. Sybarite's fingers closing on the throat of
the assassin just as the latter's head struck the pavement with brutal
force.

The man shivered, grunted, and lay still.

P. Sybarite disengaged and got up on his feet.

XXII

TOGETHER

In a daze, P. Sybarite shook and felt himself all over, unable to
credit his escape from that rain of bullets.

But he was apparently unharmed.

_Kismet!_...

Then suddenly he quickened to the circumstances: the thing was
finished, November stunned and helpless at his feet, November's driver
making off, the crowd swarming round, the police an imminent menace.

Now if Marian were in the body of the town-car, as he believed, he
must get her out of it and away before the police and detectives could
overtake and apprehend them both.

Instant action, inspired audacity, a little luck--and the thing might
possibly be accomplished.

His chauffeur was crawling ignominiously out from beneath the touring
car--his countenance livid with grime and the pallor of fright.
Meeting the eye of his employer, he grinned a sheepish grin.

P. Sybarite seized him by the arm.

"Are you hurt?"

"Not ten cents' worth--much less a thousand dollars! No such luck!"

His mouth to the fellow's ear, P. Sybarite whispered hoarsely and
hurriedly:

"Unhook your license number--throw it in the car--get ready to move
on the word--lady in that car--kidnapped--I love her--d'you
understand?--we must get her away--another thousand in this for you--"

"Gotcha," the man cut in smartly. "And I'm with you to the last act!
Go to it, bo'--I like your style!"

Swinging about, P. Sybarite jumped upon the running-board of the
maroon-coloured car, wrenched the door open, and stumbled in.

In her evening frock and her cloak of furs, Marian lay huddled in a
corner, wrists and ankles alike made fast with heavy twine, her mouth
closed tight by a bandanna handkerchief passed round her jaws and
knotted at the nape of her neck. Above its folds her face was like
snow, but the little man thought to detect in her staring eyes a hint
of intelligence, and on this he counted with all his soul.

"Don't scream!" he pleaded as, whipping out a pocket knife, he severed
her bonds. "Don't do anything but depend on me. Pretend, if you like,
you don't know what's happening--likely you don't at that! No matter.
Have faith in me; I'll get you clear of this yet!"

He fancied a softening look in those wide and frightened eyes of a
c