attitude, with a hand upon
his shoulder. The din at the door, so far from abating, continued to
increase in volume, and at each blow the unhappy secretary was shaken to
the heart.

"What is your name?" asked the girl.

"Harry Hartley," he replied.

"Mine," she went on, "is Prudence. Do you like it?"

"Very much," said Harry. "But hear for a moment how the general beats
upon the door. He will certainly break it in, and then, in Heaven's
name, what have I to look for but death?"

"You put yourself very much about with no occasion," answered Prudence.
"Let your general knock, he will do no more than blister his hands. Do
you think I would keep you here if I were not sure to save you? Oh, no,
I am a good friend to those that please me! and we have a back door upon
another lane. But," she added, checking him, for he had got upon his
feet immediately on this welcome news, "but I will not show where it is
unless you kiss me. Will you, Harry?"

"That I will," he cried, remembering his gallantry, "not for your back
door, but because you are good and pretty."

And he administered two or three cordial salutes, which were returned to
him in kind.

Then Prudence led him to the back gate, and put her hand upon the key.

"Will you come and see me?" she asked.

"I will, indeed," said Harry. "Do not I owe you my life?"

"And now," she added, opening the door, "run as hard as you can, for I
shall let in the general."

Harry scarcely required this advice; fear had him by the forelock; and
he addressed himself diligently to flight. A few steps, and he believed
he would return to Lady Vandeleur in honor and safety. But these few
steps had not been taken before he heard a man's voice, hailing him by
name with many execrations, and, looking over his shoulder, he beheld
Charlie Pendragon waving him with both arms to return. The shock of
this new incident was so sudden and profound, and Harry was already
worked into so high a state of nervous tension, that he could think of
nothing better than to accelerate his pace, and continue running. He
should certainly have remembered the scene in Kensington Gardens; he
should certainly have concluded that, where the general was his enemy,
Charlie Pendragon could be no other than a friend. But such was the
fever and perturbation of his mind that he was struck by none of these
considerations, and only continued to run the faster up the lane.

Charlie, by the sound of his voice and the vile