banknotes in the paper.

There were not many people on the street as she neared the mean little
frame house, but she loitered until for the moment the immediate
vicinity was deserted; then she slipped into the alleyway, and stole
close to the side window, through which, she had noted from the street,
there shone a light. Yes, they were there, the two of them--she could
see them quite distinctly even through the shutters.

She went back to the front door then, and knocked. And presently the old
woman came and opened the door.

"This is yours," Rhoda said, and thrust the package into the woman's
hand. And as the woman looked from her to the package uncomprehendingly,
Rhoda Gray flung a quick "good-night" over her shoulder, and ran down
the steps again.

But a few moments later she stole back, and stood for an instant once
more by the shuttered window in the alleyway. And suddenly her eyes grew
dim. She saw an old man, white and haggard, with bandaged head, sitting
in a chair, the tears streaming down his face; and on the floor, her
face hidden on the other's knees, a woman knelt--and the man's hand
stroked and stroked the thin gray hair on the woman' s head.

And Rhoda Gray turned away. And out in the street her face was lifted
and she looked upward, and there were myriad stars. And there seemed a
beauty in them that she had never seen before, and a great, comforting
serenity. And they seemed to promise something--that through the window
of that stark and evil garret to which she was going now, they would
keep her dreaded vigil with her until morning came again.

XIV. THE LAME MAN

Another night--another day! And the night again had been without rest,
lest Danglar's dreaded footstep come upon her unawares; and the day
again had been one of restless, abortive activity, now prowling the
streets as Gypsy Nan, now returning to the garret to fling herself upon
the cot in the hope that in daylight, when she might risk it, sleep
would come, but it had been without avail, for, in spite of physical
weariness, it seemed to Rhoda Gray as though her tortured mind would
never let her sleep again. Danglar's wife! That was the horror that was
in her brain, yes, and in her soul, and that would not leave her.

And now night was coming upon her once more. It had even begun to grow
dark here on the lower stairway that led up to that wretched, haunted
garret above where in the shadows stark terror lurked. Strange! Most
strange