a hurried ring, and withal a ring which made
her heart beat, she knew not why.

She stood at the head of the staircase and listened. A moment later, and
the visitor was speaking to the servant who had admitted him.

"Mr. Gowan," she heard. "Miss Crewe--wish to see her at once--at once."

She knew by his voice that something was wrong, and she did not wait for
the up-coming of the servant. She almost flew down the staircase, and
entered the parlor an instant after him; and when he saw her he met her
with an exclamation of thankfulness.

"Thank God!" he said, "that you are ready!" He was pale with excitement,
and fairly out of breath. He did not give her time to answer him. "You
must come with me," he said. "There is not a moment to lose. I have a
cab at the door. I have driven here at full speed. The report is true,
and I have found out that to-night Chandos leaves London. But that is
not the worst,--for God's sake, be calm, and remember how much depends
upon your courage,--he intends taking your sister with him."

Terrible as the shock was to her, she was calm, and did remember how
much might depend upon her. She forgot Grif and the happy evening she
had promised herself; she forgot all the world but Mollie,--handsome,
lovable, innocent Mollie, who was rushing headlong and unconsciously to
misery and ruin. A great, sharp change seemed to come upon her as she
turned to Ralph Gowan. She was not the same girl who, a minute or so
before, had nodded at her pretty self in the glass; the excited blood
tingled in her veins; she was full of desperate, eager bravery,--she
could not wait a breath's space.

"Come!" she exclaimed, "I am ready. You can tell me the rest when we are
in the cab."

She did not even know where they were going until she heard Gowan give
the driver the directions. But, as they drove through the streets, she
learned all.

In spite of his efforts, it was not until the eleventh hour that he had
succeeded in obtaining positive proof of the truth of the report, though
he had found less cause to doubt it each time he made fresh inquiries.
In the end he had been driven to the necessity of appealing to a man who
had been Chandos's confidential valet, and who, rascal though he was,
still was able to produce proofs to be relied on. Then he had been
roused to such indignation that he had driven to the fellow's lodgings
with the intention of confronting him with his impudent guilt, and there
he had made the fe