ne of real distress--then, after a
pause, "You needn't mention my havin' asked for him. He may be
sensitive about it."

As he came away, Maud followed him to the door. He whispered, "Be
ready, my beauty, to start at a moment's notice. The money is on the
way. You shall live like a queen before many days are gone."

"We shall see," she answered, with a smile, but shutting the door
between them.

He clinched his fists and muttered, "I'll figure it all up and take my
pay, Missy. She's worth it. I will have to do some crooked things to
get her; but by ----, I'd kill a dozen men and hang another, just to
stand by and see her braid her hair."

Returning to his house, he ran nimbly up the stairs, half fearing to
find Sleeny there, but he had not yet arrived. He seized the hammer,
put it in his pocket, and came down again. Still intent upon accounting
for as much of the evening as possible, he thought of a variety-show in
the neighborhood, and went there. He spoke to some of the loafers at
the door. He then walked to the box-office and asked for a ticket,
addressing the man who sold it to him as "Jimmy," and asking how
business was. The man handed him his ticket without any reply, but
turned to a friend beside him, and said, "Who is that cheeky brother
that knows me so well?"

"Oh! that's a rounder by the name of Offitt. He is a sort of Reformer--
makes speeches to the puddlers on the rights of man."

"Seems rather fresh," said Jimmy.

"A little brine wouldn't hurt him."

Offitt strolled into the theatre, which was well filled. The curtain
was down at the moment, and he walked the full extent of the centre
aisle to the orchestra, looking about him as if in search of some one.
He saw one or two acquaintances and nodded to them. He then walked back
and took a seat near the door. The curtain rose, and the star of the
evening bounded upon the stage,--a strapping young woman in the dress
of an army officer. She was greeted with applause before she began her
song, and with her first notes Offitt quietly went out. He looked at
the clock on the City Hall, and saw that he had no more time to kill.
He walked, without hurrying or loitering, up the shady side of the
street till he came to the quarter where Farnham lived. He then crossed
into the wide avenue, and, looking swiftly about him, approached the
open gates of Farnham's place. Two or three men were coming out, one or
two were going in. He waited till the former had turned