arry," he answered, "I
will go with you, for indeed I have something particular to tell you.
I wish I could say it was good, but it is not."

"Then do not tell me anything about it, Antony. I am so happy
to-night."

"But I ought to tell you. It relates to your sister."

Harry was instantly speechless.

"Will you come back with me to Miss Van Hoosen's? We can reach my room
without disturbing the ladies."

"No. If you are not cold, we will walk here. What have you to tell me
about Rose?"

"You know that I love her?"

"I have known that a long time."

"Well, every man loves in his own way; and mine is a way you may not
understand. However, I cannot live if Rose is long out of my sight;
and so I have seen some things--Oh, dear Harry! need I tell you?"

Harry shook his head, and was gloomily silent.

"I saw Rose go into Delmonico's this afternoon, after the matinee.
There was a person with her who has often been with her lately--that
is, when Rose is without Mrs. Filmer's company."

"Who is he?"

"I do not know him. I have not liked to ask any questions about him.
He is tall, with a supple, languid figure. He has the face of a fallen
angel, handsome and wicked. I have noticed his eyes particularly,
because, though he is dark as a Mexican, the eyes are a calm frosty
blue--cold and cruel."

"I know whom you mean. His name is Duval. So Rose was with him
to-day?"

"You see what a position this confidence places me in--an informer
against the girl I would die for. But I do not speak without good
reason. I followed them into the restaurant. They had a bottle of
champagne; then this scoundrel rang for another, though it was evident
Rose had already taken quite enough."

"Well, Antony? Speak out, man."

"I went up, then, to Rose. I said, 'Miss Filmer, I am sent for you.
You must return at once. There is no time to lose.'"

"Well?"

"She trembled, and asked: 'Is my father ill? Has anything happened to
Harry? What is the matter, Mr. Van Hoosen?' And I said, 'You had
better hasten home, Miss Filmer.'"

"What did Duval say?"

"He bowed and palavered, and got out of the way as quickly as
possible. Poor little Rose was sick and white with fear; he understood
my meaning well enough. I left Rose at her own door. I did not wish to
explain to Mrs. Filmer then. But I must speak to you, Harry, for Rose
is in danger. I love her, and will devote my life to her welfare. She
loves me, though she will not trust her heart