Whatever may have been the desire to shriek, to call for help, to tear away the window curtains, the three helpless captives were unable to break through the influence this lone bandit spread about them.  The thought of St. Gudule, of the great gathering, of the impatience, the consternation, the sensation occasioned by the non-arrival of the bride, brought madness to the brains of the hapless trio.  Like a vivid panorama they saw everything that was going on in the church.  They saw alarm in faces of those closely interested in the wedding, heard the vague rumors and questionings, the order for the search, the report of accident, and then—­the police and newspapers!

At last the carriage came to a stop and the footman swung down from the seat, opening the door quickly.  That they were far beyond the streets of the city was apparent in the oppressive stillness, broken only by the heavy panting of the horses.  “This is the place,” came in the coarse voice of the footman.  “We have no time to lose.”

“Then I must ask you to get down, Monsieur, and the ladies.  We are about to enter a house for a short while, the better to complete the details of our little transactions.  Remember, no noise means no violence Be quick, please.”  Thus spoke the man in the seat, who an instant later stepped forth into the darkness.  The trembling, sobbing women dragged themselves to the ground, their gorgeous gowns trailing in the dust, unthought of and unprotected.  Mr. Van Dykman, old as he was, took courage in the momentary relaxation, and attempted to halloo for help.  A heavy hand was clasped over his mouth and strong arms subdued his show of resistance.  Swiftly across a short stretch of ground they went, up rickety steps and into the black hallway of a house.  There were stifled moans of terror on the lips of the two women, but there was no resistance save the weight their strengthless forms imposed upon the men who had them in charge.  There was no light in the house and no sign that it was occupied by others than themselves.

“We remain here for several hours.  If all goes well, you will then be at liberty to depart for your home in the city.  Here is a chair, Madam.  Pray be seated.  Pardon our inability to give you a light.  You will be patient, I am sure, when it is said on the sacred word of a gentleman that no harm is to come to you.  It is only necessary that you remain quiet and await the hour when we are ready to release you.  I must ask permission to lock the door of this room.  Before dawn your friends will be here to take you away in safety.  Everything has been arranged for your personal welfare and comfort.  Permit me to say goodnight.”

“Where are we?” demanded the old man.

“Why have you brought us here?” asked Mrs. Garrison from the arm chair into which she had limply fallen.

“You will learn everything in good time.  We shall be just outside the door, and will respond promptly if you need our help to the extent of shouting for it.  In the meantime your horses and carriage are being well cared for.  Be of good heart and your night will not be a long one.  Believe me, I hope we may meet again under more pleasing conditions.”