low voice, "To the Plaza quickly," then immediately added, with a
characteristic practical turn: "But don't get yourself arrested for
speeding."

"No, Mademoiselle, with this car I can make--" Even as the chauffeur
replied, Miss Redmond's sharpened senses detected a passage of glances
between him and the stranger, now close behind her.

She sprang into the tonneau and seized the door, but not before the man
had caught at it with a stronger hold, and stepped in close after her.
The chauffeur was in his seat, the car was moving slowly, now faster
and faster. Suddenly the bland countenance slid very near her own,
while firm hands against her shoulders crowded her into the farther
corner of the tonneau.

"O Renaud--Hand!" she cried, but the driver made no sign. "Help,
help!" she shrieked, but the cry was instantly choked into a feeble
protest. A mass of something, pressed to her mouth and nostrils,
incited her to superhuman efforts. She struggled frantically, fumbled
at the door, tore at the curtain, and succeeded in getting her head for
an instant at the opening, while she clutched her assailant and held
him helpless. But only for a moment. The firm large hands quickly
overpowered even the strength induced by frenzy, and in another minute
she was lying unresisting on the soft cushions of the tonneau.

The car careened through the streets, the figure of the unresponsive
Hand mocked her cries for help, the neat hard face of the stranger
continued to bend over her. Then everything swam in a maelstrom of
duller and duller sense, the world grew darker and fainter, till
finally it was lost in silence.