Mollie recoiled with a slight shriek, for it was not the voice of Sarah
Grant.

A dark figure started out of the corner on the moment, her hands were
grasped, and a handkerchief swiftly and surely bound round her mouth. It
was no longer in her power to raise an alarm.

"Now bind her eyes, Sarah," said the voice. "I'll secure her hands.
My pretty bird, it's of no use struggling. You're safely and surely
snared."

Her eyes were bandaged, her hands bound, and Mollie sat utterly helpless
and bewildered--a prisoner.

She could neither see, nor move, nor speak. The hack was rattling at a
fearful pace over the stony streets. Its noise would have drowned her
cries had it been in her power to utter any.

"Now, my dear Miss Dane," said that unknown voice, very close to her
ear, and all at once, in French, "I'll answer all the questions I know
you are dying to ask at this moment, and answer them truthfully. I speak
in French, that the good Sarah beside us may not comprehend. You
understand the language, I know."

He knew her, then! And yet she utterly failed to recognize that voice.

"In the first place, what does all this mean? Why this deception--this
abduction? Who am I? Where are you being taken? When are you to be
restored to your friends? This is what you would ask, is it not? Very