him in the road with the front off and
the lights out. He'd seen the lamps of our car, and now they want it
to escape in. That's why he brought us here--to keep us away from our
car."

"And Fred!" gasped the girl. "Fred's hurt!"

"I guess Fred stumbled into the big fellow," assented the young man,
"and the big fellow put him out; then he saw Fred was a chauffeur, and
now they are trying to bring him to, so that he can run the car for
them. You needn't worry about Fred. He's been in four smash-ups."

The young man bent forward to listen, but from no part of the great
house came any sign. He exclaimed angrily.

"They must be drugged," he growled. He ran to the desk and made
vicious jabs at the ivory buttons.

"Suppose they're out of order!" he whispered.

There was the sound of leaping feet. The young man laughed nervously.

"No, it's all right," he cried. "They're coming!"

The door flung open and the big burglar and a small, rat-like figure of
a man burst upon them; the big one pointing a revolver.

"Come with me to your car!" he commanded. "You've got to take us to
Boston. Quick, or I'll blow your face off."

Although the young man glared bravely at the steel barrel and the
lifted trigger, poised a few inches from his eyes, his body, as though
weak with fright, shifted slightly and his feet made a shuffling noise
upon the floor. When the weight of his body was balanced on the ball
of his right foot, the shuffling ceased. Had the burglar lowered his
eyes, the manoeuvre to him would have been significant, but his eyes
were following the barrel of the revolver.

In the mind of the young man the one thought uppermost was that he must
gain time, but, with a revolver in his face, he found his desire to
gain time swiftly diminishing. Still, when he spoke, it was with
deliberation.

"My chauffeur--" he began slowly.

The burglar snapped at him like a dog. "To hell with your chauffeur!"
he cried. "Your chauffeur has run away. You'll drive that car
yourself, or I'll leave you here with the top of your head off."

The face of the young man suddenly flashed with pleasure. His eyes,
looking past the burglar to the door, lit with relief.

"There's the chauffeur now!" he cried.

The big burglar for one instant glanced over his right shoulder.

For months at a time, on Soldiers Field, the young man had thrown
himself at human targets, that ran and dodged and evaded him, and the
hulking burglar,