n those foreign streets conscious
that every right-hearted man would turn to look at the pretty girl;
with what joy he had stopped at strange bazaars to watch her eyes
brighten as the shopkeepers did their best to please. Those must have
been days which the father, if alive, was glad to remember.

A muffled beat as upon the steps without again brought him to
attention, but again the silence closed in upon it until he doubted
whether he had truly heard. But the dark had become alive now, and he
seemed to see strange, moving shadows in the corners and hear
creakings and rustlings all about him. He turned sharply at a soft
tread behind him only to start at the snapping of a coal in the fire
from the other side. Finally, in order to ease his mind, he crossed
the room and looked beyond the curtains into the darkness of the hall.
There was neither movement nor sound. He ventured out and peered down
the staircase into the dark chasm marking the lower hall. He heard
distinctly the sound of a key being fitted rather clumsily into the
lock, then an inrush of air as the door was thrown open and someone
entered, clutching at the wall as though unable to stand.

It never occurred to Wilson to do the natural and obviously simple
thing: awake the girl at once and steal down the stairs in the rear
until he at least should have a chance to reconnoitre. It seemed
necessary for him to meet the situation face to face, to stand his
ground as though this were an intrusion upon his own domain. The girl
in the next room was sleeping soundly in perfect faith that he would
meet every danger that should approach her. And so, by the Lord, he
would. Neither she nor he were thieves or cowards, and he refused to
allow her to be placed for a minute in such a position.

Someone followed close behind the first man who had entered and
lighted a match. As the light flashed, Wilson caught a glimpse of two
men; one tall and angular, the other short and broad-shouldered.

"The--the lights aren't on, cabby," said one of them; "but I--I can
find my way all right."

"The divil ye can, beggin' yer pardon," answered the other. "I'll jist
go ahead of ye now an'----"

"No, cabby, I don't need help."

"Jist to th' top of the shtairs, sor. I know ye're thot weak with
sickness----"

The answer came like a military command, though in a voice heavy with
weariness.

"Light a candle, if you can find one, and--go."

The cabby struck another match and applied i