imminent departure, although an hour might elapse before it would back
into the current. The sun widened, clung briefly to the horizon, and
dropped behind the low hills beyond the bottom lands; the stream grew
purple, then took on a lustre of pearl as the stars came out, while rosy
distances changed to misty blue; the chatter of the birds in the Main
Street maples became quieter, and, through lessening little choruses of
twittering, fell gradually to silence. And now the blue dusk crept on
the town, and the corner drug-store window-lights threw mottled colors
on the pavement. From the hall, outside the closed office-door, came
the sound of quick, light footsteps; it was Crailey going out; but Tom
only sighed to himself, and did not hail him. So these light footsteps
of Crailey Gray echoed but a moment in the stairway and were heard no
more.

A few moments later a tall figure, dressed from neck to heels in a gray
cloak crossed the mottled lights, and disappeared into Carewe Street.
This cloaked person wore on his head a soldier's cap, and Tom, not
recognizing him surely, vaguely wondered why Tappingham Marsh chose to
muffle himself so warmly on a evening. He noted the quick, alert tread
as like Marsh's usual gait, but no suspicion crossed his mind that the
figure might be that of partner.

A rocket went up from the Rouen House, then another, followed by a salvo
of anvils and rackety discharge of small-arms; the beginning a noble
display of fireworks in celebration of prospective victories of the
United States and utter discomfiture of the Mexicans when the Rouen
Volunteers should reach the seat of war, an Exhibition of patriotism
which brought little pleasure to Mr. Vanrevel.

But over the noise of the street he heard his own name shouted from the
stairway, and almost instantly a violent knocking assailed the door.
Be-fore he could bid the visitor enter, the door was flung open by a
stout and excited colored woman, who, at sight of him, threw up her
hands in tremulous thanksgiving. It was the vain Mamie.

She sank into a chair, and rocked herself to and fro, gasping to regain
her lost breath. "Bless de good God 'Imighty you am' gone out!" she
panted. "I run an' I run, an' I come so fas' I got stitches in de side
f'um head to heel!"

Tom brought her a glass of water, which she drank between gasps.

"I nevah run so befo' enduin' my livin' days," she asserted. "You knows
me, who I am an' whum I cum f'um, nigh's well'