Drive on, Jim--drive like hell!" This last was addressed to the man who had taken George's place on the box, where a fourth member of Slosson's band had forced the coachman down into the narrow space between the seat and dashboard, and was holding a pistol to his head while he sternly enjoined silence.
With a word to the horses Jim swung about and the carriage rolled off through the night at a breakneck' pace.

Betty's shaking hands drew Hannibal closer to her side as she felt the surge of her terrors rise within her.

Who were these men--where could they be taking her--and for what purpose?
The events of the past weeks linked themselves in tragic sequence in her mind.
What was it she had to fear?
Was it Tom who had inspired Norton's murder?
Was it Tom for whom these men were acting?
Tom who would profit greatly by her disappearance or death.
They swept past the entrance at Belle Plain, past a break in the wall of the forest where the pale light of stars showed Betty the corn-field she and Hannibal had but lately crossed, and then on into pitchy darkness again.

She clung to the desperate hope that they might meet some one on the road, when she could cry out and give the alarm.

She held herself in readiness for this, but there was only the steady pounding of the big bays as Jim with voice and whip urged them forward.