there was little for her to fear; it was
known that Hays kept no money in the house, the safe was only used for
securities and contracts, and there were half a dozen men within call.
It was, therefore, only her usual active, burning curiosity for novel
incident that made her run to the window and peer out; but it was with a
spontaneous cry of astonishment she turned and darted to the front door,
and opened it to the muffled figure of a young man.

"Jack! Saints alive! Why, of all things!" she gasped, incoherently.

He stopped her with an impatient gesture and a hand that prevented her
from closing the door again.

"Dad ain't here?" he asked quickly.

"No."

"When'll he be back?"

"Not to-night."

"Good," he said, turning to the door again. She could see a motionless
horse and sleigh in the road, with a woman holding the reins.

He beckoned to the woman, who drove to the door and jumped out. Tall,
handsome, and audacious, she looked at Zuleika with a quick laugh of
confidence, as at some recognized absurdity.

"Go in there," said the young man, opening the door of the office; "I'll
come back in a minute."

As she entered, still smiling, as if taking part in some humorous but
risky situation, he turned quickly to Zuleika and said in a low voice:
"Where can we talk?"

The girl held out her hand and glided hurriedly through the passage
until she reached a door, which she opened. By the light of a dying fire
he could see it was her bedroom. Lighting a candle on the mantel, she
looked eagerly in his face as he threw aside his muffler and opened his
coat. It disclosed a spare, youthful figure, and a thin, weak face
that a budding mustache only seemed to make still more immature. For
an instant brother and sister gazed at each other. Astonishment on her
part, nervous impatience on his, apparently repressed any demonstration
of family affection. Yet when she was about to speak he stopped her
roughly.

"There now; don't talk. I know what you're goin' to say--could say it
myself if I wanted to--and it's no use. Well then, here I am. You saw
HER. Well, she's MY WIFE--we've been married three months. Yes, my WIFE;
married three months ago. I'm here because I ran away from school--that
is, I HAVEN'T BEEN THERE for the last three months. I came out with
her last steamer; we went up to the Summit Hotel last night--where they
didn't know me--until we could see how the land lay, before popping down
on dad. I happened to