to make her repent her action. I will bring that
father of hers to the dust, if only to revenge the long list of injuries
his race has inflicted on mine!"

CHAPTER XIX.

"PLAY OUT YOUR FARCE."

When Daisy left the house where she had the interview with Hannibal, she
walked for some minutes aimlessly along the street. Her mind was in a
state of great excitement. She realized that she had defied a man who
could inflict the deepest injury on the father she dearly loved. How she
could have done otherwise was not at all clear, but the terror which
hung over her was none the less keen. The proposal of the negro--to
marry her--filled her with a nameless dread that made her teeth chatter,
though it was a warm day. Rather would she have cast her body into the
tides that wash the shores of Manhattan Island. Even to save her father
from prison--if it came to that--she could not make this sacrifice. She
now felt for Hannibal a horrible detestation, a feeling akin to that she
might entertain for a rattlesnake. Whatever good she had seen in him in
other days had vanished under the revelations of his true character.

What to do next was the absorbing question. A great danger hung over her
father. A dim idea of seeking the mayor--or the chief of police--and
imploring their mercy, entered her brain. Then she thought of Roseleaf,
whose aid she might have secured, if he had not proved himself a
double-dealer, capable of making love to herself and Millicent at the
same time. And then came the resolve to seek out Mr. Weil, the one
person in all this trouble that seemed clear of wrong. Her sister had
told her that he loved her. Well, if necessary she would marry him. At
least he was a man of honor, and white. Yes, she would go to him and
throw herself upon his mercy.

Daisy knew that Archie made his headquarters at the Hoffman House, and
summoning a cab she asked to be taken to that hotel. Ensconced in the
ladies' parlor she awaited the coming of the man she wanted and yet
dreaded so much to see. Luckily he was in the house, and in a few
moments responded in person to her card.

"Why, Miss Daisy," he stammered. "What is the matter? Nothing wrong, I
trust. You look quite pale. Is it anything--about--your father?"

The girl was pale indeed. Now that Mr. Weil was so close, the danger
that he might not be willing to help her rose like a mountain in her
path. She did not know exactly how grave a matter forgery was--whether
it was