Something _was_ decidedly wrong, and fear crept into her heart.

She pounded on the glass windows with all her strength, and shouted as loudly as she could, but all to no avail.
Swiftly the limousine whirled over the dusky road and either her voice could not be heard through the glass cage in which she was confined or there was no one near who was willing to hear or to rescue her.
She now realized how wrong she had been to sit idly during the trip across the ferry, where a score of passengers would gladly have assisted her.

How cunning her captors had been to lull her fears during that critical period! Now, alas, it was too late to cry out, and she had no idea where she was being taken or the reason of her going.
Presently it occurred to her that this was not Arthur's limousine at all.

There was no speaking tube for one thing.

She leaned forward and felt for the leathern pocket in which she kept a veil and her street gloves.