hen Dudley got up slowly and walked out
of the room, closing the door behind him. Max heard him open the outer
door, and then he heard a voice he knew--a young girl's voice--say:

"This is Mr. Dudley Horne's place, and you are Mr. Dudley Horne?"

"Yes."

"Then let me come in. I've come from--"

The voice dropped, and Max did not catch the rest.

"Stop! I'll speak to you here," said Dudley, trying to keep her in the
little ante-room.

But the girl came straight in. It was Carrie.

CHAPTER XVII.

A SORCERESS.

Max was standing on the other side of the lamp, and Carrie did not see
him. She announced her errand at once in a straightforward and
matter-of-fact manner.

"Dick Barker's been nabbed for stealing a watch. You've got to get him
off."

"What do you mean? I've got to get him off?" cried Dudley, indignantly.

Carrie laughed.

"It's the message I was told to give you; that's all."

"Well, take this message back: that I refuse to have anything to do with
your pickpocket."

Carrie turned to the door.

"All right. I'm to say that to Mrs. Higgs?"

"Stop!" thundered Dudley.

Carrie paused, with her hand on the door.

"Did Mrs. Higgs send you?"

"Yes."

"Then wait a minute."

All the indignation, all the defiance, had gone from his tone. He looked
anxious, haggard.

Carrie sat down like an automaton in the chair nearest to the door.

There was a silence of some minutes' duration when Carrie announced
herself as a messenger from Mrs. Higgs.

Dudley, who had either forgotten the presence of Max or was past caring
how much his friend learned, since he already knew so much, walked up
and down between the fireplace and the bookcase on the opposite wall,
evidently debating what he should do. Carrie never once raised her eyes
from the carpet, but sat like a statue beside the door, apparently as
indifferent as possible as to the message she should take back.

Max had risen from his seat and was standing where he could get a full
view of her over the lamp on the dinner-table between them. Perhaps it
was the yellow paper shade around the light which made the young girl's
face look so ghastly, or the rusty black clothes she wore. A plain
skirt, the same that she had worn when he saw her first, a black stuff
cape of home-made pattern, and a big black straw hat which had evidently
done duty throughout the summer; all were neatly brushed and clean, but
well-worn and lusterless, and they heighten