lower floor where there were no
bedrooms, and a thrill of excitement passed over her. She crept as
silently as possible down the back stairs, and toward the sound, which
she was now sure was in the library.

What was the sound? It was the rustling of papers. It might be made by a
mouse, but Millicent was not even afraid of mice. She was afraid of
nothing, so far as she knew. If there was a robber there, he would
certainly run when discovered. At the worst she could give a loud
outcry, and the servants would come.

She tiptoed along the lower hall. A man sat at her father's desk,
examining his private papers so carefully, that he seemed wholly lost in
the occupation.

The room was quite light. In fact, the gas was lit, and the intruder was
taking his utmost ease. His face was half turned toward the girl, and
she recognized him without difficulty.

It was Hannibal!

Hannibal, whom she supposed at that moment in France!

Without pausing to form any plan, Millicent stepped into the presence of
the negro.

"Thief," she said, sharply, "what do you want?"

They had hated each other cordially for a long time, and neither had
changed their opinion in the slightest degree. Hannibal looked up
quietly at the figure in the doorway.

"I have a good mind to tell you," he said, smiling.

"You will _have_ to tell me, and give a pretty good reason, too, if you
mean to keep out of the hands of the police," she retorted. "Come!"

He laughed silently, resting his head on his hands, his elbows on the
desk. Millicent's hair hung in a loose coil, her shoulders were but
imperfectly covered by her half buttoned gown, the feet that filled her
slippers had no hosiery on them. She was as fair a sight as one might
find in a year.

"Do you remember the time I saw you in this guise before?" he asked, in
a low voice.

A convulsion seized the girl's countenance. She looked as if she would
willingly have killed him, had she a weapon in her hand. But she could
not speak at first.

"It was you who sought me then," said the negro. "And because I bade you
go back to your chamber, you never forgave me. Have you forgotten?"

Gasping for breath, like one severely wounded, Millicent roused herself.

"Will you go," she demanded, hotly, "or shall I summon help?"

"Neither," replied Hannibal. "If you inform any person that I am here, I
will tell the story I hinted at just now. Besides, I would only have to
wait until your father came down, wh