you, or you to Miss O'Halloran?
Haven't you got enough women on your conscience already? Do you mean to
drag her in? Don't try it my boy--for I'm concerned there."

"Miss O'Halloran!" cried Jack. "Look here, Macrorie--you'd better take
care."

"Take care?"

"Yes. Don't you go humbugging about there."

"I don't know what you're up to, dear boy. What's your little joke?"

"There's no joke at all about it," said Jack, harshly. "Do you know who
Miss O'Halloran is?"

"Well, I know that she's the daughter of Mr. O'Halloran, and that he's
a fine old fellow. Any further information, however, I shall be
delighted to receive. You talk as though you know something about her.
What is it? But don't slander. Not a word against her. That won't
stand."

"Slander! A word against her!" cried Jack. "Macrorie, you don't know
who she is, or what she is to me. Macrorie, this miss O'Halloran is
that lady that we have been calling 'Number Three'."

It was now my turn to be confounded. I, too, started to my feet, and
not only my pipe, but my tumbler also, fell crashing to the floor.

"The devil she is!" I cried.

"She is--I swear she is--as true as I'm alive."

At this moment I had more need of a good, long, low whistle than ever I
had in my life before. But I didn't whistle. Even a whistle was useless
here to express the emotions that I felt at Jack's revelation. I stood
and stared at him in silence. But I didn't see him. Other visions came
before my mind's eye, Horatio, which shut out Jack from my view. I was
again in that delightful parlor; again Nora's form was near--her
laughing face, her speaking eyes, her expression--now genial and
sympathetic, now confused and embarrassed. There was her round, rosy,
smiling face, and near it the sombre face of Marion, with her dark,
penetrating eyes. And this winning face, this laughter-loving Venus--
this was the one about whom Jack rated as his Number Three. This was
the one whom he asked to run off with him. She! _She_ run off, and with
him! The idea was simple insanity. She had written him a letter--had
she?--and it was a scorcher, according to his own confession. She had
found him out, and thrown him over. Was not I far more to her than a
fellow like Jack--I who had saved her from a hideous death? There could
be no question about that. Was not her bright, beaming smile of
farewell still lingering in my memory? And Jack had the audacity to
think of her yet!

"Number Three," said I--"