“Don’t come. I’ll shoot!”
The man laughed, sneeringly, and advanced.
Ida fired. The ball carried high, knocking off his hat. But it halted the scoundrel.
Ida sprang through the door, dashed along the hall, finding the head of the stairs and rushed down them.
The man followed, shouting at the top of his voice, apparently calling the name of some one.
Descending the stairs Ida found an open door and rushed through it to see that she was in a small yard.
Hastily glancing about she saw a door in the fence. She sprang to this and found it unlocked. In a moment she was in the street.
But she was hardly through the gate than the man was upon her.
Ida drew her revolver again, but this time, as she leveled it, it was knocked from her hand by a man who had come from behind a tree.
She was overpowered again. In the struggle she tore the disguise from the man who had followed, and the hasty glimpse she had satisfied her that he was the man who had accosted her on the cars—the brown-bearded man.