s into awful trouble and danger and loss
when you ran away the last time; did you know it?"

"No," sighed Sybil, wearily.

"Well, then, you did; and I'll tell you how it all happened: the secret
of your abode at Pendleton Park was known to too many people. It
couldn't possibly be kept forever by all. It is a wonder that it was
kept so long, by any. They kept it only until they thought you were safe
from pursuit and arrest. Then some of Captain Pendleton's people--it is
not known whom--let it leak out until it got to the ears of the
authorities, who set inquiries on foot; and then the whole thing was
discovered, and as usual misinterpreted and misrepresented. You got the
credit of voluntarily consorting with us, and of purposely blowing up
the old Haunted Chapel. And the new warrants that were issued for your
arrest charged you with that crime also."

"Good Heaven!" exclaimed Sybil, forgetting all her indifference; "what
will they not heap upon my head next? I will not rest under this
imputation! I will not."

"Neither would I, if I were you--that is, if I could help it," said the
girl, sarcastically.

But Sybil sat with her thin hands clasped tightly together, her deathly
white face rigid as marble, and her large, dilated eyes staring into the
fire heedless of the strange girl's irony.

"But now I must tell you how all this hurt us. In the first place, when
your flight from the cavern was discovered, we felt sorry only on your
account, because you ran into imminent danger of arrest. We had no idea
then that your arrest would lead to the discovery of our retreat; but it
did. When _our_ detectives brought in the news of the warrants that were
out against you, they also warned us that the authorities had the clue
to our caverns, and that there was no time to be lost in making our
escape."

With her hands still closely clasped together, with her pallid features
still set as in death, and with her staring eyes still fixed upon the
fire, Sybil sat, heedless of all that she heard.

The girl continued her story.

"We let no time be lost. We gathered up the most valuable and portable
of our effects, and that same night evacuated our cavern and dispersed
our band; taking care to appoint a distant place of rendezvous. Satan
watched the road, riding frequently to the way-side inns to try to
discover the coach by which you would be brought back. He was at Upton
this evening, when the stage stopped to change horses. He rec