sery. At last he summoned courage to
go to the bank and deposit forty-five of the fifty pounds. He then
rushed home, and, packing his things, prepared to run away. He said he
was certain to be taken if he stayed, and simply could not bring himself
to face the risk. He went to Waterloo, and to his horror discovered that
he was watched. A man, undoubtedly a detective in plain clothes, was
following him from place to place. The man watched him take his ticket
for Southampton, and noticed the corner in which he deposited his bag in
a third-class carriage. George seemed to lose his head at this crisis.
He managed to elude the detective, slipped out of the station, took a
hansom and drove straight to my rooms. Luckily I was at home. He made a
clean breast of everything to me. He is in my rooms now, and safe for
the time being, for no one will think of looking for him there. I want
you to come with me at once to see him, for there is not a moment to be
lost in deciding what is best to be done."

"Yes," said Effie, "I will come."

She felt stunned--her keenest feelings of anguish were lulled into
momentary quiet by the greatness of this blow.

"I will write a note to Agnes," she said; "she is out--I had to send her
to the hospital to say that I could not return there to-night." Then she
added, her face turning whiter than ever, "If my mother knows of this,
it will kill her."

"Your mother is the person to be considered, of course," said Lawson.
"But for her, I should say that the best thing possible for George would
be to undergo the punishment which he merits. As it is, however, matters
are different. Well, write your note, and let us be quick. That strong
opiate will keep your mother sleeping quietly until the morning. All
your sister has to do is to watch her."

Effie drew a sheet of paper toward her, scribbled a few hasty lines on
it, folded it up, and left it where Agnes could see it the moment she
returned; then she followed Lawson into the street.

He hailed a passing hansom, and they drove straight to his rooms on the
Embankment.

The feeling of a dream remained with Effie all during that drive; she
kept rubbing her eyes and saying to herself, "It's only a dream--I shall
awaken presently and find myself back at St. Joseph's."

The hansom drew up at the lodgings, and Lawson preceded Effie upstairs.
He threw open the door of his little sitting room.

"Come in," he said. "Here is your sister, Staunton," he sang o