Farnsworth had left Patty about two o’clock, and it was only a few moments later that her telephone rang.

Her response was answered by a tearful, wailing voice, that said, “Oh, Miss Patty, oh, can’t you come here at once? Come right away!”

“Come where? Who are you?” said Patty, bewildered, for she did not recognise the voice, and it sounded like some one in deep distress.

“Oh, don’t wait a minute! Every moment is precious! Just come at once!”

“But how can I come, if I don’t know who you are? I can help you better, if you’ll control yourself and tell me something about yourself and your trouble. First of all, who are you?”

“I’m Anne, Miss Galbraith’s maid. You know me, Miss Patty. Oh, come quick; Miss Mona has gone!”

“Gone! Where? Now, listen to me, Anne! Stop your crying, and tell me what you mean, and then I will go to you at once. Where are you? And where has Miss Mona gone?”

“I’m in her apartment, and I don’t like to tell you over the telephone where she’s gone. But,—Miss Patty,—I think,—Oh, I fear,—she has eloped with Mr. Lansing!”

The last sentence came in an explosive burst, as if the girl could keep her secret no longer.

“What!” exclaimed Patty. And then, suddenly realising that it was a desperate situation, she said, “Don’t say another word, Anne! I will go right straight to you. Stay there till I come.”

She knew the excitable character of the girl, and feared she might get hysterical if she talked further over the telephone. Patty hung up the receiver, and sat still for a moment, thinking deeply.

“I won’t tell Mrs. Allen,” she finally decided, “but I must have some one to help me,—to go with me. I believe I’ll call up Roger.”

But she couldn’t bear to do that. It seemed too dreadful to tell Roger what had happened. She thought next of Kenneth, who was a standby as a loyal friend, but he was far downtown in his office, and might be busy with an important case.

“Philip, of course,” she said to herself; but even with her hand on the receiver, another thought flashed through her mind. “No one could help me to save Mona like Big Bill!” she thought, and on a sudden impulse she called up his hotel.

“Bill,—it’s Patty,” she said, her voice trembling.

“Yes, dear; what is it? What is the matter?”

The kind, quiet voice, with its deep tones of sympathy and capability, made Patty realise that she had appealed to the right one. “Oh, Bill,” she went on, “there’s awful trouble, and you must help me.”

“Of course I will, Little Girl! Steady now; tell me what it’s all about. Do you want me to come there?”

“But you’re just starting for the West,” cried Patty, as she remembered this for the first time.

“That doesn’t matter, if you want me. I’ll be right over.”

“And wait a minute; tell me what you think we ought to do. I’ve heard from Anne that Mona is eloping with that awful Lansing man!”

“Then there’s no time to be lost! Take your little car, and go to The Plaza as fast as you can spin! I’ll meet you there, in the Galbraiths’ apartment.”

Bill hung up the receiver, without even a good-bye, and Patty gave a little sigh of relief, for it seemed as if he had taken the responsibility from her shoulders, and would manage the matter himself. She ordered her car, flung on her hat and coat, and with a hasty word to Mrs. Allen that she was going out, she drove her little electric herself down to the hotel.

When she entered the Galbraiths’ apartment, she found Farnsworth already there.

“It’s true,” he said, looking at her with a grave face. “That is, I think it must be. Mona went away half an hour ago, and took a suit case with her. She went in a motor with Mr. Lansing. Anne is worried, because this morning she overheard the two telephoning.”

“I wasn’t listening, Miss Patty,” said the tearful maid. “That is, I didn’t mean to, but Miss Mona was excited like, and her voice was so loud I couldn’t help hearing.”

“I’m glad you did, Anne,” said Patty, “it may help us to save Miss Mona yet. What else can you tell us?”

“Nothing, except that Miss Mona left a note on her father’s desk, and I thought maybe it might be to tell him she had gone.”

Big Bill strode over to the desk, and there, under a paperweight, lay a note, addressed to Mr. Galbraith. He picked it up, and looked at it, thoughtfully.

“Patty,” he said, “this isn’t sealed. Considering all things, I think it is our duty to read it, but you know more about such matters than I do. What do you think?”

Patty hesitated. She had always thought it little less than a crime to read a note addressed to another, but the circumstances made this case seem an exception. “We might telephone to Mr. Galbraith and ask his permission,” she suggested.

But Big Bill seemed suddenly to have made up his mind.

“No!” he declared, “I’ll take the responsibility of this thing. To telephone would frighten Mr. Galbraith, and would delay matters too much, beside. I shall read this note, and if I can’t square my action with Mr. Galbraith afterward, I’ll accept the consequences.”

The impressive manner of the big man, his stern, set face, and honest, determined blue eyes convinced Patty that he was right, and together they read the note.

In it, as they had feared, Mona told her father that she was going away to marry Mr. Lansing, because her father would not allow her to marry him otherwise. She expressed regret at the sorrow she knew this would bring to her father, but she said she was old enough to decide for herself whom she wished to marry, and she felt sure that after it was over he would forgive her, and call his two children back to him.

“Mona never wrote that note of her own accord,” exclaimed Patty, indignantly. “That man made her do it!”

“Of course he did!” agreed Bill, in a stern voice. “I know Lansing,—and, Patty, the man is a scoundrel.”

“You know him? I didn’t know you did.”

“Yes, I do! And I ought to have warned Mona more against him. I did tell her what his real nature is, but she wouldn’t listen, and I never dreamed she was so deeply infatuated with him. But we mustn’t blame her, Patty. She was simply under the influence of that man, and he persuaded her to go with him against her better judgment. But we must go after them and bring them back.”

“But you’re going West to-night.”

“Not unless we rescue Mona first! Why, Patty, she mustn’t be allowed to marry that man! I tell you he’s a scoundrel, and I never say that about a man unless I know it to be true. But this is no time to discuss Lansing. We must simply fly after them.”

“But how do you know where they’ve gone?”

“I don’t know! But we must find out, somehow. Perhaps the men at the door can tell us. Perhaps Anne can.”

“I only know this, sir,” said Anne, who was wringing her hands and weeping; “when Miss Mona was telephoning, she said something about Greenwich.”

“Of course!” cried Bill. “That’s exactly where they’d go! But wait, they would have to go for a license first.”

“Telephone the license man,” said Patty, inspired by Bill’s manner and tones.

“Right-O!” and after some rather troublesome telephoning, Bill announced, “They did! they got a license, and they started in a motor for Greenwich about half an hour ago! Come on, Patty! Anne, you stay right here, in case we telephone. If Mr. Galbraith comes home, don’t tell him a word about it. Leave it to me. I’ll be responsible for this note.” Bill put the note in his pocket, and almost pushing Patty out of the door, he had her in the elevator and downstairs almost before she knew it.

“Shall we take my little car?” she asked, as Bill strode through the lobby, and Patty hurried to keep up with him.

“Good Heavens, no! We want a racer. I’ll drive it myself.”

By the power of sheer determination, the big Western man procured a fast car in an incredibly short time, and in a few moments he and Patty were flying up Broadway.

“Now if you want to talk you may,” said Bill, and his voice was quiet and composed, though he was alertly threading his swift way through the traffic. “I had to be a little short with you while we were hurrying off, because I didn’t want to lose a minute. But now, all I have to do is to keep just inside the speed limit while we’re in the city, and then I rather guess there’ll be one big chase!”

“Oh, Bill, you are just splendid!” exclaimed Patty, with shining eyes, unable to repress her admiration of his capability and strength.

“But we haven’t accomplished anything yet, Patty; we’re only starting out to try. You know, it’s a hundred to one shot that we miss them,—for we’ve very little idea where they’ve gone.”

“But it’s a straight road to Greenwich.”

“Yes, but they may have turned off anywhere. They may change their minds a dozen times about their destination.”

“No, they won’t,” said Patty, positively; “not unless they think they’re pursued, and of course they’ve no idea of that. Speed her up, Bill; the way is clear now! I don’t believe they’re going at this pace.”

“Patty, you’re a good pal! I don’t believe any other girl would be as plucky as you are in such a case.”

“Why, I haven’t done anything,” and Patty opened her eyes wide, in surprise. “You’ve done it all—Little Billee.”

“You’ve helped me more than you know. With you by my side, I’m bound to succeed.” Big Bill bent to his wheel, and the swift machine flew along so fast that conversation became impossible.

As they neared Greenwich, Patty’s sharp eyes descried a dark red car ahead of them.

“That’s it!” she cried. “That’s Mona’s car! Chase ’em, Bill!”

“The nerve of him, to elope in her own car!” growled Bill, through his clenched teeth. “I told you he was a scoundrel, Patty!”

They were rapidly gaining on the red car, when, as it turned the corner, one of its occupants saw their pursuers, and Patty heard a shriek.

“That’s Mona’s yell,” she cried, in dismay. “They’ve seen us, Bill, and now they’ll get away from us!”

Sure enough, the pursuing car was swift, but the big Galbraith car was a speed wonder, and the elopers darted ahead with renewed determination to escape capture.

“Oh, what a shame!” wailed Patty. “They recognised us, and now they’ll get away.”

“Not if I know it!” and Farnsworth set his teeth hard. “Sit tight, Patty; we’re going to go faster!”

It didn’t seem as if they could go any faster, but they did, and if it had been anybody driving except Farnsworth, Patty would have felt frightened. But she knew his skill, and too, she knew that he never let excitement or enthusiasm run away with his judgment. So she sat as still as she could, striving to catch her breath in the face of the wind; and refraining from speech, lest she distract Bill’s attention even for a second.

At last, when they had a long, clear view ahead, and they saw the red car ever increasing the distance between them, Bill gave up.

“It’s no use, Patty; we can’t catch them! I’ve done all I can, but that car they’re in is a world-beater! They went through Greenwich like a streak. They would have been arrested, but no one could stop them. Oh, I say, My Little Girl,—I have an idea!”

“Is your idea faster than their car, Little Billee?”

“You bet it is! Just you wait and see; Patty, we’ve got ’em!”

Farnsworth turned around and drove rapidly back to Greenwich, which they had just passed through.

At a hotel there, he jumped out, told Patty to wait, and rushed into the office.

It was nearly ten minutes before he returned, and Patty could scarcely believe that whatever plan he had could be of any use after such delay.

He jumped in beside her, turned around, and in a minute they were again whizzing along, following the direction of the other car.

“I’ll tell you what I did, Patty,” he said, chuckling. “I telephoned to the Stamford Chief of Police, and asked him to arrest those people for speeding as they crossed the city limit!”

“Will they be speeding?”

“Will they be speeding? You bet they will! And even if they aren’t, they’ll be arrested, all the same, and held without bail until we get there! Oh, Patty, if the situation were not so serious, I could laugh at this joke on Lansing!”

On they went, at their highest speed, and reached Stamford not very much later than the red car they were following.

At the city line, they found this car standing, with two or three policemen forbidding its further progress.

Horace Lansing was in a violent fit of temper, and was alternating bribes with threats of vengeance, but the policemen were imperturbable, having been told the facts of the case by Farnsworth over the telephone.

Mona was weeping bitterly, and though Patty went to her with affectionate words, she stormed back, “Go away, Patty Fairfield! You have no right to interfere in my affairs! It was your prying that found this out. Go away; I won’t speak to you!”

“By what right have you followed us, Miss Fairfield?” began Mr. Lansing, looking at Patty, angrily.

But Farnsworth strode over to the speaker, and spoke to him, sternly but quietly. “Lansing,” he said, “it’s all up, and you know it! Now, I don’t want to have a scene here and now, so you have my permission to go away wherever you like, on condition that you never enter the presence again, of Miss Galbraith or Miss Fairfield.”

“Ho!” said Lansing, with an attempt at bravado. “You give me your permission, do you? Let me tell you that Miss Galbraith is my promised wife. We have the license, and we’re about to be married. It will take more than you to stop us!”

“Indeed,” said Farnsworth, and putting his hands in his pockets, he gave Lansing a contemptuous glance. “Well, then, I shall have to request assistance. If I tell this constable a good reason why he should detain you long enough to prevent your marriage to Miss Galbraith, would such an argument have any weight with you?”

There was an instantaneous change in Horace Lansing’s demeanour. From a blustering braggart, he became a pale and cringing coward. But with a desperate attempt to bluff it out, he exclaimed, “What do you mean?” but even as he spoke, he shivered and staggered backward, as if dreading a blow.

“Since you ask me,” said Farnsworth, looking at him, sternly, “I’ll answer frankly, that unless you consent to go away and never again enter the presence of these ladies, I shall inform these policemen of a certain little bank trouble that happened in Chicago——”

It was unnecessary to go on. Lansing was abject, and begged in pleading tones that Farnsworth would say no more. “I am going,” Lansing stammered, and without a word of farewell to Mona or even a glance at Patty, he walked rapidly away.

“Let him go,” said Farnsworth. “I can’t tell you girls about it, but I’ll explain to Mr. Galbraith. Mona, that man is not fit for you to know! He is guilty of forgery and robbery.”

“I don’t believe it!” declared Mona, angrily.

“You do believe it,” and Farnsworth looked at her steadily, “because you know I would not tell you so unless I knew it to be true.”

Mona was silent at this, for she did know it. She knew Bill Farnsworth well enough to know that if he made an accusation of that sort, he knew it to be the truth.

“But I love him so,” she said, sobbing.

“No, Mona, you don’t love him.” Bill spoke very gently, and as he laid his hand on Mona’s shoulder, she raised her eyes to look into his kind, serious face. “You were not much to blame, Mona; the man fascinated you, and you thought the foolish infatuation you felt for him was love. But it wasn’t, and you’ll soon forget him. You don’t want to remember a man who was a wrong-doer, I’m sure; nor do you want to remember a man who goes away and deserts you because he has been found out. Mona, is not his going away as he did, enough proof of his guilt?”

But Mona was sobbing so that she could not speak. Not angry sobs now, but pathetic, repentant sorrow.

“Now, it’s up to you, Patty,” said Farnsworth, cheerily. “You and Mona get into the tonneau of this Galbraith car, and I’ll drive you home. You chirk her up, Patty, and tell her there’s no harm done, and that all her friends love her just the same. And tell her if she’ll stop her crying and calm herself before she gets home, nobody need ever know a thing about this whole affair.”

Mona looked up at this, and said, eagerly, “Not father?”

“No, Mona dear,” said Patty. “Sit here by me and I’ll tell you all about it. How we read the note and kept it, and everything. And, Mona, we won’t even let Roger know anything about all this, because it would hurt him very much.”

“But Anne,” said Mona, doubtfully. “You say she told you where I went.”

“I’ll attend to Anne,” said Farnsworth, decidedly. “Can’t you go home to dinner with Patty, Mona? I think that would do you good.”

“Yes, do,” said Patty. “And stay over night with me. We’ll telephone your father where you are, and then, to-morrow, you can go home as if nothing had ever happened.”

“It’s a justifiable deception, Mona,” said Bill, “for I know how it would grieve the poor man if he knew about your foolish little escapade,—which is all over now. It’s past history, and the incident is closed forever. Don’t you be afraid Lansing will ever appear against you. He’s too thoroughly frightened ever to be seen in these parts again.”

“You come to dinner, too, Bill,” said Patty, as they took their places; “though I fear we’ll all be rather late.”

Farnsworth hesitated a moment, then he said, decidedly, “No, Patty, I can’t do it. I was to take the seven o’clock train to-night, but though I’ll miss that, I can take the nine o’clock, and I must go.”

“But, Little Billee, I want to thank you for helping me as you did. I want to thank you, not only for Mona’s sake, but my own.”

“That would be worth staying for, Little Girl, but it is a case of duty, you see. Won’t you write me your thanks,—Apple Blossom?”

“Yes,” said Patty, softly, “I will.”