d high.

At a quarter-past eleven that night a slight, black-clad figure, with a
shawl over its head, softly closed the side door of the Remington house
and hurried down the street. Never before had Genevieve been alone on
the streets after dark. She had not foreseen how frightened she would be
at the long, dark stretches, nor how much more frightened when any one
passed her. Two men spoke to her. She sped on, turning now this way, now
that, without regard to direction--her eyes over her shoulder, in terror
lest she be followed.

So it was that she plunged around a corner and into the very arms of E.
Eliot, who was sauntering home from a political meeting, where she had
been a much-advertised speaker. She was in the habit of prowling about
by herself. Tonight she was, as usual, unattended--unless one observed
two burly workingmen who walked slowly in her wake.

"Oh, I beg your pardon," came a gently modulated voice from behind the
shawl. E. Eliot stared.

"No harm done here. Did I hurt you?" she replied.

She thought she heard an involuntary "Oh!" from beneath the shawl.

"No, thanks. Could you tell me how to get to the Whitewater Arms and
Munitions Factory? I'm all turned around."

"Certainly. Two blocks that way to the State Road, and half a mile north
on that. Shall I walk to the road with you?"

"Oh, no, thank you," the girl answered and hurried on. E. Eliot stood
and watched her. Where had she heard that voice? She knew a good many
girls who worked at the factories, but none of them spoke like that.
All at once a memory came to her: "Couldn't I investigate something, or
organize the working girls?" Mrs. George Remington!

"The little fool," ejaculated the other woman, and turned promptly to
follow the flying figure.

The two burly gentlemen in the rear also turned and followed, but E.
Eliot was too busy planning how to manage Mrs. Remington to notice them.
She had to walk rapidly to keep her quarry in sight. As she came
within some thirty yards of the gate she saw Genevieve challenge the
gatekeeper, present her card and slip inside, the gate clanging to
behind her.

E. Eliot broke into a jog trot, rounded the corner of the wall, pulled
herself up quickly, using the stones of the wall as footholds. She hung
from the top and let herself drop softly inside, standing perfectly
still in the shadow. At the same moment the two burly gentlemen ran
round the corner and saw nothing. "I told ye to run--" began on