ccurred to her she glanced toward the window. Mr. Mitchel
divined her thoughts in a moment.

"Don't try screaming, Lucette," said he, "for if you do, I will be
compelled to gag you. You will find that very uncomfortable for two
hours."

"Will you tell me why you wish to keep me here?"

"I thought I did tell you. The fact is, I do not wish you to do that
little errand of yours."

"I don't understand you."

"Oh, yes, you do. You are not such a fool as all that. Now, my girl,
you may as well bow to the inevitable. Make yourself comfortable till
twelve. Read the paper, if you wish. There is an interesting account of
the murder case. The woman, you know, who was killed in the flat
upstairs. Have you followed it?"

"No, I have not," she replied, snappishly.

"That is strange. Do you know, I took you to be just the person who
would have a deep interest in that kind of thing."

"Well, I am not."

For the next two hours not a word passed. Mr. Mitchel sat in a large
arm-chair and simply watched the girl with an aggravating smile upon his
face. In fact the smile was so aggravating, that after encountering it a
few minutes, Lucette did not look at him again, but rivetted her gaze
upon the opposite side of the street. At last the clock chimed twelve.
Instantly the girl arose.

"May I go now?"

"Yes, Lucette, you may go now--and do your little errand--that is if it
is not too late. And by the way, Lucette, Miss Remsen asked me to say to
you that she will not need your services after to-day."

"Do you mean that I am discharged?"

"Not exactly that. I said you would not be needed. You see Miss Remsen
thinks that you come into and go out of rooms with too little noise. She
is very nervous, and it startles her to find you in her presence,
without having heard you enter."

"You are a devil!" replied Lucette in a passion, as she darted through
the door, which Mr. Mitchel had unlocked, and ran down-stairs and out of
the house.

"I was right," thought Mr. Mitchel, as he sat down once more.

Lucette hurried across to Broadway and went into the district telegraph
office at the corner. Hastily scribbling a few lines on a blank, she
asked for a boy, and gave him a coin with the instruction to "hurry."
She then went down to Madison Square and waited there--I was about to
write, patiently--but really the word would not apply. She sat on a
bench. Jumped up in less than five minutes, walked about for awhile, and
then sat down a