the Belgian blocks were drawing nearer.

To Van's relief, for he hated a scene, it proved to be only a
"night-liner" cab, though with rattle enough for a field battery; but
to his tipsy antagonists it had more terror than a park of Parrot
guns.

"Can I do anything more for you?" he asked the girl; then suddenly:
"You're not the sort to be out alone at this hour of the night. Are
you in trouble?"

"Oh, indeed I am!" she answered, with a sob; again illogical, and
breaking down when the danger was over. "What _must_ you think of me?
But mother was suddenly _so_ ill, and father and sister were at a
ball, and the servants slipped away, too. I dared not wait, so I ran
out alone to fetch Doctor Mordant. _Please_ believe me, for--"

"Hello, Cab!" broke in Van. "Certainly I believe you," he answered the
girl, as the cab pulled up with that eager jerk of the driver's
elbows, eloquent of fare scented afar off. "I'll go with you for
Doctor Mordant, and then see you home."

"Why, is that _you_, Mr. Morris?" cried Cabby, with a salute of his
whip _a la militaire;_ but he muttered to himself, "Well, I _never_!"
as he jumped from the box and held the door wide.

"That's enough, Murphy," Van said shortly. "Now, jump in, Miss, and
I'll--" But the girl shrank back, and drew the shawl closer round her
face. "No, I won't either. Pardon my thoughtlessness; for it isn't
exactly the hour to be driving alone with a fellow, I know. But you
can trust Murphy perfectly. Dennis, drive this lady to Dr. Mordant's
and then home again, just as fast as your team can carry her!" And he
half lifted the girl into the carriage.

"That I will, Mr. Van," Murphy replied cheerily, as he clambered to
his seat.

The girl stretched out two cold, red little hands, and clasped his
fur-gloved one frankly.

"Oh! thank you a thousand times," she said. "I _knew_ you were a
gentleman at the first word to those cowards; but I never dreamed you
were Mr. Van Morris. I've heard sister speak of you _so_ often!"

"_Your_ sister?" Van stared at the cheaply-clad night wanderer, as
though _he_ had had too much Regent's punch.

"Yes, sister Rose--Rose Wood," she said, with the confidence of
acquaintance. "I'm her sister, you know--Blanche."

"Blanche? Your name is Blanche? I cannot tell you how happy I am to
have chanced along just now, Miss Wood;" and Van bared his head in the
cutting night wind to the blanket-shawled girl in the night-liner, as
he would not have