Cliffwood! Antony could have kicked himself for not recognising in all this pomp of iron-gated villas, the scattered collection of estates thus poetically christened. "That's a bad business about them murdering thieves, isn't it, sir?" pursued the driver confidentially. Antony's heart sank like lead. "Murdering?" he gasped, "did the Frenchman die, then?" "Oh, him!" returned the driver scornfully, "no, he didn't, the foreign pup. How could he--that old snake hasn't a fang in his head!" Antony grasped the seat beneath him and drew a long, deep breath. "I--I am glad to hear it," he said concisely, and as he spoke the incoming train whistled--a mellow, pleasing note that sang of freedom (yea, and guiltless freedom!) to wedding guest and housemaid alike. Forth from the train, ere hardly it had stopped, leaped an eager pair, a man and a maid, not too precisely attired, for their garments were rumpled and not such as the critical in these matters assume when bound for a wedding festival. Yet they did not seem unhappy, these two, but rather lenient and tender in their judgments upon all the world, for they smiled sweetly upon the empty platform, and sweetly, if a little vaguely, upon Antony, who advanced to meet them, hat in hand. "Mr. Amory, I presume?" he said airily. "I came down to get you, but I find I must send a telegram, on account of the trains running so poorly here, and so I will not detain you a second, as I am sure you cannot see Mrs.--Mrs. Richard too soon. They will send back for me." "Thanks, old man--are they caught?" cried the lately arrived, making for the station-waggon, and staring at the diamond horseshoe in Antony's pearl grey tie, Antony touched it knowingly and smiled. "No. They are not caught yet," he said, "but we're on the scent!" "Good!" exclaimed the other, "now jump in, dear," and as the last bit of baggage left the train and the waggon turned, Antony fled through the station and raced up the steps of the moving car, hand in hand with the pretty housemaid. They seated themselves amid curious and friendly smiles. "I will speak when the wheels are well started," thought Antony, and then, "when she gets her breath, I will say something," but with each minute overwhelming embarrassment wrapped him, more deeply, and he sat, with averted eyes, in silence. Just as they slackened pace to pause at Brookdale and he motioned her to rise, she spoke, huskily and with an evident effort. "What will you do with the chain and the pin?" "Put them, with all these clothes and five dollars, in the trunk, row the three pieces across the river, meet them with a cart and express them to Mr. Ashley from Turnersville," he answered, promptly and with a rapid lucidity which astonished himself. "They will be surprised," she remarked indifferently, as she descended the steps of the train, and: "It is probable that they will," he agreed. * * * * *