and the kitchen as he went. Helen was now left alone in darkness with
Bill, who, she thankfully observed, seemed disposed to pay no
attention to her so long as she remained quietly in the old
loose-jointed rockingchair in which she was seated.

Ten minutes later an automobile drove up in front of the house and
Jake reappeared.

"It's almost stopped snowing, luckily," he remarked, "or we'd have our
troubles makin' this trip tonight. A little more snow and a little
more drifting and we'd be in a pretty pickle."

Helen was certain she recognized Jake's voice now. How she wished she
could get a glimpse of his face in even the poorest candle light.

Bill now threw a large shawl over her head and brought it around so
that it concealed both the gag over her mouth and the rag manacle on
her wrists. Then he pinned it carefully so that it might not slip
awry, and ordered her to go with him quietly out to the automobile.
Jake had just made an inspection up and down the street and reported
the coast clear.

"Now, mind you, young lady," Bill warned significantly; "not a word or
a wiggle out o' the ordinary or you'll get your final choke, and you
know what that means."

Yes, Helen knew, and she had no intention of futilely provoking a
repetition of such punishment. She accompanied her captors
submissively and was assisted into the machine. Then something
happened which might almost be said to have delighted her if it were