The man was masked, but Iris recognized his voice and form and she well knew it was the man who had intruded upon her in her aunt's room that night, and she was sure it was the man who had instigated the kidnapping and search by Flossie. Moreover, she realized it was the man she had seen in Chicago.

She felt an anxiety to detain him and somehow to get him in the grip of the law, but she could think of no way to do that.

She dared not take the pin from her belt, for his eyes were upon her, and the dusk, though deepening, left sufficient light for him to observe her movements.

"Now, look here," he said, speaking more roughly, "there's no Flossie here. You don't want me to take all the pins you have in your clothing, do you?"

This suggestion, and the threatening tone of the man, frightened Iris more than all that had gone before. She was not afraid of physical violence, something in the man's manner precluded that, but she sensed his desperate determination to secure the pin, and she knew he would search her clothing for it, if she refused to hand it over.

Also, she knew there was small use in trying to fool him. Since Stone had verified the fact that there was something about that special pin that made it of value, since this man had tried devious ways to get it, and since she was absolutely at his mercy, the outlook was pretty black.

A vague hope that Fleming Stone would come to her rescue was not well founded, for how could he know that the car that carried her off had turned into that little woodland road?

She thought of appealing to the manliness or better nature of her enemy, but she knew that he would only reply that if she would give him the pin he would not trouble her further. An idea of asking help from the man who was in the driver's seat of the car brought only the same conclusion.

"Come, now," said Pollock, for it was by that name she thought of him.

"I can't waste any more time. If you don't give me that pin in two seconds, I'll take it."

"Don't you dare!" exclaimed Iris, trying the effect of sheer bravado.

"Two seconds I'll give you, and they've pa.s.sed. You needn't scream, for we're far from any habitation."

He came nearer to her, and touched the frill that was about the neck of her gown.

Iris was at her wits' end. She knew she would give up the pin rather than have him search her clothing for it, and yet, she meant to put off her surrender as long as possible.

His own words gave her a hint, and though knowing it could do no good, she screamed loud and long.

The sound infuriated the man, and he sprang at her, grasping her round the waist.

"Stop that!" he cried, "Stop or I'll kill you!"

His fingers were at her throat, and his frenzy was such that Iris feared he would carry out his threat on a sudden impulse.

But the strangle-hold he had on her brought his body near hers, and by chance Iris' hand was flung against his side coat pocket, where she felt what was indubitably an automatic pistol.

Pretending to faint, she let her head sink backward, and he involuntarily put his hand back of her neck to support her.

With a quick motion she s.n.a.t.c.hed the pistol from his pocket without his knowledge.

Exultant, and feeling herself safe, Iris commanded him to release her.

He only laughed, and she whispered faintly, "Let me go, and I'll----"

Her voice died away as if from weakness, and he partially released his hold on her, which freed entirely her right arm.

With a wrench, she stepped back, and aiming the automatic at him, she said, quietly, "Step toward me, and I'll fire!"

With a profane exclamation, Pollock clapped his hand to his side pocket and fell back a pace or two.

"You little vixen!" he cried. "Give me that! You'll harm yourself!"

"Oh, no, I won't. But I'll harm you. Unless you give your driver orders to take me straight back home, I shall make this little weapon give good account of itself."

From where Iris now stood, she covered the two men, and her manner showed no signs of fear, as she calmly informed them that a move on the part of either would be followed by a shot.

"And," she said, "while I'm not an expert, I can manage to hit at this short range."

"Come, come, now, let's arbitrate," said Pollock, who, evidently, knew when he was cornered. "Give me the pin and I'll go halves with you."

"Halves of what?"

"Of the treasure. Oh, don't pretend you don't know all about it! Didn't that old smarty-cat you've got on the job tell you what the pin means?"

"If he did, _you_ don't know," said Iris, talking blindly, for she could make no guess why the pin was a factor in the case at all.

"Don't I? I'm the only one who does know! Your Stone detective can never get a cent's worth of good out of that pin without my help. I'm the only one on earth who knows its secret, or who can turn it to use. So, now, miss, will you make terms? Wait! You needn't take my word for this. Will you agree that if you return safe home with your precious pin, and when your precious detective fails to utilize the pin's secret, you'll let me disclose it to you, and you'll give me half the value of the jewels?"

"I most certainly will not!"

"Then, listen. I swear to you that you will never find those hidden jewels. Only I can tell you what the pin means, and how it leads to your aunt's fortune. Refuse my offer, and neither you nor anyone else will ever see one tiniest gem of your aunt's h.o.a.rd."

There was something in the man's voice that carried conviction. Iris was a good reader of human nature, and a surety of his truthfulness came over her.

But she was far from willing to accede to his terms.

"I do not entirely disbelieve you," she said, "but I most certainly will not give you the pin----"

"You said you didn't have it!"

"You interrupted me! I was about to say I will not give it to you, even after my return home."

"Then we'll take it now! Come on, Bob."

Evading the pointed pistol by a quick jump, Pollock dashed it from Iris'

hand, having really caught her off her guard as she grew interested in their conversation. The driver, Bob, sprang toward them both, and they seized Iris between them.

A terrific scream from the girl rang through the silent woods and as the pistol struck the ground it went off with a fairly loud report.

Iris felt her senses going as the two men clutched her roughly, but managed, in spite of a restraining hand, to give another loud scream.

And it was these sounds that guided Fibsy's flying feet toward the scene of conflict.

He had come with Stone in the car that the detective had used to follow Iris from Pellbrook, but as no one knew which way to look for the kidnapper's car, they had separated, and Stone with Campbell went hunting the highroads, while Fibsy, scenting the truth, had dived into the wood.

He had heard Iris' last scream, also the noise of the automatic, and he blew a loud blast on a shrill whistle, as he hurried to the girl.

Nearing the three, Fibsy's quick eyes saw the pistol on the ground, and he s.n.a.t.c.hed it up, and aimed it straight at the masked man.