ilanthropy played all over their
faces, and their eyes sought eagerly in the passing scene of the humble
street for new objects of benefaction.

Those acquainted with the countenances of the aristocracy would have
recognized at once in the occupants of the equipage the Marquis of
Muddlenut and his spouse, the Marchioness.

It was the eye of the Marchioness which first detected the form of
Winnifred Clair upon the doorstep.

"Hold! pause! stop!" she cried, in lively agitation.

The horses were at once pulled in, the brakes applied to the wheels, and
with the aid of a powerful lever, operated by three of the menials, the
carriage was brought to a standstill.

"See! Look!" cried the Marchioness. "She has fainted. Quick, William,
your flask. Let us hasten to her aid."

In another moment the noble lady was bending over the prostrate form of
Winnifred Clair, and pouring brandy between her lips.

Winnifred opened her eyes. "Where am I?" she asked feebly.

"She speaks!" cried the Marchioness. "Give her another flaskful."

After the second flask the girl sat up.

"Tell me," she cried, clasping her hands, "what has happened? Where am
I?"

"With friends!" answered the Marchioness. "But do not essay to speak.
Drink this. You must husband your strength. Meantime, let us drive you
to your home."

Winnifred was lifted tenderly by the menservants into the aristocratic
equipage. The brake was unset, the lever reversed, and the carriage
thrown again into motion.

On the way Winnifred, at the solicitation of the Marchioness, related
her story.

"My poor child!" exclaimed the lady, "how you must have suffered. Thank
Heaven it is over now. To-morrow we shall call for you and bring you
away with us to Muddlenut Chase."

Alas, could she but have known it, before the morrow should dawn, worse
dangers still were in store for our heroine. But what these dangers
were, we must reserve for another chapter.

CHAPTER IV

A GAMBLING PARTY IN ST. JAMES'S CLOSE

We must now ask our readers to shift the scene--if they don't mind doing
this for us--to the apartments of the Earl of Wynchgate in St. James's
Close. The hour is nine o'clock in the evening, and the picture before
us is one of revelry and dissipation so characteristic of the nobility
of England. The atmosphere of the room is thick with blue Havana smoke
such as is used by the nobility, while on the green baize table a litter
of counters and cards, in which aces,