ors in this tragedy of life, met for the first
time in over two years--Mrs. Hoyt, _alias_ Bray, and Pinky Swett. It had
not gone very well with either of them during that period. Pinky, as the
reader knows, had spent the time in prison, and Mrs. Bray, who had also
gone a step too far in her evil ways, was now hiding from the police
under a different name from any heretofore assumed. They met, by what
seemed an accident, on the street.

"Pinky!"

"Fan!"

Dropped from their lips in mutual surprise and pleasure. A little while
they held each other's hands, and looked into each other's faces with
keenly-searching, sinister eyes, one thought coming uppermost in the
minds of both--the thought of that long-time-lost capital in trade, the
cast-adrift baby.

From the street they went to Mrs. Bray's hiding-place a small
ill-furnished room in one of the suburbs of the city--and there took
counsel together.

"What became of that baby?" was one of Mrs. Bray's first questions.

"It's all right," answered Pinky.

"Do you know where it is?"

"Yes."

"And can you put your hand on it?"

"At any moment."

"Not worth the trouble of looking after now," said Mrs. Bray, assuming
an indifferent manner.

"Why?" Pinky turned on her quickly.

"Oh, because the old lady is dead."

"What old lady?"

"The grandmother."

"When did she die?"

"Three or four weeks ago."

"What was her name?" asked Pinky.

Mrs. Bray closed her lips tightly and shook her head.

"Can't betray thatt secret," she replied.

"Oh, just as you like;" and Pinky gave her head an impatient toss. "High
sense of honor! Respect for the memory of a departed friend! But it
won't go down with me, Fan. We know each other too well. As for the
baby--a pretty big one now, by the way, and as handsome a boy as you'll
find in all this city--he's worth something to somebody, and I'm on that
somebody's track. There's mother as well as a grandmother in the case,
Fan."

Mrs. Bray's eyes flashed, and her face grew red with an excitement she
could not hold back. Pinky watched her keenly.

"There's somebody in this town to-day who would give thousands to get
him," she added, still keeping her eyes on her companion. "And as I was
saying, I'm on that somebody's track. You thought no one but you and
Sal Long knew anything, and that when she died you had the secret all to
yourself. But Sal didn't keep mum about it."

"Did she tell you anything?" demanded Mrs. Bray, throw