and went on to
the station, without having met another human being.

She secured her ticket, as has been related, and when the train stopped,
she took her place on a second-class car.

Being very much of an animal, and very much fatigued, she could not be
kept awake even by the excitement of her novel and perilous position,
but, holding on to her booty, and lulled by the swift motion of the
train, she fell asleep, and slept until eight o'clock next morning,
when she was awakened by the stopping of the train and the bustle of the
arrival at Euston Square Station. Her first thought was for the safety of
her bag. With a start of dismay she missed it from her lap, where she had
been holding it so tightly.

"An' it 's yer little valise yer a looking for, my dear, there it be at
yer feet, where it fell, with a crash, while ye slept. An' there was
anything in it would break, sure it 's broken entirely," said a kindly
man, pointing to the bag upon the floor.

She hastily picked it up.

"Oh! if any one had known what it contains, would it have been left there
in safety all the time I slept?" she asked herself, as her hands closed
tightly upon her recovered treasure.

But the passengers were all leaving the train, and so she got out with
the rest.

She was too cunning to take a cab from the station. She left it on
foot and walked a mile or two, making many turns, before, at length she
hailed a "four wheeler," hired it and directed the cabman to drive to
Number ---- Westminster Road.

CHAPTER XII.

THE HOUSE ON WESTMINSTER ROAD.

An hour's ride through some of the most crowded streets of London brought
her to her destination--a tall, dingy, three-storied brick house, in a
block of the same.

She paid and dismissed the cab at the door, and then went up and rang the
bell.

It was answered by an old woman, in a black skirt, red sack, white apron,
and white cap.

"Well, to be sure, ma'am, you have taken me unexpected; but I'm main
glad to see you so soon. Come in, and I'll make you comfortable in no
time," said the woman, with kindly respect, as she held the door wide
open for her mistress.

"Any one been here sin' we left Mrs. Rogers?" inquired the traveller.

"No, ma'am--no soul. It is very lonely here without you. Let me take your
bag, ma'am. It do seem heavy," said Mrs. Rogers, as she held out her hand
and took hold of the handle of the satchel.

"Na, I thank ye. It's na that heavy neither," exclaimed