The old woman on the other side of the door slept heavily, recking little of the train of consequences her story had started. She might not have withheld it had she known. The striking of the clock admonished Margaret that she had no time to lose. She caught up the baby, bonneted and cloaked against the cold, hushed it with soft whisperings, and stole down the stairs. She did not stop to look around--perhaps she did not dare--she had come to the house a bride; she was leaving it a fugitive. The door creaked as it swung back on its massive hinges. The sound startled her. Outside the street was silent and empty. The city was sleeping its beauty sleep. She closed the door softly, pressed her baby close to her breast, and slipped out into the darkness. CHAPTER XVI IN THE "NORTH COUNTREE" Richard de Jarnette was sitting down to a late breakfast the next morning when his telephone bell rang. He answered it impatiently, as was natural. But what he heard there caused him to leave his hot waffles untouched and go hurrying over to the house on Massachusetts Avenue. At Margaret's door he met Judge Kirtley, brought thither by a similar message, and together they entered the house. It was evident to Mr. De Jarnette that Judge Kirtley's surprise was as unfeigned as his own. The servants were gathered in the lower hall in a state of great excitement, with nobody in command. Johnson, the man servant, related how he had found the front door unlocked and fearing burglary had gone straight to Mrs. De Jarnette's room and knocked and knocked without rousing anybody. Then Mammy Cely took up the tale, telling of how she had heard Johnson's knock and made sure she had overslept, etc.--of how she had gone into Miss Margaret's room and found it in confusion, and nobody there. There were two letters that-- Mr. De Jarnette cut her short by demanding to see the room and the letters. They found every evidence of a hasty flight. Drawers had been left open with their contents tumbled about, clothes were lying on the floor, and the disordered bed showed that she had risen from it to go. The two men read their letters hastily, but with widely different emotions. Mr. De Jarnette took the key enclosed with his and opened the drawer. The diamonds were there as she had said. He locked the drawer and handed the key to Judge Kirtley. "As her legal adviser you will, of course, take charge of the place. These things should be put in safe keeping." Then, with a change of tone that was not pleasant. "I suppose it is hardly worth while to enquire of you where she has gone." "I know no more, sir, about where she has gone than you do," the Judge answered, indignantly. "You can see for yourself," handing him Margaret's letter. Then he added, sternly, his face working with emotion. "I only know that she has become a homeless fugitive."