It had been a terrible shock for Lady Ardane when, upon that sunny afternoon in the Abbey grounds, quick strong hands had been laid upon her, and, struggling furiously, she had been carried into the delivery van.

It was not that she was seized and held with great violence. On the contrary, for a calm voice enjoined those who were carrying her to be as gentle as possible, and on no account to bruise her.

Naturally, she was terror-stricken, but added to that was the awful indignity of being handled like she was. She, Helen Ardane, who all her life had been treated with the greatest of respect, and had never known what rough treatment was!

In her childhood, in those far-off days in Virginia, all tender and loving care had been lavished upon her. In her years of budding maidenhood she had held her court as a princess, and her smile or the touch of her hand had been gifts then, to be received, by her admirers, almost as a sacrament.

Then when she had come to Carmel Abbey as the young wife of the wealthy Sir Charles Ardane, her life had been almost that of a queen, for the highest in the land had paid tribute to her youth and beauty, and in the countryside around the great historic Abbey, she had been the one above all others to be revered and respected as the sovereign lady who held the livelihood and well-being of so many employees and dependants in her hands.

So, the events of that afternoon, apart from their awful terror, were a dreadful blow to her pride. It had all happened so suddenly, too. One minute she had been free and the proud mistress of her domain, and the next — she was a prisoner and cut off from all that world where it was hers to order and issue commands.

Once inside the van, the doors were banged to, a cloth was pressed against her face, a rug was wound quickly round her, and stretched out at full length upon the flooring, she was held down by many hands, so that she should make no movement. Then one of her arms was drawn out and she heard a calm voice say, “Steady now, you must keep her absolutely still.”

A moment later something was swabbed upon her arm, and she felt the sharp prick of a needle. “Now, don’t distress yourself,” she heard the voice say. “You are not going to be hurt in any way, but just going to be sent to sleep.”

Then a great peace began to fall upon her. The faces above became indistinct and faded away, she sank down and down, and finally was conscious of nothing more for a long time.

Then she began to awake, and her head was lifted up gently and she was given something to drink. Its taste was unpleasant, but she drank it quickly, for she was very thirsty.

After that everything was a confused dream. She was being jolted slowly along, and the smell of hay was strong in her nostrils. She thought she heard a man talking, and he must have been speaking to a horse, for he said, “Gee up, now,” many times, and often she heard the cracking of a whip.

The jolting ceased after a long while, and then she was lifted up and carried into the cold night air. Then she was laid carefully upon something soft, rugs were tucked all round her, and once again her head was lifted up and she was given something to drink that tasted now like hot milk.

“You’re quite all right,” came the same voice that she had heard before. “No one’s going to do you any harm, you’re just going to sleep, that’s all.”

She opened her eyes drowsily and saw the stars shining through the trees. She thought she was dreaming and lying in a dark wood. She closed her eyes again and dropped off to sleep.

Next, she partly woke up, and saw that the sun was shining, and at once someone bent over, and gave her more hot milk. Presently she was lifted up very gently, once again came the smell of hay, and the jolting recommenced.

Now she was conscious of the rumbling of wheels, and it seemed to go on for ever and ever. Her legs began to feel stiff, and moving them, she found that they were tied loosely at the ankles. She stretched one hand down to unloosen them, and at once a man with a pleasant face came from somewhere behind her and did it for her.

“We’ll soon be there now,” he said kindly, “and then you’ll be made more comfortable.”

Then she seemed suddenly to come to her senses altogether, and found that she was lying in a hay cart with hay piled all around her. She could only see the sky, and her eyes filled with tears when she saw it was so beautiful and blue, but she felt weak and heavy headed, and too listless to make any attempt to move.

Then the man who had loosened her bonds called out something, and the cart was stopped, and a few minutes later she was sitting up and given a basin of soup, but there must have been some drug in the soup she was sure, for she began to feel drowsy again at once, and very soon was asleep once more.

Her next awakening was in a soft bed, and opening her eyes she found she was in quite a fair-sized room, with a door at either end. It was scantily and shabbily furnished, with just a table, a wardrobe, a chest of drawers and a couple of chairs. There was no carpet upon the floor, and the one window was barred across with thick iron bars. She was partially undressed, with her frock hanging over the back of a chair near the bed.

For quite a long time she could not collect her thoughts or remember anything of what had happened. Then a flood of memories surged into her mind and she burst into tears. Everything had come back to her.

She was in the hands of her enemies at last.

She remembered being seized and carried into the van, the injection being put into her arm, the cups of hot milk, the night in the wood, the long journey among the hay, and finally, dimly, very dimly, being carried up some stairs in someone’s arms.

She slipped shakily out of bed, and turning the handle of the door nearest to her, found that it was locked. It was a thick and heavy door of solid oak. The door at the other end of the room was, however, ajar, and pushing it open, she found herself in a small bathroom. The bath was old and rusted, but apparently quite serviceable, and there was an oil heater attached. Upon a chair nearby were two clean folded towels, a sponge, and new cake of soap.

Returning to the bedroom, she looked out of the window, but could not see for any great distance, because of a white fog. There were no other habitations anywhere in sight, and it appeared to her that the house she was in was situated in a big meadow.

Suddenly she heard a sharp knock upon the locked door and a moment later, hearing the key being turned, she jumped hastily into bed.

A man entered the room, quite young and of nice appearance. He smiled when he saw her pulling the bed clothes up to her head.

“Good morning,” he said, in a very pleasant voice. “How do you feel? A little bit heavy, I expect, from the sleeping draughts we had to give you.”

“Where am I?” she asked hoarsely. “What have you brought me here for?”

The man seated himself upon a chair and regarded her in quite a friendly way.

“There need be no mystery about anything,” he said quietly, “and I’ll give you an explanation at once, so that you’ll know exactly how everything stands.” He took out a cigarette and lighted it. “You have been abducted, kidnapped, or whatever you like to call it in order that eventually we may obtain a certain sum of money for your release. You are not going to be hurt or ill-treated in any way”— he laughed —“and as it’s purely a matter of ￡. s. d., and you have plenty of it, you really need have no anxieties at all.”

“Then how much do you want?” she asked quickly.

“Ah! that is not settled yet,” he replied. “You see, we have your friend, Sir Parry Bardell, here as well, and we have not decided how much we can get out of you both.” He nodded. “But it will have to be a good sum for it means us all clearing away from the farm where we now live, and taking up new occupations in another part of the world.” He laughed. “It’s just like selling you our land here, with you paying a good price for it.”

“I’m willing to pay anything reasonable,” she said with a choke in her voice, “and so, I am sure, is Sir Parry, too.”

He shook his head. “But it’s not quite so easily settled as that, for we have to consider how the money is going to be paid over. That’s the trouble, for with the whole country roused and every police officer on the look-out for us, no cheque you might write would be of the slightest value. We should never dare to present it.”

“But where am I?” she asked again.

“And there again,” he replied at once, “there is no reason that you should not know. As I have told you, the property is going to be all yours very shortly, and so naturally you would like to learn something of what you are purchasing. You are upon the Methwold Fens, my lady, and the farm is known as Black Gallows. It is 1600 odd acres and will carry a large number of sheep, but my uncle and we boys have been busy in other ways of late, and in consequence the farm has been very much neglected.” He pointed to the window. “It is nicely situated, and on a clear day you can see the spire of Ely Cathedral. Your nearest town is Downham Market and as the crow flies you are not much more than a mile from the main London road.” He looked at his watch and rose to his feet. “But it’s nearly five o’clock and you must have something to eat.”

“I don’t want, anything,” she replied brokenly. “I couldn’t touch a thing.”

“Nonsense!” he replied. “I’ll bring you some cold chicken and ham and a small bottle of wine, but I’ll get you a nice hot bath first. It will do your head a lot of good. Oh! one thing more,” and he paused to give her a whimsical smile, “I’m called Prince and I’m afraid you’ll have to accept me as your maid as long as you are staying with us, for, unfortunately, you are the only woman upon the premises.” He shook his head. “But your ladyship need never give a thought to me, even if I come in when you are washing or dressing, for I have no personal interest in you at all. I never allow pleasure to interfere with business, and you are just business to me. Nothing more, you understand. I shall be coming into this room at all times.”

Lady Ardane blushed furiously, and her bosom rose and fell in her emotion.

“I hear you,” she replied, her voice shaking, “but it is a great indignity. I shall be obliged if you will always knock, and wait until I have answered you before you enter.”

“But it will be quite unnecessary,” he said carelessly, “for you can regard me as your doctor, quite uninterested — your clergyman, quite harmless — or as just the man who has come to mend the sash-cord of the window. I repeat I have absolutely no interest in you. I have carried you in my arms several times, and yet honestly, I do not remember whether you have a good figure or whether your bones protrude or not.” He bowed. “You are just a business proposition to me and to keep you in a good state of preservation is all my concern.”

He disappeared into the bathroom and she heard him whistling cheerfully as he prepared the bath.

“All ready, your ladyship.” he said with a bow, when presently he returned, “and you won’t be able to say you haven’t been well looked after.” He approached the bed. “Oh! by-the-bye let me look at your arm. I want to see the place where I gave you the injection. You won’t show it! Well, no matter, for it’s sure to be all right. I used a disinfectant before I inserted the needle. I was a medical student once, and the knowledge I gained has come in very useful.” He bowed. “Well, I’ll come back in half an hour and you shall have your dinner then. I’ll bring a lamp with me, too.”

She had the bath, and, greatly refreshed, partook of the meal he had soon provided. She had now in part resigned herself to her misfortunes, and was determined to make the best of things. She had not forgotten Larose and Naughton Jones, and although she was aware from Sir Arnold that they were both laid up from the injuries they had received, yet he had told her they would both soon be about again, and she had every confidence in them both — she blushed ever so little — especially in Larose.

But then followed long, dreary days of unvarying monotony. She saw Prince only when he brought in her meals and half an hour later when he returned for the tray. At first he had started asking her every morning how she was feeling, and passing remarks, too, about the weather, but she had either made no reply at all or just responded in curt monosyllables, until, in the end, he had ceased speaking to her at all, and some days, “Thank you” were the only words uttered in the room.

For some reason Prince would not explain, she was allowed no books or papers, and in consequence, in addition to looking out of the window, her own thoughts were her only occupation. She could see the carts and cars passing along the Ely road, and she used to brood over how care-free and happy their occupants would probably be. At any rate, she was sure they could have no such troubles as were hers, and how willing they would be to help her, she thought, too, if they only knew of the sad and lonely woman behind these prison bars!

Several nights, at dusk, when the wind was in the right direction, she heard the sound of church bells, the bells of eventide, and tears would well up into her eyes as she thought of how often she had sat with her little boy in the dim and shrouded light of the old Abbey chapel.

She thought a lot, too, about Larose in those days, for, since that night among the trees, her feelings towards him had undergone a great change. She had cordially disliked him up to then, for he had been so masterful and had treated her, not as if she were Lady Ardane and the proud chatelaine of Carmel Abbey, with its broad acres, but just as if she were a Mrs. Anybody on whose behalf his services had been called in in just the ordinary way.

But that night he had held her in his arms and she had been affected as she had never been affected before.

As a young girl she had been given for wife to a man whom she had learned to love and respect and in due time she had borne him a son. But she had had no thrill of passion for him, and he had never delved deeply into her woman’s nature. He had never roused in her what lifts man and woman, if only for a few short hours, into a heaven upon earth, and he had never touched upon those strings in her being, that in their vibrations make all else in life a common thing.

But now had come this stranger and, far above him in station, possessions and all that counts for honor in the social life, she was stepping down from the pedestal and looking up to him as if he were the sovereign ruler of her kingdom. She was often hot and angry with herself, and yet in her inmost thoughts there was a strange and wonderful sweetness in her homage and submission.

The days passed on, and then one afternoon a dense fog fell upon the Fens, and looking out from her window she was glad of it, because it hid the great world beyond. It was as an opiate for her longings for freedom and soothed and calmed her as if it were the end of everything, and she would soon sleep in peace and be mindful of her sufferings no more.

But the next morning the bright sunlight was streaming through her window again, and it brought back all her yearnings and sad thoughts again.

She had just finished breakfast, and then the monotony of everything was broken, and never again, had she only known it, was she to be without either hopes or fears to occupy her mind.

Suddenly she heard a strange voice shouting angry words outside upon the landing, the door was opened sharply and then, to her amazement, Sir Parry, the true and trusted friend of her widowhood, was thrust violently into the room, to be followed immediately by a man whom she had never seen before.

“Here he is,” shouted the strange man loudly, “and you two are to remain together until tomorrow and arrange how our money is to be paid over. It’s ￡100,000 we want, and you’ll have to think over how we’re going to get it. Tomorrow I shall come back to hear what you’ve got to say,” and with a black look that embraced them both, he went out and slammed and locked the door.

Lady Ardane almost choked in her great joy, and then running up to Sir Parry, who was standing trembling upon the threshold of the room, she threw her arms round his neck and burst into tears.

“Oh! uncle dear,” she sobbed, with her head buried into his shoulder, “how glad I am to see you. I have been so miserable.”

The tears were streaming, too, down Sir Parry’s face as he patted her fondly upon the cheek. “My darling Helen,” he exclaimed brokenly, “how you must have suffered, too!”

For a few minutes they stood clinging to each other, and then gently disengaging herself from his arms, she began wiping the happy tears away.

“Never mind, dear,” whispered Sir Parry in great emotion. “It will soon be over now, and then we shall all be happy again.”

They sat down upon the bed, side by side, and they told each other all that had happened since they had last been speaking to each other that afternoon in the Abbey grounds.

It appeared that Sir Parry’s sufferings had been much the same as her own. He had been drugged like she had been, and the same dreadful journey had been his through those long weary hours.

They calmed down presently, and then Sir Parry, holding her hand all the time, began discussing everything in a practical and business-like way. They were going to let him go away on the morrow, he said, and he would raise every penny he could find and bring back the ransom. But they had warned him, with many horrible threats, that if he gave the slightest inkling to anyone why he wanted the money, or where he’d been, or what had happened, then he would never see her again, for they were going to poison her and escape away.

Lady Ardane trembled and shuddered as she listened, and then, clinging to him tightly, averred that every penny of the money would be returned to him, for, directly she was free, she would raise it from the Ardane estates.

Then suddenly, in the midst of their talking, a sharp, vicious crack came up from just below them, and Lady Ardane, her nerves all on edge, sprang to her feet.

“What was that?” she asked with widely-opened eyes. “It sounded like a pistol being fired.”

Sir Parry looked startled, too, and seemed very frightened, but the sound was not repeated, and after a moment, he exclaimed reassuringly, “No, no, it was not a pistol. It was only the cracking of a whip. Someone was going by on a horse.”

So their conversation was resumed, and hour after hour they considered how the huge sum of ￡100,000 could be raised.

Then gradually, very gradually, a subtle feeling of embarrassment began to mar Lady Ardane’s supreme happiness in being reunited to her friend, for Sir Parry’s affection for her became so effusive, and he kept on kissing her, and would not let go her hand. He kissed her once on the lips, too, and asked her to kiss him back. Finally, she rose and moved away from him and sat down upon a chair, but he followed after her, and moving up another chair close beside her, again wanted to hold her hand.

Then when, just after noon, the same man who had thrust Sir Parry so unceremoniously into the room appeared with the dinner tray and plumped it down upon the table and retired again without a word, Sir Parry wanted to drink out of the same glass she was drinking from, and she did not like it at all. He never took his eyes off her either, and in the end she became really frightened. At last a remark he made almost terrified her.

“Of course, dear,” he said nervously, and evading her eyes, “my being alone with you here until tomorrow will compromise you, if anyone hears of it, but we must try and keep it from everyone and get married the first moment we can. I’ll bring back a special license with me and it’ll be as my wife that you will return to Carmel Abbey.”

Her heart almost stood still, but she had perfect control of herself.

“No, uncle,” she replied firmly, “I shall never marry again. I’m determined upon that.”

He looked very upset, and shook his head solemnly. “But you must think it over,” he said, “for a woman’s reputation is the most precious possession that she has”— his eyes filled with tears —“and I could not have a breath of scandal against you, for anything in the world.”

Then she began to doubt him, and was sure that he was deceiving her in some way, for he said suddenly, “And I’ll be a good father to little Charles.” His face brightened as if he were imparting good news. “He’s included in the ransom money, of course, and they will give him up directly it is paid.”

“Where is he?” she asked suspiciously.

“Somewhere in London,” he replied. He hesitated. “They won’t tell me exactly where, but I think he’s in Kensington.”

“Who got him for them?” She asked, and her voice was now as hard and stern as a cross-examiner in a court.

He hesitated again. “I’m not quite certain,” he replied. “They never told me, but it was one of the servants, I think. Charles was hurried on board that yacht they have, and they said he was in London the next day.”

Then an instinct told her that he was lying, and had no knowledge of the whereabouts of the child, for his eyes had been everywhere but upon her when he had spoken, and he picked his words slowly, as if he were making it all up as he went along.

From that moment a great change took place in her, and she was no longer the weeping, clinging creature broken all to pieces by her misfortunes. Instead, she had become all at once, in the space of a few seconds, so it seemed, a strong and resolute woman, nerving herself to face new dangers and deal with them as they came.

But she was tactful with it, too, and to check the amorous advances of Sir Parry, without any appearance of noticing them, at once gave him some work to do. “Now you clean out that bath-heater,” she said sharply, “there’s something wrong with the carrier of the wick, and you’ll have to take it all to pieces. I can’t raise it up far enough to get any heat in the water,” and she herself began remaking her bed and shaking up the mattress violently.

But the tasks could not last forever, and Sir Parry was soon back in the bedroom again. She would not now, however, allow him to come near her. “I’m hot and tired,” she said crossly, “and want to think. So, leave me alone, please, and don’t talk any more.”

He received the rebuff with a disagreeable frown, and then with his eyes still fixed intently upon her, began muttering angrily to himself. Some of his words s............