ny people passed to and fro. Allie's senses
recognized a new sound--a confusion of music, dancing, hilarity, all
distinct, near at hand. She could scarcely keep up with Ancliffe. He did
not speak nor look to right or left.

At the corner of a large house--a long structure which sent out gleams
of light--Ancliffe opened a door and pulled Allie into a hallway, dark
near at hand, but brilliant at the other end. He drew her along this
passage, striding slower now and unsteadily. He turned into another
hall lighted by lamps. Music and gaiety seemed to sweep stunningly
into Allie's face. But Allie saw only one person there--a Negress. As
Ancliffe halted, the Negress rose from her seat. She was frightened.

"Call Stanton--quick!" he panted. He thrust gold at her. "Tell no one
else!"

Then he opened a door, pushed Allie into a handsomely furnished parlor,
and, closing the door, staggered to a couch, upon which he fell. His
face wore a singular look, remarkable for its whiteness. All its weary,
careless indifference had vanished.

As he lay back his hands loosed their hold of his coat and fell away all
bloody. The knife slid to the floor. A crimson froth flecked his lips.

"Oh--Heaven! You were--stabbed!" gasped Allie, sinking to her knees.

"If Stanton doesn't come in time--tell her what happened--ask her to
fetch Neale to you," he said. He spoke with extreme difficulty and a
fluttering told of blood in his throat. Allie could not speak. She
could not pray. But her sight and her perception were abnormally keen.
Ancliffe's strange, dear gaze rested upon her, and it seemed to Allie
that he smiled, not with lips or face, but in spirit. How strange and
beautiful.

Then Allie heard a rush of silk at the door. It opened--closed. A woman
of fair face, bare of arm and neck, glittering with diamonds, swept
into the parlor. She had great, dark-blue eyes full of shadows and they
flashed from Ancliffe to Allie and back again.

"What's happened? You're pale as death!... Ancliffe! Your hands--your
breast!... My God!"

She bent over him. "Stanton, I've been--cut up--and Hough is--dead."

"Oh, this horrible Benton!" cried the woman.

"Don't faint... Hear me. You remember we were curious about a
girl--Durade had in his place. This is she--Allie Lee. She is innocent.
Durade held her for revenge. He had loved--then hated her mother...
Hough won all Durade's gold--and then the girl... But we had to fight...
Stanton, this Allie Lee is