quivered threateningly in the
air.

Buckingham was first to ascend the steps in pursuit. He was
disarmed--more through the superiority of Nell's position than through
the dexterity of her wrist.

Then for the first time, she realized her danger. Her eyes staring from
their sockets, she drew back from her murderous pursuers, and, in
startled accents, she knew not why, screamed in supplication, with hands
uplifted:

"Gentlemen! Gentlemen!"

The storm was stayed. All paused to hear what the stranger-youth would
say. Would he apologize or would he surrender?

The suspense was for but a second, though it seemed an eternity to Nell.

The open window was behind.

With a parting glance at the trembling blades, she turned quickly and
with reckless daring leaped the balcony.

"T' hell with ye!" was wafted back in a rich brogue defiantly by the
night.

Astonishment and consternation filled the room; but the bird had flown.
Some said that the wicked farewell-speech had been Adair's, and some
said not.

How it all happened, no one could tell, unless it was a miracle.

CHAPTER XV

_I come, my love; I come._

One lonely candle, or to speak more strictly a bit of one, sputtered in
its silver socket in the cosy drawing-room; and a single moonbeam found
its way in through the draperies of the window leading to the terrace
and to St. James's Park.

Moll lay upon a couch asleep; but it was a restless sleep.

The voice of a town-crier resounded faintly across the park: "Midnight;
and all is well."

She started up and rubbed her eyes in a bewildered way.

"The midnight crier!" she thought; and there was a troubled expression
in her face. "I have been asleep and the candle's nearly out."

She jumped to her feet and hastily lighted two or three of its more
substantial mates, of which there was an abundance in the rich
candelabra about the room.

A cricket in a crevice startled her. She ran to the window and looked
anxiously out upon the park, then hastened to the door, with equal
anxiety, lest it might be unlocked. Every shadow was to her feverish
fancy a spirit of evil or of death.

"I wish Nell would come," she thought. "The ghosts and skeletons fairly
swarm in this old house at midnight; and I am all alone to-night. It's
different when Nell's about. The goblins are afraid of her merry laugh.
Boo! I am cold all over. I am afraid to stand still, and I am afraid to
move."

She ran ag