When Janet Hosmer, startled by Felipe Martinez’ agitated appeal, turned from the telephone, her single thought was to carry out on the instant his fervid injunction. Something aimed at the engineer and the lawyer was in movement, a plot for the former’s arrest and the destruction of evidence necessary to his defense, according to Martinez’ quick hurried words; and the Mexican now sought her aid, as she was the only one within reach whom he could trust. That he must call to her showed the desperate nature of the exigency––and he had said lives were at stake!

Haste was the imperative need. As her father was absent, she summoned the Mexican girl from the kitchen, for instinct advised the wisdom of having a companion on this errand; and the two of them, bare-headed and walking fast, set out for the house. Dusk was just thickening to night. No stars were visible. A warm moistness in the air forewarned of rain from the blanket of clouds that had spread at sunset along the peaks. Indeed, a few fine globules of water touched their faces as they came into the main street and hurried along.

Neither girl had observed the automobile, unlighted and moving slowly, that approached the Hosmer house as they emerged. Apparently the driver perceiving them against the lamplight of the doorway and noting their departure thought better of bringing the car to a halt, 146 for he kept the machine in motion and as quietly as possible trailed the pair by glimpses of their figures flitting before an occasional illuminated window. When Janet and her companion turned into the main street where the stores were lighted his task became easier.

The street was peaceful. Janet saw no evidence of the violence or danger indicated by the Mexican lawyer’s declaration, but she was too sensible to imagine on that account that peril did not exist. The town was not aware of what had occurred, that was all,––not yet. The chief actors in the conspiracy were still moving stealthily against their intended victims; they had pounced on Martinez and once they had seized the evidence they sought they would arrest Weir. Afterwards the people, as she guessed the matter, would be aroused to create a strong sentiment against the helpless men. It was an atrocious business.

But as yet things were in a lull––and it was during this pause, brief, critical, that Martinez expected her to act. That much she had grasped from his hurried words. She reached his office and halted to listen. No gleam came from the building, nor from the low structure on either side, and across the way all was dark––dark as it had been that night when the assassin’s shot had been fired at Steele Weir. Repressing a shudder, she bade the Mexican girl follow her, groped for the door knob, found it and pushed the door open.

Martinez had spoken of men forcing an entrance, so it must have been at the rear. Inside all was pitchy black.

“Juanita, you have a match in your pocket, haven’t you?” she demanded, anxiously.

“Yes, Miss Janet.”

“Strike it, then.”

In the pent stillness of the dark office Janet could hear the Mexican girl fumbling in the pocket of her gingham dress. There came a scratching sound and a tiny flame.

“Be careful of it,” she warned. “Now give it to me. And close the door.”

Janet lighted the smoky lamp resting on the table, next took it up in her hand. A few papers had fallen upon the floor. The room was still strong with fresh cigarette smoke. Martinez could not have been gone more than five minutes.

And in another five minutes’ time too Martinez’ captors might be back again!

Holding the lamp aloft she peered about for an old chair, her heart beating rapidly, her lips compressed. But all the chairs, the three or four in the room, were old. Her eyes encountered the Mexican girl staring open-mouthed and scared.

“Take the lamp and keep by me,” Janet ordered. “Don’t upset it. What are you shaking for, you ninny?”

“I can’t help it––and you’re so white,” the other whimpered.

“Never you mind me; do as I say.”

Janet swiftly went from one chair to another, turning them about, upside down, all ways. No paper was hidden in or under any one of them, or indeed was there space capable of holding a document. At last she gave up, gazing about in dismay, dread, tears of vexation and anxiety almost rising to her lids. Only one conclusion was to be drawn: the men who had seized the lawyer had found the paper in spite of his precaution.

She examined the chairs a second time feverishly, for time was flying.

“I can’t find it, Juanita, the paper he telephoned me to come and get,” she exclaimed.

“Maybe it’s in there where he sleeps.” And the Mexican girl pointed at the inner door standing barely ajar.

“We’ll see.”

Janet led the way within. There was Martinez’ living- and sleeping-room. The furnishings comprised a bed, an old scratched bureau, a stand with wash-bowl, a red and black Navajo blanket on the floor, a trunk, a stool and a dilapidated stuffed chair––just such a chair as a paper could be hidden in. That into this room the lawyer’s assailants had burst their way was apparent from the splintered door hanging from one hinge at the rear.

Beckoning Juanita to bring the lamp, Janet ran to the arm-chair.

“Ah, here it is!” she cried, when she had turned the piece of furniture over and inserted her hand in the rent. “It wasn’t found, after all! Come away now.”

Relief and exultation replaced her depression of the moment before. She had succeeded; she had helped the lawyer outwit his enemies; she must now return home to await Steele Weir’s arrival, or if he failed in that then go to the dam.

In the outer room she bade the Mexican girl place the lamp on the table once more and blow it out. This was done. They groped forward to the door.

“Follow me out quietly, Juanita,” Janet said. “Only Mr. Martinez knows we’ve been here, and Mr. Weir, the engineer. See, I’m trusting you. This is a very important paper for Mr. Weir, and other men are trying to keep it out of his hands. So you must say nothing to any one about our being here.”

Juanita assented in a whisper. Janet thereupon 149 opened the door and the pair stepped forth. A faint hissing sound directly before them startled both. But the American girl immediately recognized it for what it was, the faint murmur of an automobile engine.

She quietly closed the office door, caught her companion’s arm to lead her away.

“Don’t talk,” she whispered in her ear.

At the same instant the beam of an electric hand torch flashed in their eyes, blinding them. Then as quickly the light was extinguished and a heavy blanket was flung over Janet’s head. Her cry was choked off, but not that of the Mexican girl who had been struck by the corner of the cloth and who heard her mistress struggling in the arms of the man who had seized her. The sound of the struggle moved towards the car and then Juanita, paralyzed by fright, was stunned by a sudden roar of the exhaust, a grind of gears, and a rush in the darkness. The automobile had gone, carrying off Janet Hosmer a muffled prisoner. Juanita regaining use of her legs fled for Doctor Hosmer’s unmindful of the mist against her face.

Janet’s sensation had been that of strangulation and terror. In the thick folds of the blanket, held and lifted by strong arms, all she could offer in the way of resistance was futile kicks. She had been jammed into the automobile seat and firmly kept there by an embrace while the car was being started, which did not relax as the machine gathered speed. For some minutes this lasted, while she strained painfully for breath, and then she perceived the car was stopping.

Her terror increased. What now would happen? These men after overpowering Felipe Martinez had abducted her in their determination to possess themselves 150 of the paper. Finding it in her hand––for she still clutched it––what then? Would they kill her?

The car was now completely at rest. The arm was withdrawn from about her; hands gripped her hands and forced them together; a handkerchief was tightly knotted about her wrists. Afterwards her ankles were bound by a strap. Then the blanket was lifted from her form and head and she gasped in again pure night air.

“Here’s a gag,” said the man at her side. “Keep quiet and I’ll not use it; if you open your mouth to make a sound, I shall. It’s up to you.” And with the hoarse threat she caught the heavy sickening odor of whiskey on the speaker’s breath.

“You, Ed Sorenson! You’ve dared to do this!” she exclaimed, fear vanishing in anger.

“Yes, sweetheart,” came with a mocking accent.

“Untie me this minute and let me out!”

“Oh, no. You’ve got the wrong line on this little game. We’re going for a ride, just you and me, as lovers should.”

Janet began to think fast.

“How did you know I was in Mr. Martinez’ office?” she demanded.

“Because I saw you go in, little one. I was just pulling up at your door to coax you out when I saw you and the Mexican wench appear. So I followed along. Saved me the bother of telling you your father had been hurt in an accident. He’s chasing off somewhere thirty miles from town on a ‘false alarm’ call to attend a dying man. Sorry I had to use the blanket; sorry I have to keep your naughty little hands and feet tied up. But it’s the only way. After we’re married, you’ll forget all about it in loving me.”

So this was the face of the matter. Not the paper 151 she gripped, but she herself was his object. His abduction of her had nothing to do with Martinez’ affair; he knew nothing of the larger plot; and for that reason she experienced a degree of relief.

“I’ll never marry you, be certain of that,” said she, recurring to his statement. “If anything had been needed to settle that point, what you have done now would be enough. You shall pay for this atrocious treatment. Untie my hands.”

“Oh, no. We’re starting on.”

“Your father as well as mine shall know of this.”

“I think not, dearie. We’re going up into the hills where I’ve a nice little cabin fixed up. And we’ll stay there awhile. And then when we come back, you’ll not do any talking. On the contrary, you’ll be anxious to marry me––you’ll be begging me to marry you. Of course! People know we’re engaged, and they’ll know you’ve been away with me for two or three days. Do you think they’ll listen to any story about my carrying you off against your will? They’ll wink when they hear it. Yes, you’ll be ready to marry me all right, all right, when we come back to San Mateo.”

Janet’s blood ran cold at this heartless, black plan to ensnare her into marriage.

“Ed, you would never do a thing like that,” she pleaded. “You’re just trying to scare me with a joke. Be a good fellow and untie my hands and take me home.”

“No joke about this; straight business. I told you you should marry me–––”

“You’re drunk or mad!” she burst out, terrified.

“Neither; perfectly calm. But I’m not the fellow to be tossed over at a whim. I’m holding you to your word, that’s all. You’ll change your mind back as it 152 was by to-morrow; you’ll be crazy to have me as a husband then. I won’t have to tie your hands and feet to keep you at my side when we come riding home to go to the minister’s. Now we’ve had our little talk and understand each other; and it’s beginning to drizzle. Time to start for our little cabin. The less fuss you make, the pleasanter it will be for both of us.”

He set the gears and the car started forward once more. A sensation of being under the paws of a beast, odious and fetid, savage and pitiless, overwhelmed her. That this was no trick of a moment but a calculated scheme to abase and possess her she now realized with a sort of dull horror. And on top of all he was, despite his denial, partly drunk.

Through the terror of her situation two thoughts now continued to course like fiery threads––one a hope, one a purpose. The former rested on Juanita, whom in his inflamed ferocity of intention, the man seemed to have forgotten––on Juanita and Steele Weir, “Cold Steel” Weir; and this failing, there remained the latter, a set idea to kill herself before this brute at her side worked his will. Somehow she could and would kill herself. Somehow she would find the means to free her hands and the instrument to pierce her heart.

Sorenson had switched on his lights. He drove the car through the damp darkness at headlong speed along the trail that leaped from the gloom to meet them and vanished behind. At the end of a quarter of an hour he swung into a canyon; and Janet perceived they were ascending Terry Creek. He stopped the car anew.

“I’ll just take no chances with you,” he exclaimed. “We have to pass your friends, the Johnsons, you know. Had to take my stuff up here in the middle of the night––up one night and back the next––and mighty still too, 153 so that they wouldn’t suspicion I was fixing a little bower for you.”

He bound a cloth over her mouth and again flung the blanket over her head. Janet struggled fiercely for a moment, but finally sank back choking and half in a faint. She was barely conscious of the car’s climbing again. Though when passing the ranch house the man drove with every care for silence, she was not aware of the fact. Her breath, mind, soul, were stifled. She seemed transfixed in a hideous nightmare.

At length her lips and head were released. But her hands and feet were numb. Still feeling as if she were in some dreadful dream she saw the beam of the headlights picking out the winding trail, flashing on trees by the wayside, shining on wet rocks, heard the chatter of the creek over stones and the labor of the engine.

The road was less plain, a mere track now, and steeper. They were climbing, climbing up the mountain side, up into the heavier timber, up into one of the “parks” among the peaks. Johnson’s ranch was miles behind and far below. Occasionally billows of fog swathed them in wet folds that sent a chill to Janet’s bones.

Sorenson held his watch down to the driver’s light.

“Ten o’clock; we’re making good time. Must give the engine a drink––and take one myself.”

He descended to the creek with a bucket, bringing back water to fill the steaming radiator. Afterwards, standing in the light of the car’s lamps, he tilted a flask to his lips and drank deep.

“Not far now; three or four miles. But it’s slow going. Have to make it on ‘low’,” said he, swinging himself up into his place.

Janet held her face turned away. She was thinking 154 of Juanita and Steele Weir. Had the girl gone home again? Or, terrified, had she run to her own home and said nothing? Had the engineer come and waited and learning nothing at last returned to the dam? Despair filled her breast. Even should the Mexican girl have apprised him of the kidnapping, how should he know where to follow? And in the solitude of the wet dark mountains all about her hope died.

She began desperately to tug against the handkerchief binding her wrists.

Suddenly the going became easier and she felt rather than saw that the trees had thinned. A flash of the car lamps at a curve in the trail showed a great glistening wall of rock towering overhead, then this was passed and the way appeared to lead into a grassy open space. A dark shape beside the road loomed into view––a cabin by a clump of pine trees. Sorenson brought the car to a stop a few yards from the house.

“Here at last,” he announced, springing down.

He unstrapped her feet, bade her get out.

“I make a last appeal to your decency and manhood––if you have either,” she said, sitting motionless.

“Rot,” he answered. Half dragging her, half lifting her, he removed her from the machine. Slipping a hand within her arm he led her inside the log house.

“Sit there,” he ordered.

Janet dropped upon the seat, a rude plank bench against the wall farthest from the door. Indeed, fatigue and the numbness of her limbs rendered her incapable of standing.

“When I’ve touched off this fire and set out some grub, then I’ll untie your hands,” he continued. “A snug little cabin, eh? Just the place for us, what? See all the stuff I’ve brought up here to make you warm and 155 happy and comfortable. Regular nest. Lot of work on my part, I want to say.”

He touched a match to the wood already laid in the fireplace, flung off his rain coat and stood to warm his hands at the blaze. Lighting a cigarette, he began placing from a box of supplies plates and food on the table in the middle of the room, but paused to reproduce his flask. With a sardonic grin he lifted the bottle, bowed to Janet and drank the liquor neat. When he had finished, he turned the bottle upside down to show it was empty, then tossed it into a corner. Again he fixed his drunken, mocking smile upon her.

“Can’t preach to me about booze here, can you, honey?” he said. “Ought to take a swallow yourself; warm you up. I have plenty. Guess I better untie your hands now.” He advanced towards her, swaying slightly. “You’re going to love me from this time on, ain’t you, girlie?” He untied the handkerchief and dropped it at his feet. “No nonsense now about trying to get away; I’ll rope you for good if you try to start anything. Hello, what’s that?”

“No; give it to me!” she cried, in alarm as he pulled the folded sheets of paper from her stiffened fingers.

“Something I ought to see, maybe.” Then he added harshly, “Sit down, if you don’t care to have me teach you a thing or two. I’m master here.”

He stepped to the table and drawing a box beside him settled upon it, pulled the candle-stick nearer and began to read the document. Janet glanced swiftly about the room for a weapon. Escape past him she could not, for by a single spring he could bar the way; but could she lay hand on a stick of wood she might fight her way out. None was nearer than the fire, and again he could interpose.

He read on and on, with a darkening brow and an evil glint showing in his eyes. Page by page he perused Saurez’ deposition until he reached the end. Then he got to his feet, shaking the paper at her head.

“You were in on this,” he snarled. “This is what you were in Martinez’ office to get. You’re wise to this cursed scheme to help Weir make my father and Vorse and Burkhardt and Judge Gordon out a gang of swindlers. So they trimmed his father of something––at least I fancy they did, and I hope to God they did, the coward! And you were in with them! You’re not quite the little white angel you’d have people believe, are you? Not quite so innocent and simple as you’ve made me think, anyway. Well, I’ll square all that. That slippery snake, Martinez, I’ll twist his neck the minute I get back to town. I’ll bet a thousand it was framed up to use this when Weir was arrested––but he’ll never use it now!”

He glared at the girl with a face distorted by rage.

“We’ll just burn it here and now,” he continued. “Then we’ll be sure it won’t be used.”

Janet gripped her hands tightly, while her lips opened to utter a wild protest at this desecration. What the document contained she did not yet know, except that it was evidence that fixed upon the men named guilt for some past deed in which Weir had suffered and which would bring them to account. But something more than protest was needed, she saw in a flash, to deflect the man from his purpose and save the sheets from the flame.

She shut her lips for an instant to choke the cry, then said with an assumption of unconcern:

“Go ahead. I didn’t want your father to see it, in any case.”

The paper had almost reached the candle, but the 157 hand that held it paused. Sorenson stared at it, and from it to her. At last a malignant curl of his lips uncovered his teeth.

“Oh, you didn’t want him to see it,” he sneered. “If that’s so, I’ll just save it. He’ll be interested in reading what your friends have prepared to destroy his good name and reputation.”

He folded the document and slipped it into his inner coat pocket. Then he walked towards her. At the look on his face Janet sprang to her feet.

“I’ve changed my mind about the marriage matter, just as you did,” he said. “I agree with you now; there won’t be any marriage. But I’ll have your arms about my neck just the same.”

And he seized her wrist.

“Let me go, let–––” The words ceased on her lips.

Her eyes were riveted on the cabin door; she scarcely felt the man’s loathsome touch on her arm. How had the door come unlatched? And was it only the wind that slowly moved it open?