"I shall consider it my duty to do all I can for you," went on Nick Smithers. "You--you--well, to tell the strict truth, you interest me mightily. In fact, Miss Rosemead, I can't help but love you."

"Oh!"

"I trust that you are not offended?" said the swindler, hastily.

"Oh, no, Mr. Powers. But--I didn't quite expect this. But I--I well, I like you, too." And again the girl bent her dark brilliant eyes on him.

"If you'd marry me you'd make me the happiest man in America!" went on Nick Smithers. "It would be so romantic!" he whispered. "Think of how we met on the cars, and fell in love at sight!"

"It would be romantic!" she clasped her hands together. "I'll do it!"

"Good! It will be a fine thing to outwit this uncle of yours."

"Yes! yes! We must outwit him by all means. If he should learn of what I am doing----"

"He can learn the truth--after we are married, Clara." And then Nick Smithers gave the girl's hand a tight squeeze. Had they been in a more secluded place he would have kissed her.

"I--I--am happy!" she said, softly.

"What do you say to getting married when we reach Albany?" went on the swindler. "Then we can return to your home and demand that your uncle make a settlement."

"I shall do as you think best, Lancelot. I know I can trust you," she answered.

"This is the safest snap yet!" thought Nick Smithers. "Once I get hold of her money I can hold her right under my thumb. She has been kept in such seclusion that she knows absolutely nothing of the world at large.

And such a beauty, too! Nick, for once you have certainly struck it rich!"

CHAPTER XXIX

THE CAPTURE OF NICK SMITHERS

During the next half-hour Nick Smithers and the young lady became very confidential. She stated that she had just fifty dollars with her, but did not show the money.

"My uncle is a strange man in some things," she said. "He keeps not less than ten thousand dollars of my money in the house, and all in dollar bills!"

"He certainly must be strange," said Nick Smithers. "Well, it will be an easy matter for him to turn over the bills to you."

"Yes, Lancelot; but you will have to take care of the money for me."

"I'll certainly do that," was the swindler's quick reply, and then he smiled to himself, over the glorious prospect ahead.

There was a dining-car attached to the train, and not long after the conversation recorded above, the swindler asked his bride-to-be if she would not take lunch with him.

"Why, yes," she answered. "I am very hungry, for I have not eaten anything since yesterday."

"Then come at once," was the answer, and Nick Smithers led the way into the dining car. He pa.s.sed Nat, who was busy devouring a sandwich and a piece of pie, but strange to say neither saw the other.

Nick Smithers and the young lady had just ordered an elaborate lunch, when of a sudden the damsel gave a cry.

"Oh!"

"What is the trouble?" questioned the swindler.

"Do you see that man?" And the young lady pointed to a small individual who had just entered the dining car.

"Yes. What of him?"

"He is my--my uncle!"

"Is it possible? Then he must be following you."

"He is!"

"Well, I shall protect you, so do not fear," whispered Nick Smithers.

"Remember, we are to be married to-day. He shall not stop you. He can't do it, for you are twenty-one."

"Oh, Lancelot, I--I am so afraid!"

By this time the small man had reached the table at which the couple were seated. He stared in amazement.

"Hullo, Miss Jacobotson, what are you doing here?" he cried.

"Don't touch me!" screamed the young lady, wildly. "Don't touch me."

"This young lady is under my protection," came loftily from Nick Smithers.

"Really?" said the small man. "Since when?"

"Never mind since when. She is under my protection, and I do not want you to molest her."

"Say, do you know who she is?" asked the little man, curiously.

"I do."

"Well, she has got to go back to the asylum, and that is all there is to it."

"Asylum?" gasped Nick Smithers.

"That is what I said."

"I'll not go back!" screamed the young lady. "Lancelot, protect me!" and she clutched the swindler around the neck.

"Do you mean to tell me she belongs in an asylum?" came faintly from Nick Smithers.

"She does. She escaped from the lunatic asylum at Sarville yesterday."