ed, eh?" he inquired.

"Yes, it is," she lied.

He smiled as if to put her at her ease, but it was an evil leer and set
her heart to pounding violently. She was tempted to cry out and arouse
her lodgers, but merely flung back the fellow's glance defiantly.

The stranger ran his eye over the place and then said, "I guess we'll
set awhile." Drawing a chair up beside the door, he motioned to his
partner to do the same. They tilted back at their ease, and June fancied
they were listening intently. For a half-hour, an hour, they sat there,
following her every movement, now and then exchanging a word in a tone
too low for her to hear.

She was well-nigh hysterical with the strain of waiting, when she saw
both men lower the front legs of their chairs and rise together. The
next instant the door swung violently yet noiselessly inward and a
masked man with a gun in his hand leaped out of the night. Another man
was at his heels, and they covered her simultaneously. Then a most
amazing thing occurred.

June's mysterious visitors pounced upon them from behind, there was a
brief, breathless struggle, and the next instant all four swept out into
the snow amid a tangle of arms and legs. Followed the sounds of a
furious scuffle, of heavy blows, curses and groans, then a voice:

"Beat it now or we'll croak the two of you! And peddle the word that no
rough stuff goes here. Do you get that?" There was the impact of a boot
planted against flesh, and the next instant June's deliverers had
re-entered and closed the door.

One of them was sucking a wound in the fleshy part of his hand where a
falling revolver hammer had punched him, but he inquired in a thoroughly
business-like tone, "Got a little hot water, June?"

June emerged weakly from behind her desk. "W-what does it all--mean?"

"Oh, it's all right. They won't trouble you no more."

"They came to--rob me, and you knew it--"

"Sure! Harry Hope got full and told about leaving eight thousand dollars
with you; so we beat 'em to it."

"But why didn't you say so? You frightened me."

"We wasn't sure they'd try it, and we didn't like to work you up."

"Please--who are you?"

"Us? Why, we're Wag-boys! Llewellyn's our pal. I'm Charley Fitzhugh;
they call me the Dummy. And this is Thomasville."

Thomasville nodded and mumbled greetings without removing his thumb from
his mouth, whereupon June began to express her gratitude. But thanks
threw the Wag-boys into confusion, it seem