“Oh, it’s you, Mr. Shirley,” and she summoned up a little throaty laugh, as she arose stiffly.  “What a queer place to be in!”

“We are a long way from New York’s white lights, Miss Marigold.  This is the country home of a good old friend of mine.  You can remain here for the rest of the night, as his wife’s guest.  To-morrow, when you are rested, he can send you to the city in one of his cars.”

“You are the most curious man in two continents.  I am bewildered.  First, you kidnap a chauffeur and privateer his car, then me.  Now you besiege a friend and wish to leave me on his doorstep as a foundling.”

“I’m sorry—­it’s the exigency of war!  We must finish what we started.  This is the only place I know where I could thoroughly hide my trail.  We must wake up Jim, but first I will have a look at our guest.”

Shirley walked around the car, shooting the beam from his pocket flashlight in through the open window of the taxi, to be met by the wicked black eyes of his prisoner, who uttered volumes of unpronounceable hatred.

“You are still with us, little bright eyes.  A pleasant trip, I trust?  I hope you found the air good—­I tried to improve the ventilation for your benefit, as well as my own.”  Only a subdued gurgle answered him.

“Oh, what will they think of me—­in this immodest gown, with this paint on my face, and at this hour of night?” pleaded Helene, as he started toward the door of the mansion.

“It would be awful at that,” and Shirley paused at the beseeching tone of the girl.  “I want you to meet Mrs. Jim as well as Jim.  I am afraid they would think this was the echo of an old college escapade, and misjudge you.  Let me think—­”

He led her to a little summer-house close by, and tucked the big coat about her as he added:  “It’s dark here—­the wind doesn’t reach you, and I’ll take you back to town in five minutes.  Will that do?”

As she nodded, he hurried to the door where he yanked vigorously at the bell.  An angry head protruded from an upper story, after many encores of the peals.

“Aw, what the dickens?  Go some place else and find out!”

“Jim, Jim.  It’s Monty!  Come down and let me in quick.”

The window closed with a bang as the head was withdrawn, while a light soon appeared in the beveled panes of the big front door.

“You poor boob,” was the cheerful greeting as it swung wide, “What brings you out here?  I thought it was the usual joy party which had lost its way.  They always pick me out for an information bureau.  Come on in!”

Shirley spoke rapidly, in a low tone.  The girl in the dark summer-house marveled at the rapid change of mien, as Jim suddenly ran down the steps to gaze into the taxicab, then nodding to Shirley.  The house-holder as promptly returned through his front door, while Shirley swiftly unmanacled the prisoner enough to let him walk, stiff and awkward from the long ordeal in the car.  The stern grip, of his captor prompted obedience.