"Move out of this. Take the girl to Virginia. You'll be safe enough
there."

"You're right, Bradshaw. It's the best way. I ought to have done it at
first. But, hang the girl, she'll weary me to death with her sermons and
crying fits. Moll's worth two of her for that, matter--she scolds, but
at least she never would look like a stuck fawn when I came home a
little queer. For the matter of that, she don't mind a spree herself at
times." And, emptying his glass, the libertine laughed at the
remembrance of some past orgies.

While he was thus, in his half-drunken mood, consoling himself for
present perplexities by dwelling upon the bacchanalian joys of other
days, a carriage drove up the street, and stopped before the door. Soon
afterward, the hall bell was rung, and Philip, alarmed and astonished,
started from his seat.

"Who's that?" he asked, almost in a whisper.

"Don't know," replied his companion.

"She couldn't have traced me here already--unless you have betrayed me,
Bradshaw," he added suddenly, darting a suspicious glance upon his
comrade.

"You're just drunk enough to be a fool," replied Bradshaw, rising from
his seat, as a second summons, more violent than the first, echoed
through the corridors. "I'll go down and see what's the matter. Some
one's mistaken the house, I suppose. That's all."

"Let no one in, Bradshaw," cried Philip, as that worthy left the room.
He descended the stairs, opened the door, and presently afterward the
carriage drove rapidly away. Philip, who had been listening earnestly,
could hear the sound of the wheels as they whirled over the pavement.

"All right," he said, as he applied himself once more to the bottle
before him. "Some fool has mistaken his whereabouts. Curse me, but I'm
getting as nervous as an old woman."

He was in the act of lifting the glass to his lips, when the door was
flung wide open. The glass fell from his hands, and shivered upon the
floor. Moll stood before him.

She stood at the threshold with a wicked gleam in her eye, and a smile
of triumph upon her lips; then advanced into the room, closed the door
quietly, locked it, seated herself composedly in the nearest chair, and
filled herself a glass of spirits. Philip glared upon her with an
expression of mingled anger, fear and wonderment.

"Are you a devil? Where in thunder did you spring from?" he asked at
last.

"You'll make me a devil, with your tricks, Philip Searle," she said,
sipping the liquo