CHAPTER IV
DANGEROUS SECRETS
ONCE within the borders of her father’s estate and hidden in a clump of bushes near the hedge, all idea of flight left Doris’s head. She was home and the familiar scene gave her confidence. From the middle of her clump of bushes grew a spruce tree, and into it she quickly climbed until she reached a point where she could see the figures in the road beside the quivering machines. She had not been followed. The five men were gathered around Cyril, who was protesting violently at the outrage. They had not missed her yet. Stryker was on his knees beside the stricken wheel.
“Come, now,” she heard the leader saying, “you’re not to be hurt if you’ll give ’em up.”
“Why, old chap, you’re mad,” Cyril was saying coolly. “I was thinkin’ you wanted my watch. You chase me twenty miles in the dead of night and then ask me for cigarette papers. You’re chaffin’—what?”
“You’ll find out soon enough,” said the tall man gruffly. “Off with his coat, Jim. . . . Now search him.”
Cyril made no resistance. Doris could see his face quite plainly. He was smiling.
“Rum go, this,” he said with a puzzled air. “I only smoke made cigarettes, you know.”
But they searched him thoroughly, even taking off his shoes.
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