e nowhere to be seen.

"Curse the luck!" cried Nick, "we have lost them. The next time I'll
stop for no explanations."

There was no particular reason why I should have been penitent, but I
ventured to say that the house they had entered could not be far off.

"And how the devil are we to know it?" demanded Nick.

This puzzled me for a moment, but presently I began to think that the
two might begin quarrelling again, and said so. Nick laughed and put his
arm around my neck.

"You have no mean ability for intrigue when you put your mind to
it, Davy," he said; "I vow I believe you are in love with the girl
yourself."

I disclaimed this with some vehemence. Indeed, I had scarcely seen her.

"They can't be far off," said Nick; "we'll pitch on a likely house and
camp in front of it until bedtime."

"And be flung into a filthy calaboose by a constable," said I. "No,
thank you."

We walked on, and halfway down the block we came upon a new house with
more pretensions than its neighbors. It was set back a little from the
street, and there was a high adobe wall into which a pair of gates were
set, and a wicket opening in one of them. Over the wall hung a dark
fringe of magnolia and orange boughs. On each of the gate-posts a
crouching lion was outlined dimly against the fainting light, and, by
crossing the street, we could see the upper line of a latticed gallery
under the low roof. We took our stand within the empty doorway of a
blackened house, nearly opposite, and there we waited, Nick murmuring
all sorts of ridiculous things in my ear. But presently I began to
reflect upon the consequences of being taken in such a situation by a
constable and dragged into the light of a public examination. I put this
to Nick as plainly as I could, and was declaring my intention of going
back to Madame Bouvet's, when the sound of voices arrested me. The
voices came from the latticed gallery, and they were low at first, but
soon rose to such an angry pitch that I made no doubt we had hit on
the right house after all. What they said was lost to us, but I could
distinguish the woman's voice, low-pitched and vibrant as though
insisting upon a refusal, and the man's scarce adult tones, now high as
though with balked passion, now shaken and imploring. I was for leaving
the place at once, but Nick clutched my arm tightly; and suddenly, as I
stood undecided, the voices ceased entirely, there were the sounds of a
scuffle, and the lattice of t