"I should say luck was against me. I went in there with two hundred dollars, and all I have got left now is only a little more than enough to pay you." "Hard luck," commented the man, evidently relieved by the latter part of the sentence. "Home," ordered Farley, leaping into the carriage. As the vehicle passed the Grand Central Depot he happened to look out; it was at the precise moment when Al Alston handed the brakeman the pencil. "That boy here!" muttered Farley. "Well, he hasn't lost any time. I believe he is my evil genius. Somehow or other the sight of him sends a cold chill over me. I wonder if he saw me? I hope not. Pshaw! Why should I bother my head about the kid? I'll try to dismiss him from my mind for to-night." The task did not prove an easy one, however, though Farley stopped at two saloons on the way; when the carriage reached its destination his mind was still busy with the boy he hated. Having paid the driver with almost the last cent he possessed, he entered the house and ascended to the second story. Unlocking a door at the head of the stairs, he entered a plainly furnished flat. Miss Hollingsworth met him at the door. There was something in her face that he did not like, as she said: "Back at last, are you?" CHAPTER XXXI. A WOMAN'S VENGEANCE. Farley stared at her, scowling savagely, as he said: "What's the matter? Got one of your cranky fits? If so, you had best not worry me, for I'm in no mood for nonsense." "Neither am I," was the quiet reply. "But I am going to talk a little solid sense to you." "I won't listen to you. I'm tired, and want to sleep." "You will sleep soon, and soundly. Come into the drawing room." Farley followed her, asking: "How is the girl?" "Asleep, under the influence of another dose of the drug." "Good! Well, what have you to say?" And he threw himself into a chair. "I shall not detain you long. I see by your manner that you have lost again to-night." "Nearly every cent I had with me." "As usual." "I shall never enter Billy's place again." "No, I don't think you will." "What do you mean?" demanded Farley, uneasily. "I don't understand you to-night, Olga." "Don't you? Well, I will try to make myself understood." "Go on, then, and be quick about it. I'm dead tired." "I have stood by you for five years, have I not, Jack Farley?" demanded the woman, fixing her large, dark eyes firmly on those of her companion. "Well, what of that?" growled the man. "It has been to your interest to do so, hasn't it? Have you ever had a decent engagement that I have not obtained for you? And haven't I stuck to you, too? See here, Olga, I am in no mood for recriminations this morning, and you may as well quit just where you are. I see you are going to have one of your tantrums; well, you can have it all by yourself." Farley rose to leave the room, but his companion placed herself between him and the door. "Wait," she said, in a strange, hard tone.