Fleming’s car had halted and Fleming himself had jumped out and run wildly to the gate, looking up the track to see if the train was nearly by. He saw at a glance that it would not have passed before Joe would be upon him.
From the other side of the car, Mabel had leaped as soon as it had stopped. She came running back up the road, and Joe, who had stopped, rushed forward and took her in his arms. She was sobbing with fright and excitement, and Joe held her close as he tried to soothe her.
Fleming saw that the game was up and promptly darted off into the wood at the side of the road.
“After him, Jim!” cried Joe. “Don’t let him get away!”
Jim darted after the fugitive. Fleming put on all possible speed, but he was no match for the seasoned athlete, and a moment later Jim’s muscular hand had him by the collar.
“Let me go,” snarled the wretch, struggling desperately.
“Come along,” growled Jim, dragging him to the spot in the road where Joe was comforting Mabel, who was gradually getting back some of her self-control.
The tender look in Joe’s eyes was replaced by one of a different character as he looked at the flushed, dissipated face of the man who stood before him, still held by Jim.
“Now, Mr. Beckworth Fleming, I have an account to settle with you.”
Fleming shrank back as far as Jim’s grip would let him before the steely look in Joe’s eyes.