LITMIR.BIZ

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and she now consulted them before she asked.

      "No. 52 – street; is that far, Henry?"

      "It's a five minutes' walk," he answered. "I can go and come in twenty minutes, allowing time for an answer."

      "Very good," she said, abruptly, and wrote rapidly:

      Clarence Vaughan.

      No. 52 – street.

      Sir – Having no other friend at hand, I take you at your word. I need your aid, to rescue me from the power of a bad man. Will you meet me, with a carriage, at the south corner of this block, in one hour, and take me to Mrs. Girard, who has offered me a shelter? You know the danger I wish to escape. Aid me "in the name of your mother."

Madeline "Weir."

      This is what she penned, and looking up she asked: "What is the number of this place, Henry?"

      "91 Empire block," he replied; "C – street."

      She added this, and then folding and enclosing, addressed it to Clarence Vaughan, M. D., etc.

      "There, Henry, take it as quickly as you can; and some day I will try and reward you."

      She smiled upon him as she gave him the letter. He took it, bowed low, and hurried away.

      She listened until the sound of his footstep could be heard no longer. Then rising quickly, she opened the receptacle that held the portrait of the woman who, though unseen, was still an enemy. Long she gazed upon the pictured face, and when at last she closed the case, springing the lock with a sharp click, she muttered between set teeth:

      "I shall know you when I see you, madame."

      Crossing to the pistol bracket, she took the little weapon in her hand, and picking up one of the cartridges left by its careless owner, loaded it carefully. Having done this she placed the weapon in her pocket.

      She paced to and fro, to and fro; nothing would have been harder for her than to remain quiet then. Her eyes wandered often to the tiny bronze clock on the marble above the grate.

      Ten minutes; her letter was delivered, was being answered perhaps; – fifteen; how slowly the moments were going! – twenty; what if he should return, too soon? Instinctively she placed her hand upon the pocket holding the little pistol. Twenty-five minutes; what if her messenger should fail her? And that card had clearly stated "office hours three to five." Twenty-six; oh, how slow, how slow! – twenty-seven; had the clock stopped? no; – twenty-eight – nine – half an hour.

      Where was Henry?

      She felt a giddiness creeping over her; how close the air was. Her nerves were at their utmost tension; another strain upon the sharply strung chords would overcome her. She felt this vaguely. If she should be baffled now! She could take fresh heart, could nerve herself anew, if aid came to her, but if he should come she feared, in her now half frenzied condition, to be alone, she was so strangely nervous, so weak!

      How plainly she saw it, the face of Clarence Vaughan. Oh, it was a good face! When she saw it again she could rest. She had not felt it before, but she did need rest sorely.

      Thirty-five minutes, – oh, they had been hours to her; weary, weary time!

      How many a sad watcher has reckoned the flying moments as creeping hours, while sitting lonely, with heavy eyes, trembling frame, and heart almost bursting with its weight of suspense – waiting.

      Forty minutes – and a footstep in the passage! Her heart almost stopped beating. It was Henry.

      "I had to wait, as he was busy with a patient," said he, apologetically, handing her the letter she desired.

      Madeline tore open the missive with eager fingers, and read:

      Miss Madeline W.:

      Thank you for your faith in me. I will meet you at the place and time appointed. Do not fail me. Respectfully,

C. Vaughan.

      She drew a long breath of relief.

      "Thank you, Henry. Now I shall leave this place; promise me that you will not tell your master where I went or how. Will you promise?"

      "I will, miss," said the man, earnestly. "Is this all I can do?"

      "If you would be my true friend – if I might trust you, Henry – I would ask more of you. But I should ask you to work against your master. He has wronged me cruelly, and I need a friend who can serve me as you can quite easily. I should not command you as a servant, but ask you to aid me as a true friend, for I think your heart is whiter than his."

      And Henry was won. Starting forward, he exclaimed:

      "He treats me as if I were a dog; and you, as if I were white and a gentleman! Let me be your servant, and I will be very faithful; tell me what I can do."

      "Thank you, Henry; I will trust you. To-morrow, at noon, call at Dr. Vaughan's office and he will tell you where you can find me. Then come to me. You can serve me best by remaining with your master, at present; and I will try, after I have left this place, to reward you as you deserve."

      "I will obey you, mistress," said the delighted servant. "I shall be glad to serve where I can hear a kind word. And I shall be glad to help you settle accounts with him. I will be there to-morrow, no fear for me."

      She turned, and put on her wrappings with a feeling of exultation. He would come soon, smiling and triumphant, and she would not be there! He should fret and wonder, question and search, but when they met again the power should be on her side.

      She turned to the waiting servant, saying: "I am ready, Henry."

      He opened the door as if for a princess. Before Madeline had lifted her foot from the carpet, her eyes became riveted upon the open doorway.

      There, smiling and insouciant, stood Lucian Davlin!

      Madeline stood like one in a nightmare, motionless and speechless. Again, and more powerfully, came over her senses that insidious, creeping faintness; that sickening of body and soul together.

      It was not the situation alone, hazardous as it certainly was, which filled her with this shuddering terror; it was the feeling that vitality had almost exhausted itself. She suddenly realized the meaning of the awful lethargy that seemed benumbing her faculties. The "last straw" was now weighing her down, and, standing mute and motionless she was putting forth all her will power to comprehend the situation, grasp and master it.

      Like a dark stone image Henry stood, his hand upon the open door, his eyes fastened upon the man blocking the way.

      Davlin, whose first thought had been that the open door was to welcome his approach, realized in an instant as he gazed upon Madeline, that he was about to be defied. There was no mistaking the expression of the face, so white and set. He elevated his eyebrows in an elaborate display of astonishment.

      "Just in time, I should say," removing his hat with mock courtesy, and stepping across the threshold. "Not going out without an escort, my dear? Surely not. Really, I owe a debt of gratitude to my friends down town, for boring me so insufferably, else I should have missed you, I fear."

      No answer; no change in the face or attitude of the girl before him.

      "Close that door, sir, and take yourself off," he said, turning to Henry.

      Remembering her words, "You can serve me best here," Henry bowed with unusual humility, and went out.

      "I don't think she is afraid of him," he muttered, as he went down the hall; "anyhow, I won't be far away, in case she needs me."

      Lucian Davlin folded his arms with insolent grace, and leaning lazily against the closed door, gazed, with his wicked half smile, upon the pale girl before him.

      Thus for a few moments they faced each other, without a word. At length, she broke the silence. Advancing a step, she looked him full in the face and said, in a calm, even tone:

      "Open that door, sir, and let me pass."

      "Phew – w – w!" he half whistled, half ejaculated, opening wide his insolent eyes. "How she commands us; like a

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