" he thought, on a sudden, "how do I know he may not
find a means of actually making me pay it? Women are always in a hurry.
Lecount is always in a hurry. I have got the afternoon before me--I'll
take the afternoon to consider it."

He fretfully put away the blotting-book and the sketch of the
advertisement on the chair which Mrs. Lecount had just left. As he
returned to his own seat, he shook his little head solemnly, and
arranged his white dressing-gown over his knees with the air of a
man absorbed in anxious thought. Minute after minute passed away; the
quarters and the half-hours succeeded each other on the dial of Mrs.
Lecount's watch, and still Noel Vanstone remained lost in doubt; still
no summons for the servants disturbed the tranquillity of the parlor
bell.

* * * * *

Meanwhile, after parting with Mrs. Lecount, Magdalen had cautiously
abstained from crossing the road to her lodgings, and had only ventured
to return after making a circuit in the neighborhood. When she found
herself once more in Vauxhall Walk, the first object which attracted
her attention was a cab drawn up before the door of the lodgings. A few
steps more in advance showed her the landlady's daughter standing at
the cab door engaged in a dispute with the driver on the subject of
his fare. Noticing that the girl's back was turned toward her, Magdalen
instantly profited by that circumstance and slipped unobserved into the
house.

She glided along the passage, ascended the stairs, and found herself,
on the first landing, face to face with her traveling companion! There
stood Mrs. Wragge, with a pile of small parcels hugged up in her arms,
anxiously waiting the issue of the dispute with the cabman in the
street. To return was impossible--the sound of the angry voices below
was advancing into the passage. To hesitate was worse than useless. But
one choice was left--the choice of going on--and Magdalen desperately
took it. She pushed by Mrs. Wragge without a word, ran into her own
room, tore off her cloak, bonnet and wig, and threw them down out of
sight in the blank space between the sofa-bedstead and the wall.

For the first few moments, astonishment bereft Mrs. Wragge of the power
of speech, and rooted her to the spot where she stood. Two out of the
collection of parcels in her arms fell from them on the stairs. The
sight of that catastrophe roused her. "Thieves!" cried Mrs. Wragge,
suddenly struck by an idea. "Thieves!"

Magdalen heard