drove rapidly
to within a few doors of the place, where a second detective on guard
across the street approached. Butler and Alderson descended from the
vehicle, and together they approached the door. It was now almost
four-thirty in the afternoon. In a room within the house, Cowperwood,
his coat and vest off, was listening to Aileen's account of her
troubles.

The room in which they were sitting at the time was typical of the
rather commonplace idea of luxury which then prevailed. Most of the
"sets" of furniture put on the market for general sale by the furniture
companies were, when they approached in any way the correct idea of
luxury, imitations of one of the Louis periods. The curtains were always
heavy, frequently brocaded, and not infrequently red. The carpets were
richly flowered in high colors with a thick, velvet nap. The furniture,
of whatever wood it might be made, was almost invariably heavy,
floriated, and cumbersome. This room contained a heavily constructed
bed of walnut, with washstand, bureau, and wardrobe to match. A large,
square mirror in a gold frame was hung over the washstand. Some poor
engravings of landscapes and several nude figures were hung in
gold frames on the wall. The gilt-framed chairs were upholstered in
pink-and-white-flowered brocade, with polished brass tacks. The carpet
was of thick Brussels, pale cream and pink in hue, with large blue
jardinieres containing flowers woven in as ornaments. The general effect
was light, rich, and a little stuffy.

"You know I get desperately frightened, sometimes," said Aileen. "Father
might be watching us, you know. I've often wondered what I'd do if he
caught us. I couldn't lie out of this, could I?"

"You certainly couldn't," said Cowperwood, who never failed to respond
to the incitement of her charms. She had such lovely smooth arms, a
full, luxuriously tapering throat and neck; her golden-red hair floated
like an aureole about her head, and her large eyes sparkled. The
wondrous vigor of a full womanhood was hers--errant, ill-balanced,
romantic, but exquisite, "but you might as well not cross that bridge
until you come to it," he continued. "I myself have been thinking that
we had better not go on with this for the present. That letter ought to
have been enough to stop us for the time."

He came over to where she stood by the dressing-table, adjusting her
hair.

"You're such a pretty minx," he said. He slipped his arm about her
and kissed