"Mr. Horace Larkin,

"_Dear Sir_:

"In answer to the ad. in the _Daily Record_, we are dealing through you as the agent named by Mrs. Price. We do this as we realize that a lady of Mrs. Price's type and experience would be unable to handle alone so important a matter. Before we enter into details we must again repeat our warnings-not only the return of the child but her life is dependent on the actions of her mother and yourself. If you are wise to this and follow our instructions Bebita will be restored to her family on Sat.u.r.day night.

"The plan of procedure must be as follows: At eight-thirty a roadster, containing only the driver and marked by a handkerchief fastened to the windshield, must leave the village of North Cresson by the Cresson turnpike, at a rate of speed not exceeding fifteen miles an hour. It must proceed eastward along the pike for a distance of ten miles. Somewhere during this run a car will pa.s.s it and from its tonneau flash an electric lantern twice. Follow this car. Make no attempt to hail or to overtake it. It will turn from the main road and proceed for some distance. When it stops the driver of the roadster must alight, place the money at a spot indicated, and submit, without parley, to being bound and gagged. When this is done the child will be left beside him. If agreed to insert following personal in _The Daily Record_ of Sat.u.r.day morning: 'James, meet you at the time and place specified. Tom.'

"(Signed) _Clansmen_."

The letter fluttered to the desk and Suzanne sank into a chair. Larkin looked at her; his glance showed some anxiety but his voice was hearty and encouraging:

"Well, you agree, of course?"

She nodded, swallowing on a throat too dry for speech.

He picked up the letter and ran a frowning eye over it:

"It simply confirms what I thought-old hands. It's about as secure as such a thing could be. I don't see a loose end."

She made no answer and he went on still studying the paper:

"I'm not familiar with this country, but they wouldn't have picked it out unless it offered every chance of escape."

"Escape!" she breathed. "They've _got_ to escape."

It made him smile, the eye he turned on her showed a quizzical amus.e.m.e.nt:

"You're almost talking like an accomplice, Mrs. Price." But he quickly grew grave as he met her tragic glance. "Pardon me, I shouldn't have said that, but the fact is, with the climax in sight, I'm a bit on edge myself." Then with a brusque change of tone, "Do you know this section of Long Island?"

"Yes, well-I've driven over it often."

"Am I right in thinking there are numbers of roads leading from the Cresson Turnpike?"

"Lots of them, to the Sound and inland."

"Umph!" he threw the letter on the desk and sat down, "I don't think you need worry about their getting away. Now we must settle this up and then I'll go out and have the ad inserted. We've got to hustle-they've only given us a little over twenty-four hours."

She looked dazedly at him and murmured:

"What have we got to do?"

"Why-" he was very gentle as to a stupid and bewildered child-"we have to arrange about this car-our car, the one that gets the signal."

"We can hire it, can't we?"

"Well, we could hire the car, but the driver-we can't very well hire him. He must be some one upon whom we can rely."

She stared at him, her eyes dilating:

"Yes, yes, of course. I'd forgotten that."

"Is there any one you can suggest-any one that you _know_ you could trust and who would be willing to undertake it?"

"Yes," the word came with a sudden decision. "I know some one." Larkin eyed her sharply. She looked more alive than she had done since her entrance, seemed to be vitalized into a roused, responsive intelligence.

"I know exactly the person."

"Entirely trustworthy?"

"Absolutely. Mr. Ferguson-d.i.c.k Ferguson."

"Oh, yes, Ferguson of Council Oaks." He mused a moment under her hungry scrutiny. "Do you think he'd be willing to-er-agree to their demands as you have?"

"Yes, he'd do it to help me. He's an old friend; I know him through and through. He'd do it if I asked him."

The detective was silent for a moment, then said:

"Well, we have to have some one and if you're willing to vouch for him I'll abide by what you say. Before you came in I was thinking of offering to do it myself. But there are reasons against that. I don't mind helping you this way-quietly, on the side-but to be an actual partic.i.p.ant in the final deal, handle the money, be more or less responsible for the person of the child-I'd rather not-I'd better not.

And anyway I think I can be more useful as an observer, an unsuspected spectator who may see something worth while."

She gave a stifled scream and caught at his hand, resting on the edge of the desk:

"No, no, Mr. Larkin, _please_, I beg of you. You're not going to try and catch them."

Her fingers gripped like talons; he laid his free hand over them, soothingly patting them:

"Now, now, Mrs. Price, please have confidence in me. Am I likely, at this stage of the game, to do anything to queer it?"

She did not reply, her eyes shifting from his, her teeth set tight on her quivering underlip. He waited a moment and then spoke with a new note, dominating, authoritative, as one in command:

"My dear lady, you've got to get hold of yourself. I can't go on with this if you don't trust me. We're launched on an enterprise by no means easy and if we don't pull together we'll fail, that's all."

That steadied her. She dropped his hand and broke into tremulous protestations:

"I do, I do, Mr. Larkin. It's only that I'm so terribly afraid, so upset and desperate. Of course I trust you. Would I be here, day after day, if I didn't?"

He was mollified, dropped back with the crisp, alert manner of the detective.

"All right, we'll let it go at that. Now as to Ferguson-you'll have to get word to him at once. Is he in the country?"

"No-he's here. I had a telephone from him this morning to say he was in town and would be at the hotel later in the day. He's probably there now, waiting for me."

"Um!" Larkin considered for a moment. "That's lucky. There's no time to waste. Get his consent and then 'phone me here. Just a word. And you understand he'll have to know the circ.u.mstances; he'll have to be wise to everything if he's to play his part."

Suzanne had lied so long and so variously that she did it with a natural ease. No one, having seen her as Larkin had, would have guessed the knowledge she hid. Her air of innocently comprehending his charge was a triumph of duplicity.

"Of course, I know, I understand. It'll be a dreadful surprise to him but he'll see it as I do. And he'll do what I ask-I'm as certain of that as I am of his secrecy."

She would have to have the letter to show him, and Larkin, after a last, careful perusal of it, handed it to her. Then she went, cutting off his heartening words of farewell, making her way out in a quick, noiseless rush. At the desk in the hotel she learned that Ferguson was there, asked to have him apprised of her return and sent at once to her sitting room.