Seeing that his victim had lost consciousness, the man paused in his work, and turned around to Lamont with a loud laugh.
"A capital night's work," he declared. "You ought to have made good your time by having three or four simpletons like this one, who wears expensive jewels, fall in love with you."
It was fully an hour after Victor Lamont's accomplices—for such they were—had retreated, that Sally opened her eyes to consciousness.
For a moment she was dazed. Where was she? This was certainly not her room at the Ocean House.
In an instant all the terrible scenes she had passed through recurred to her. She was in the cab—alone! With a spasmodic gesture, she caught at her neck. Ah, Heaven! the diamond necklace, all her jewels, were indeed gone!
With a cry that was like nothing human, she sprung to her feet, and at that moment she heard a deep groan outside, and she realized that it must be Victor Lamont. Perhaps they had hurt him; perhaps he was dying.
"Oh, Mr. Lamont," she cried out in agony, "where are you?" and waited breathlessly for his response.
"Here," he groaned; "bound fast hand and foot to the wheel of the cab. Can you come to my aid?"
With feet that trembled under her, and hands shaking like aspen leaves, she made her way to him, crying out that her diamonds were gone.
"How shall I ever forgive myself for this night's work!" he cried. "Oh, Mrs. Gardiner—Sally—why don't you abuse me? Why don't you fling it into my face that it was all my fault, persuading you to take this ride that has ended so fatally? For myself I care not, though I am ruined. They have taken every penny I had with me. But it is for you I grieve."