ight be the same."

"It might indeed," admitted Mr. Norwood thoughtfully. "Tell me what
the two women looked like. Describe them as well as you can."

Jessie did so. She managed, even after this length of time, to
remember many peculiarities about the woman who drove the big car and
the fleshy one who had treated the girl so roughly. Mr. Norwood
exclaimed at last:

"I should not be at all surprised if that were Martha Poole and Mrs.
Bothwell. The descriptions in a general way fit them. And if it is so,
the girl Jessie and Amy saw abused in that way is surely the maid who
worked for Mrs. Poole."

"Oh, Robert! can it be possible, do you think?" cried his wife.

"Not alone possible, but probable," declared Robert Norwood. "Jessie,
I am glad that you are so observant. I want you to get the little girl
from Dogtown some day soon and let me talk with her. Perhaps she can
tell me something about her cousin's looks that will clinch the
matter. At least, she can tell us her cousin's full name, I have no
doubt."

"It's Bertha for a first name," said Jessie, eagerly. "And I supposed
it was Haney, like Henrietta's."

"The girl I am looking for is not named Haney, whatever her first name
may be. Anyway, it is a chance, and I mean to get to the bottom of
this mysterious kidnaping if I can, Jessie. Let me see this little
Henrietta who kills snakes with such admirable vigor," and he
laughed.

It was, however, no inconsiderable matter, as Jessie well understood.
In the morning she hurried over to the Drew house to tell Amy about
it. Both had been interested from the very beginning in the mystery of
the strange girl and her two women captors. There was something wrong
with those women. Amy said this with a serious shake of her head. You
could tell!

And when, on further discussion, Jessie remembered their names--Poole
and Bothwell--this fact brought out another discovery.

"Bothwell! I never did!" ejaculated Amy Drew. "Why, no wonder I
thought she looked like somebody I knew. And she drives a fast
car--I'll say she does. Jess Norwood! where were our wits? Don't you
remember reading about Sadie Bothwell, whose husband was one of the
first automobile builders, and she has driven in professional races,
and won a prize--a cup, or something? And her picture was in the
paper."

"That is the person Daddy refers to," Jessie agreed. "I did not like
her at all."

"Ho! I should say not!" scoffed Amy. "And I wasn't in love with the