She stopped. Something was stirring in the bushes on either side of her. Perhaps it was a rabbit or a fox. Probably somebody had dogged her footsteps.
"Who are you?" Marion cried. "Speak, or I call for help."
The threat was futile, considering the time of night. The bushes parted and two men appeared. Marion gave one loud scream, but before she could repeat the cry a hand was laid on her lips.
Whoever they were, they were not unduly rough. The hand that stayed further clamor was hard, but it was not cruel.
"You are not to cry out again," a voice whispered. "I will not injure you if you promise not to call out."
Marion indicated that she would comply with this suggestion. Immediately the hand fell from her lips.
"This is an outrage," she said. "Who are you?"
"That is beside the point," was the reply. "It is an outrage, but we are not going to treat you badly. We are unfortunately compelled to keep you for some four-and-twenty hours from the custody of your friends, but you may rest assured that you will be treated with every consideration."
"I am your prisoner, then?"
"Since you like to put it in that way, yes."