t flustered gentleman's eye.
A nod from the magnate sufficed him. Gilder, in truth, could not trust
himself just then to an audible command. He was seriously disturbed by
the gently spoken truths that had issued from the girl's lips. He was
not prepared with any answer, though he hotly resented every word of
her accusation. So, when he caught the question in the glance of
the officer, he felt a guilty sensation of relief as he signified an
affirmative by his gesture.

Cassidy faced about, and in his movement there was a tug at the wrist
of the girl that set her moving toward the door. Her realization of what
this meant was shown in her final speech.

"Oh, he can take me now," she said, bitterly. Then her voice rose above
the monotone that had contented her hitherto. Into the music of her
tones beat something sinister, evilly vindictive, as she faced about at
the doorway to which Cassidy had led her. Her face, as she scrutinized
once again the man at the desk, was coldly malignant.

"Three years isn't forever," she said, in a level voice. "When I come
out, you are going to pay for every minute of them, Mr. Gilder. There
won't be a day or an hour that I won't remember that at the last it was
your word sent me to prison. And you are going to pay me for that. You
are going to pay me for the five years I have starved making money for
you--that, too! You are going to pay me for all the things I am losing
today, and----"

The girl thrust forth her left hand, on that side where stood the
officer. So vigorous was her movement that Cassidy's clasp was thrown
off the wrist. But the bond between the two was not broken, for from
wrist to wrist showed taut the steel chain of the manacles. The girl
shook the links of the handcuffs in a gesture stronger than words. In
her final utterance to the agitated man at the desk, there was a cold
threat, a prophecy of disaster. From the symbol of her degradation, she
looked to the man whose action had placed it there. In the clashing of
their glances, hers won the victory, so that his eyes fell before the
menace in hers.

"You are going to pay me for this!" she said. Her voice was little more
than a whisper, but it was loud in the listener's heart. "Yes, you are
going to pay--for this!"

CHAPTER VI. INFERNO.

They were grim years, those three during which Mary Turner served her
sentence in Burnsing. There was no time off for good behavior. The girl
learned soon that the favor of tho