er, as if in another instant she
would fall--and fall--and fall--.

Suddenly she heard a laugh in the hall again--this time there was no
mistake about it, for it was followed by several voices. Some one
approached the door.

A key was inserted and turned in the lock.

She started to her feet, and steadied herself!

The door swung open quickly--some one entered. By the dim light in the
hall behind, she saw that it was a man--a gentleman in evening
clothes, with a hat on the back of his head, and a coat over his arm.

But while her alert senses took that in, the door closed again--the
man had remained inside.

The thought of making a dash for the door came to her, but it was too
late.

She heard the scratching of a match--a muttered oath at the darkness
in a thick voice--then a sudden flood of light blinded her.

She drew her hands quickly across her eyes, and was conscious that the
man had flung his hat and coat on the bed before he turned to face
her.

In a moment all her fear was gone.

She stumbled weakly as she ran toward him, crying hysterically, "Jack,
dear Jack, how did you find me? I should have gone mad if you had been
much later! Take me home! Take me home--"

Had Miss Moreland fainted, as a well-conducted girl of her class ought
to have done, this would have been a very different kind of a story.

Unluckily, or luckily, according as one views life--in the relief of
his presence, all danger of that fled. Unluckily for him, also, the
appearance of his bride-elect in such an unexpected place was so
appalling to him that his nerve failed him entirely. Instead of
clasping her in his arms as he should have done, he had the decency
to recoil, and cover his face instinctively from her eyes.

Miss Moreland stopped as if turned to stone.

She was conscious at first of but one thing--he had not expected to
find her there. He had not come to seek her. Then, for what?

A sudden flash illumined her ignorance, and behind it she grasped at
the vague accusation her other suitor had tried to make to her
unwilling ears.

Her outstretched hands fell to her sides.

He still leaned against the wall, where the shock had flung him. The
exciting fumes of the wine he had drunk too recklessly evaporated, and
only a dim recollection remained in his absolutely sobered brain of
the idiotic wager, the ugly jest, the still more contemptible bravado
that had sent him into this hell.

He did not attempt to speak.

Whe