It goes without saying, of course, that all efforts, secret or otherwise, failed to locate the missing men.  The distracted brides, each trying to run away from the other in a way, were in a state of collapse, necessarily subdued but most alarming.  The Rev. Henry Derby, a nice-looking young fellow, who looked more like a tennis player than a minister of the gospel, eventually identified his old friend’s ladye faire, and introduced himself with a discreetness that proved him to have been in college at the proper period and in a somewhat different class from that which he now sought to lead.  In the privacy of her drawing-room the bewitching but distressed young woman discussed the situation with the man who had been chosen to perform the clandestine ceremony in the far-away town of Omegon.  Derby, coming on from his eastern home in loyal acquiescence to his friend’s request, had designedly taken this train, it being understood that Dauntless would board it at Fenlock with his fair conspirator.  We all know why Dauntless failed to perform his part of the agreement; Derby, with the perspicuity of a college man, finally advanced a reason for his inexplicable failure to appear.  Eleanor had begun tearfully to accuse him of abandoning her at the last moment; Mr. Derby indignantly scouted the idea.  When she related their chase in the motor and their escape from Windomshire, he formed his conclusions, and they were in the main remarkably correct.

“I’m afraid, Miss Thursdale, that your disappointed lover, our ancient enemy, the Englishman, was not to be overcome so neatly.  Has it occurred to you that he may have reached Fenlock before the train left, and that he is the explanation for Joe’s non-appearance?”

“You—­you don’t mean that he has killed—–­” she was gasping, growing whiter and whiter.  He hastened to reassure her.

“Oh, no; not so bad as that.  But it is possible and quite probable that he—­if, as you say, he was on to your—­I should say, aware of your flight, it is probable that he succeeded in detaining Joe in Fenlock.  That would—–­” “Impossible!  Joe wouldn’t let him!” she cried indignantly.

“Perhaps Joe couldn’t help himself.  Such things happen.  At any rate, you’ll understand, the despised enemy could have—–­”

“Mr. Windomshire is not a despised enemy.  He’s a very nice man, Mr. Derby,” she interrupted.

“Certainly, Miss Thursdale.  What I meant to say was, that he was morally sure of preventing the wedding if he could only keep you far enough apart.  Now that is probably what he has done.  You can’t marry Joe in Omegon or anywhere else unless he is there and not in Fenlock.”

“I see.  Well, I’ll go back to Fenlock!” she exclaimed emphatically, a little line of determination and stubbornness settling about the erstwhile trembling lips.

“I admire your loyalty,” he said warmly.  “Just at present, however, we are water-bound here, and we’ve got to make the best of it.  I fancy Joe will telegraph before long.”