he course of the day
he had marked a circumstance of great interest and importance. Frame
houses when old and as lightly built as that in the little side street
are likely to sag somewhere. Now, at a certain spot the front door of
this house failed to meet the floor by at least an eighth of an inch,
and Prescott proposed to take advantage of the difference.

In the course of the day he had counted his remaining gold with great
satisfaction. He had placed one broad, shining twenty-dollar piece in a
small envelope, and now as he walked through the snow he fingered it in
his pocket, feeling all the old satisfaction.

He was sure--it was an intuition as well as the logical result of
reasoning--that Lucia Catherwood was still in the city and would return
to Miss Grayson's cottage. Now he bent his own steps that way, looking
up at the peaceful moon and down at the peaceful capital. Nothing was
alight except the gambling houses; the dry snow crunched under his feet,
but there was no other sound save the tread of an occasional sentinel,
and the sharp crack of the timbers in a house contracting under the
great cold.

A wind arose and moaned in the desolate streets of the dark city.
Prescott bent to the blast, and shivering, drew the collar of his
military cloak high about his ears. Then he laughed at himself for a
fool because he was going to the help of two women who probably hated
and scorned him; but he went on.

The little house was dark and silent. The sky above, though shadowed by
night, was blue and clear, showing everything that rose against it; but
there was no smoke from the cottage to leave a trail there.

"That's wisdom," thought Prescott. "Coal's too precious a thing now in
Richmond to be wasted. It would be cheaper to burn Confederate money."

He stood for a moment, shivering by the gate, having little thought of
detection, as use had now bred confidence in him, and then went inside.
It was the work of but half a minute to slip a double eagle in its paper
wrapping in the crack under the door, and then he walked away feeling
again that pleasing glow which always came over him after a good deed.

He was two squares away when he encountered a figure walking softly, and
the moonlight revealed the features of Mr. Sefton, the last man in the
world whom he wished to see just then. He was startled, even more
startled than he would admit to himself, at encountering this man who
hung upon him and in a measure seemed t