On the second morning after their abduction, when Elaine and Davila arose, the sky was obscured by fog, the trees exuded moisture, and only a small portion of the Bay was faintly visible through the mist.

“This looks natural!” said Elaine. “We must have moved out to Northumberland, in the night.”

Davila smiled, a feeble sort of smile. It was not a morning to promote light-heartedness, and particularly under such circumstances.

“Is this anything like Northumberland?” she asked.

“Yes!—Only Northumberland is more so. For a misty day, this would be remarkably fine.—With us, it’s midnight at noon—all the lights burning, in streets, and shops, and electric cars, bells jangling, people rushing, pushing, diving through the dirty blackness, like devils in hell. Oh, it’s pleasant, when you get used to it.—Ever been there?”

“No,” said Davila, “I haven’t.”

“We must have you out—say, immediately after the holidays. Will you come?”

“I’ll be glad to come, if I’m alive—and we ever get out of this awful place.”

“It is stupid here,” said Elaine. “I thought 311 there was something novel in being abducted, but it’s rather dreary business. I’m ready to quit, are you?”

“I was ready to quit before we started!” Davila laughed.

“We will see what can be done about it. We’ll have in the head jailer.” She struck the bell. “Ask the chief to be kind enough to come here a moment,” she said, to the girl who attended them.

In a few minutes, he appeared—suave, polite, courteous.

“You sent for me, Miss Cavendish?” he inquired.

“I did. Sit down, please, I’ve something to say to you, Mr.——”

“Jones, for short,” he replied.

“Thank you!” said Elaine, with a particularly winning smile. “Mr. Jones, for short—you will pardon me, I know, if I seem unduly personal, but these quarters are not entirely to our liking.”

“I’m very sorry, indeed,” he replied. “We tried to make them comfortable. In what are they unsatisfactory?—we will remedy it, if possible.”

“We would prefer another locality—Hampton, to be specific.”

“You mean that you are tired of captivity?” he smiled. “I see your point of view, and I’m hopeful that Mr. Croyden will see it, also, and permit us to release you, in a few days.”

“It is that very point I wish to discuss a 312 moment with you,” she interrupted. “I told you before, that Mr. Croyden didn’t find the jewels and that, therefore, it is impossible for him to pay.”

“You will pardon me if I doubt your statement.—Moreover, we are not privileged to discuss the matter with you. We can deal only with Mr. Croyden, as I think I have already intimated.”

“Then you will draw an empty covert,” she replied.

“That remains to be seen, as I have also intimated,” said Mr. Jones, easily.

“But you don’t want to draw an empty covert, do you—to have only your trouble for your pains?” she asked.

“It would be a great disappointment, I assure you.”

“You have been at considerable expense to provide for our entertainment?”

“Pray do not mention it!—it’s a very great pleasure.”

“It would be a greater pleasure to receive the cash?” she asked.

“Since the cash is our ultimate aim, I confess it would be equally satisfactory,” he replied.

“Then why not tell me the amount?”

He shook his head.

“Such matters are for Mr. Croyden,” he said.

“Just assume that Mr. Croyden cannot pay,” she insisted. “Are we not to be given a chance to find the cash?” 313

“Mr. Croyden can pay.”

“But assume that he cannot,” she reiterated, “or won’t—it’s the same result.”

“In that event, you——”

“Would be given the opportunity,” she broke in.

He bowed.

“Then why not let us consider the matter in the first instance?” she asked. “The money is the thing. It can make no difference to you whence it comes—from Mr. Croyden or from me.”

“None in the world!” he answered.

“And it would be much more simple to accept a check and to release us when it is paid?”

“Checks are not accepted in this business!” he smiled.

“Ordinarily not, it would be too dangerous, I admit. But if it could be arranged to your satisfaction, what then?”

“I don’t think it can be arranged,” he replied. “The amount is much too great.”

“And that amount is——” she persisted, smiling at him the while.

“Two hundred thousand dollars,” he replied.

“With what per cent. off for cash?”

“None—not a fraction of a penny!”

She nodded, slightly. “Why can’t it be arranged?”

“You’re thinking of paying it?” he asked, incredulously. 314

“I want to know why you think it can’t be arranged?” she repeated.

“The danger of detection. No bank would pay a check for that amount to an unknown party, without the personal advice of the drawer.”

“Not if it were made payable to self, and properly indorsed for identification?”

“I fear not.”

“You can try it—there’s no harm in trying. You have a bank that knows you?”

“But scarcely for such large amounts.”

“What of it? You deposit the check for collection only. They will send it through. When it’s paid, they will pay you. If it’s not paid, there is no harm done—and we are still your prisoners. You stand to win everything and lose nothing.”

The man looked thoughtfully at the ceiling.

“The check will be paid?” he asked, presently.

“If it isn’t paid, you still have us,” said Elaine.

“It might be managed.”

“That is your part. If the check is presented, it will be paid—you may rest easy, on that score.”

Jones resumed his contemplation of the ceiling.

“But remember,” she cautioned, “when it is paid, we are to be released, instantly. No holding us for Mr. Croyden to pay, also. If we play square with you, you must play square with us. I risk a fortune, see that you make good.”

“Your check—it should be one of the sort you always use——” 315

“I always carry a few blank checks in my handbag—and fortunately, I have it with me. You were careful to wrap it in with my arms. I will get it.”

She went into her room. In a moment she returned, the blank check in her fingers, and handed it to him. It was of a delicate robin’s-egg blue, with “The Tuscarora Trust Company” printed across the face in a darker shade, and her monogram, in gold, at the upper end.

“Is it sufficiently individual to raise a presumption of regularity?” she said.

“Undoubtedly!” he answered.

“Then, let us understand each other,” she said.

“By all means,” he agreed.

“I give you my check for two hundred thousand dollars, duly executed, payable to my order, and endorsed by me, which, when paid, you, on behalf of your associates and yourself, engage to accept in lieu of the amount demanded from Mr. Croyden, and to release Miss Carrington and myself forthwith.”

“There is one thing more,” he said. “You, on your part, are to stipulate that no attempt will be made to arrest us.”

“We will engage that we will do nothing to apprehend you.”

“Directly or indirectly?” he questioned.

“Yes!—more than that is not in our power. You will have to assume the general risk you took when you abducted us.” 316

“We will take it,” was the quiet answer.

“Is there anything else?” she asked.

“I think not—at least, everything is entirely satisfactory to us.”

“Despite the fact that it couldn’t be made so!” she smiled.

“I didn’t know we had to deal with a woman of such business sense and—wealth,” he answered gallantly.

She smiled. “If you will get me ink and pen, I will sign the check,” she said.

She filled it in for the amount specified, signed and endorsed it. Then she took, from her handbag, a correspondence card, embossed with her initials, and wrote this note:

She addressed the envelope and passed it and the card across to Mr. Jones, together with the check. 317

“If you will mail this, to-night, it will provide against any chance of non-payment,” she said.

“You are a marvel of accuracy,” he answered, with a bow. “I would I could always do business with you.”

“At two hundred thousand the time? No! no! monsieur, I pray thee, no more!”

There was a knock on the door; the maid entered and spoke in a low tone to Jones. He nodded.

“I am sorry to inconvenience you again,” he said, turning to them, “but I must trouble you to go aboard the tug.”

“The tug—on the water?” Elaine exclaimed.

“On the water—that is usually the place for well behaved tugs!” he laughed.

“Now!” Elaine persisted.

“Now—before I go to deposit the check!” he smiled. “You will be safer on the tug. There will be no danger of an escape or a rescue—and it won’t be for long, I trust.”

“Your trust is no greater than ours, I assure you,” said Elaine.

Their few things were quickly gathered, and they went down to the wharf, where a small boat was drawn up ready to take them to the tug, which was lying a short distance out in the Bay.

“One of the Baltimore tugs, likely,” said Davila. “There are scores of them, there, and some are none too chary about the sort of business they are employed in.” 318

“Witness the present!” commented Elaine.

They got aboard without accident. Jones conducted them to the little cabin, which they were to occupy together—an upper and a lower bunk having been provided.

“The maid will sleep in the galley,” said he. “She will look after the cooking, and you will dine in the small cabin next to this one. It’s a bit contracted quarters for you, and I’m sorry, but it won’t be for long—as we both trust, Miss Cavendish.”

“And you?” asked Elaine.

“I go to deposit the check. I will have my bank send it direct for collection, with instructions to wire immediately if paid. I presume you don’t wish it to go through the ordinary course.”

“Most assuredly not!” Elaine answered.

“This is Thursday,” said Jones. “The check, and your note, should reach the Trust Company in the same mail to-morrow morning; they can be depended upon to wire promptly, I presume?”

“Undoubtedly!”

“Then, we may be able to release you to-morrow night, certainly by Saturday.”

“It can’t come too soon for us.”

“You don’t seem to like our hospitality,” Jones observed.

“It’s excellent of its sort, but we don’t fancy the sort—you understand, monsieur. And then, too, it is frightfully expensive.” 319

“We have done the best we could under the circumstances,” he smiled. “Until Saturday at the latest—meanwhile, permit me to offer you a very hopeful farewell.”

Elaine smiled sweetly, and Mr. Jones went out.

“Why do you treat him so amiably?” Davila asked. “I couldn’t, if I would.”

“Policy,” Elaine answered. “We get on better. It wouldn’t help our case to be sullen—and it might make it much worse. I would gladly shoot him, and hurrah over it, too, as I fancy you would do, but it does no good to show it, now—when we can’t shoot him.”

“I suppose not,” said Davila. “But I’m glad I don’t have to play the part.” She hesitated a moment. “Elaine, I don’t know how to thank you for my freedom——”

“Wait until you have it!” the other laughed. “Though there isn’t a doubt of the check being paid.”

“My grandfather, I know, will repay you with his entire fortune, but that will be little——”

Elaine stopped her further words by placing a hand over her mouth, and kissing her.

“That’s quite enough, dear!” she said. “Take it that the reward is for my release, and that you were just tossed in for good measure—or, that it is a slight return for the pleasure of visiting you—or, that the money is a small circumstance to me—or, that it is a trifling sum to pay to be 320 saved the embarrassment of proposing to Geoffrey, myself—or, take it any way you like, only, don’t bother your pretty head an instant more about it. In the slang of the day: ‘Forget it,’ completely and utterly, as a favor to me if for no other reason.”

“I’ll promise to forget it—until we’re free,” agreed Davila.

“And, in the meantime, let us have a look around this old boat,” said Elaine. “You’re nearer the door, will you open it? Two can’t pass in this room.”

Davila tried the door—it refused to open.

“It’s locked!” she said.

“Oh, well! we will content ourselves with watching the Bay through the port hole, and when one wants to turn around the other can crawl up in her bunk. I’m going to write a book about this experience, some time.—I wonder what Geoffrey and Colin are doing?” she laughed—“running around like mad and stirring up the country, I reckon.”