ped from Arnold's arms and leaned on her stick. To all
appearance, she was the least discomposed of the three.

"Isaac," she answered, "Uncle Isaac, I was lonely--lonely and
terrified. You left me so strangely, and it is so silent up here. I
left a little note and asked Arnold, when he came home, to bid me
good night. He knocked at my door two minutes ago."

Isaac threw open the door of their apartments.

"Get in," he ordered. "I'll have an end put to it, Ruth. Look at
him!" he cried, mockingly, pointing to Arnold's evening clothes.
"What sort of a friend is that, do you think, for us? He wears the
fetters of his class. He is a hanger-on at the tables of our
enemies."

"You can abuse me as much as you like," Arnold replied, calmly, "and
I shall still believe that I am an honest man. Are you, Isaac?"

Isaac's eyes flashed venom.

"Honesty! What is honesty?" he snarled. "What is it, I ask you? Is
the millionaire honest who keeps the laws because he has no call to
break them? Is that honesty? Is he a better man than the father who
steals to feed his hungry children? Is the one honest and the other
a thief? You smug hypocrite!"

Arnold was silent for a moment. It flashed into his mind that here,
from the other side, came very nearly the same doctrine as Sabatini
had preached to him across his rose-shaded dining table.

"It is too late to argue with you, Isaac," he said, pleasantly.
"Besides, I think that you and I are too far apart. But you must
leave me Ruth for my little friend. She would be lonely without me,
and I can do her no harm."

Isaac opened his lips,--lips that were set in an ugly sneer--but he
met the steady fire of Arnold's eyes, and the words he would have
spoken remained unsaid.

"Get to your room, then," he ordered.

He passed on as though to enter his own apartments. Then suddenly he
stopped and listened. There was the sound of a footstep, a heavy,
marching footstep, coming along the Terrace below. With another look
now upon his face, he slunk to the window and peered down. The
footsteps came nearer and nearer, and Arnold could hear him
breathing like a hunted animal. Then they passed, and he stood up,
wiping the sweat from his forehead.

"I have been hurrying," he muttered, half apologetically. "We had a
crowded meeting. Good night!"

He turned into his rooms and closed the door. Arnold looked after
him for a moment and then up the street below. When he turned into
his own rooms, he was