She now realized how wrong she had been to sit idly during the trip across the ferry, where a score of passengers would gladly have assisted her.  How cunning her captors had been to lull her fears during that critical period!  Now, alas, it was too late to cry out, and she had no idea where she was being taken or the reason of her going.

Presently it occurred to her that this was not Arthur’s limousine at all.  There was no speaking tube for one thing.  She leaned forward and felt for the leathern pocket in which she kept a veil and her street gloves.  No pocket of any sort was to be found.

An unreasoning terror now possessed her.  She knew not what to fear, yet feared everything.  She made another attempt to cry aloud for help and then fell back unconscious on the cushions.

How long she lay in the faint she did not know.  When she recovered the limousine was still rattling forward at a brisk gait but bumping over ruts in a manner that indicated a country road.

Through the curtains she could see little but the black night, although there was a glow ahead cast by the searchlights of the car.  Louise was weak and unnerved.  She had no energy to find a way to combat her fate, if such a way were possible.  A dim thought of smashing a window and hurling herself through it gave her only a shudder of repulsion.  She lacked strength for such a desperate attempt.

On, on, on.  Would the dreary journey never end?  How long must she sit and suffer before she could know her fate, or at least find some explanation of the dreadful mystery of this wild midnight ride?

At last, when she had settled down to dull despair, the car came to a paved road and began to move more slowly.  It even stopped once or twice, as if the driver was not sure of his way.  But they kept moving, nevertheless, and before long entered a driveway.  There was another stop now, and a long wait.

Louise lay dismally back upon the cushions, sobbing hysterically into her dripping handkerchief.  The door of her prison at last opened and a light shone in upon her.

“Here we are, miss,” said the man in uniform, still in quiet, respectful tones.  “Shall I assist you to alight?”

She started up eagerly, her courage returning with a bound.  Stepping unassisted to the ground she looked around her in bewilderment.

The car stood before the entrance to a modest country house.  There was a light in the hall and another upon the broad porch.  Around the house a mass of trees and shrubbery loomed dark and forbidding.

“Where am I?” demanded Louise, drawing back haughtily as the man extended a hand toward her.

“At your destination, miss,” was the answer.  “Will you please enter?”

“No!  Not until I have an explanation of this—­this—­singular, high-handed proceeding,” she replied, firmly.

Then she glanced at the house.  The hall door had opened and a woman stood peering anxiously at the scene outside.