ouldn't take the trouble to get me even a
chair. And yet he pretends to be fond of me."

"Hus-s-s-h!" said her sister.

But Minnie was irrepressible.

"I don't want any horrid stranger. But, oh, Kitty darling, it would be
so awfully funny if he were to be caught! and then he _couldn't_
propose, you know."

By this time the figure had reached the house. Minnie peeped over and
looked down. Then she drew back her head and sighed.

"Oh dear!" she said, in a plaintive tone.

"What, darling?"

"Why, Kitty darling, do you know he really looks a little like that
great, big, horrid man that ran with me down the volcano, and then
pretended he was my dear papa. And here he comes to save me again. Oh,
what _shall_ I do? Won't you pretend you're me, Kitty darling, and
please go yourself? Oh, ple-e-ease do!"

But now Minnie was interrupted by two strong hands grasping the
window-sill. A moment after a shadowy head arose above it. Mrs.
Willoughby started back, but through the gloom she was able to
recognize the strongly marked face of Scone Dacres.

For a moment he stared through the darkness. Then he flung his elbow
over.

There arose a noise below. There was a rush. The figure disappeared
from the window. A furious struggle followed, in the midst of which
arose fierce oaths and deep breathings, and the sound of blows. Then
the struggle subsided, and they heard footsteps tramping heavily. They
followed the sound into the house. They heard men coming up the stairs
and into the hall outside. Then they all moved into, the front-room
opposite theirs. After a few minutes they heard the steps descending
the stairs. By this they judged that the prisoner had been taken to
that room which was on the other side of the hall and in the front of
the house.

"There dies our last hope!" said Mrs. Willoughby, and burst into
tears.

"I'm sure I don't see what you're crying about," said Minnie. "You
certainly oughtn't to want me to be carried off again by that person.
If he had me, he'd _never_ give me up--especially after saving me
twice."

Mrs. Willoughby made no reply, and the sisters sat in silence for
nearly an hour. They were then aroused by the approach of footsteps
which entered the house; after which voices were heard below.

Then some one ascended the stairs, and they saw the flicker of a
light. It was Girasole.

He came into the room with a small lamp, holding his hand in front of
the flame. This lamp he set down in a