Marcia, collecting her cool poise, began, “I suppose you must be in charge of this gang, Madame-”

“Madame-that’s a hot one,” guffawed Bill, but Joe angrily murmured, “Can it, you sap!”

The unknown woman regarded Marcia a moment, then replied, “Yes, I am.”

“Well, then, how much do you want to let me go? My father will pay any ransom; of course- you realize we’re important people-and the police will surely track you down if you aren’t careful, of me.”

“We’ll be very careful with you, honey,” said the woman and the ghost of a smile played on her heavily rouged lips. “Suppose, now, you take off that coat.

What’s your name, by the way?”

“I don’t have to tell you until I’m sure you’ll get in touch with my parents,” said Marcia, “and as for taking off my coat, I’m not to be ordered!”

“Her coat, Joe,” snapped the woman, compressing her lips. And before the surprised Marcia could defend herself, Joe had seized her neck with his left hand and wrenched the expensive coat off her shoulders with his right.

“Oh! You unspeakable brute!” exclaimed Marcia, pale with anger and she struck out with her gloved right hand, slapping him across the mouth.

Sheltered as she had been from the world in her pampered eighteen years, she was totally unprepared for his reaction: it caule, in the form of a brutal blow of his palm across her cheek that sent her reeling, dazed, her flawless skin crimsoned from the blow.

“Ohbhhh!” she gasped, tottering and regaining her equilibrium.

“Take her up to her room, Bill,” said the woman. “She’ll need to freshen up a bit before customers start arriving.”

Marcia’s befuddled brain vaguely registered these words; her assurance and insolence had been so staggered by the swift pace of events that she did not protest when the younger guard set heavy fingers on her gloved wrist and led her up the stairs at the back of the foyer of the house.