hild.

An instant's work loosed her scored and excoriated wrists; in another,
the bonds fell from her ankles. Deftly unknotting the bandage that
closed her mouth, he asked could she walk. With difficulty, in a husky
and painful whisper, but still courageously, she told him yes.

Hopeful, rather than counting on this assurance, he jumped out and
offered his hand. She put hers into it (and it was cold as ice),
stirred, rose stiffly, tottered to the door, and fell into his
arms....

A uniformed patrolman, breaking through the crowd about them, seized
P. Sybarite and held him fast.

"What's this? Who's this?" he gabbled incoherently, brandishing a
vaguely formidable fist.

"A lady, you fool!" P. Sybarite snapped. "Let go and catch that
scoundrel over there--if you're worth your salt."

He waved his free hand broadly in the direction taken by November's
driver.

Abruptly and without protest the patrolman released him, butted his
way through the crowd, and disappeared.

An arm boldly about Marian's waist, P. Sybarite helped her to the step
of the touring car--and blessed that prince among chauffeurs, who was
up and ready in his seat!

But now again he must be hindered: a plain-clothes man dropped a heavy
hand upon his shoulder and screwed the muzzle of a revolver into P.
Sybarite's ear.

"Under arrest!" he blatted wildly. "Carrying fire-arms! Causing a
crowd to collect--!"

"All right--all right!" P. Sybarite told him roughly. "I admit it. I'm
not resisting, am I? Take that gun out of my ear and help me get this
lady into the car before she's trampled and torn to pieces by these
staring fools!"

Stupidly enough, the man comprehended some part of his admonishment.
Staring blankly from the little man to the girl, he pocketed his
weapon and, grasping Marian's arm, assisted her into the touring car.

"Thanks!" cried P. Sybarite, jumping up on the running-board. "You're
most amiable, my friend!"

And with the heel of his open hand he struck the man forcibly upon the
chest, so that he reeled back, tripped over the hapchance foot of an
innocent by-stander, and went sprawling and blaspheming upon his back.

Somebody laughed hysterically.

"Go!" P. Sybarite cried to the chauffeur.

The crowd gave way before the lunge of the car....

They were halfway to Fifth Avenue before pursuit was thought of; had
turned the corner before it was fairly started; in five minutes had
thrown it off entirely and were running fre