strength that he did not seem to possess, he picked up the limp, blue-faced body and carried it off the road and around the car.

. . . . . . .

In the baggage-car, the baggageman was smoking a surreptitious pipe of powerful tobacco between stations and contemplating the scenery thoughtfully through the open door.

As the engine slowed up to take a curve and a grade, Bailey who had now and then taken a peep out of a little grated window above him, crept out from his hiding-place.  Already he had slipped a dark silk mask over his face.

As he made his way among the trunks and boxes, the train lurched and the baggageman who had his back to Bailey heard him catch himself.  He turned and leaped to his feet.  Bailey closed with him instantly.

Over and over they rolled.  Bailey had already drawn his revolver before he left his hiding-place.  A shot, however, would have been fatal to his part in the plans and was only a last resort for it would have brought the trainmen.

Finally Bailey rolled his man over and getting his right arm free, dealt the baggageman a fierce blow with the butt of the gun.

The train was now pulling slowly up the grade.  More time had been spent in overcoming the baggageman than he expected and Bailey had to work quickly.  He dragged the trunk marked “E.  Dodge” from the pile to the door and glanced out.

. . . . . . .

Just around the curve in the railroad, Del Mar was waiting, straining his eyes down the track.

There was the train, puffing up the grade.  As it approached he rose and waved his arms.  It was the signal and he waited anxiously.  Had his plans been carried out?

The train passed.  From the baggage-car came a trunk catapulted out by a strong arm.  It hurtled through the air and landed with its own and the train’s momentum.

Over it rolled in the bushes, then stopped—­unbroken, for Elaine had had it designed to resist even the most violent baggage-smasher.

Del Mar ran to it.  As the tail light of the train disappeared he turned around in the direction from which he had come, placed his two hands to his mouth and shouted.

. . . . . . .

From the side of the road by Del Mar’s car the bearded motor-cyclist had just emerged, buttoning the chauffeur’s clothes and adjusting his goggles to his own face.

As he approached the car, he heard a shout.  Quickly he tore off the black beard which had been his disguise and tossed it into the grass.  Then he drew the coat high up about his neck.