fear; besides, she'll be out when we come, and asleep
when we go. She will never know we've been in the house."

"That has nothing to do with it," said Crailey, impatiently; and he was
the more earnest because he remembered the dangerous geography of
the Carewe house, which made it impossible for anyone to leave the
cupola-room except by the long hall which passed certain doors. "I will
not go, and what's more, I promised Fanchon I'd try to keep you out of
it hereafter."

"Lord, but we're virtuous!" laughed the incredulous Jefferson. "I'll
come for you at a quarter to nine."

"I will not go, I tell you."

Jefferson roared. "Yes, you will. You couldn't keep from it if you
tried!" And he took himself off, laughing violently, again promising to
call for Crailey on his way to the tryst, and leaving him still warmly
protesting that it would be a great folly for either of them to go.

Crailey looked after the lad's long, thin figure with an expression as
near anger as he ever wore. "He'll go," he said to himself.

"And--ah, well--I'll have to risk it! I'll go with him, but only to try
and bring him away early--that is, as early as it's safe to be sure that
they are asleep downstairs. And I won't play. No, I'll not play; I'll
not play."

He paid his score and went out of the hotel by a side door. Some
distance up the street, Bareaud was still to be seen, lounging homeward
in the pleasant afternoon sunshine, he stopped on a corner and serenely
poured another quinine powder into himself and threw the paper to a
couple of pigs who looked up from the gutter maliciously.

"Confound him!" said Crailey, laughing ruefully. "He makes me a
missionary--for I'll keep my word to Fanchon in that, at least! I'll
look after Jefferson tonight. Ah, I might as well be old Tom Vanrevel,
indeed!"

Meanwhile, Mr. Carewe had taken possession of his own again. His
daughter ran to the door to meet him; she was trembling a little, and,
blushing and smiling, held out both her hands to him, so that Mrs.
Tanberry vowed this was the loveliest creature in the world, and the
kindest.

Mr. Carewe bowed slightly, as to an acquaintance, and disregarded the
extended hands.

At that, the blush faded from Miss Betty's cheeks; she trembled no more,
and a salutation as icy as her father's was returned to him. He bent his
heavy brows upon her, and shot a black glance her way, being, of course,
immediately enraged by her reflection of his own manner, bu