"Scoundrel! If you harm that child, I, myself, will weave the rope to hang you!" Jack leered at her. "So Signora"--laughed, laughed low and derisively. "Ha, ha, ha, Signora lak-a da job, eh? Eesa mak-a da boss a hang-a man, eh?" Jack could not repress a smile of admiration at her courage, and his lips quivered to exclaim: "God, she is game!" "An-a deesea lettle white-a da hands-a," he sneered. "Stain 'em all a da red, eh?" and he chuckled low, as though amused. "Oh, ha, ha, ha." Suddenly he changed his tone and again continued threateningly. "Now look-a da ere. Eef-a youse-a da want a kid, gett-a da mon a da quick--twenty da thous, for eesa tink a da move-a da way. May bees gett-a da organ en-a da monk, go down South Amereek. Eef youse-a danna da squeal, da kid bees-a da safe; but effe youse-a da tell a po-lis, eesa mak-a da me a devil," and he again drew close to her and hissed out between his teeth. "When eesa be lik-a dat, Eesa does a da murda," and so saying, he thrust his hand inside his double-breasted short coat, and partially drew out a glittering knife. "Eesa you da see?"--and he leaned over to her, a sinister glint shooting from the corner of his eye--"Eesa slit more's a da one-a windpipe." As he replaced the knife, a low whistle sounded off toward the right. It startled him, for he muttered as if alarmed. "Ha, some one is watching me." And without another word or moment of delay, glided off southward, and disappeared in the darkness. Sam having seen the glitter of a knife against the dim city lights, unconsciously gave a low whistle of warning, and sprang to his feet. He believed Virginia was in imminent peril. For a moment he stood irresolute, unwilling to uncover his identity to her or to in any wise have her think he had been shadowing her. Then feeling satisfied she was not hurt, he sped away on the track of the Italian. Virginia was alone. She, also, had seen the figure of a man suddenly loom up on the right and then hasten after the supposed Italian. The terror that now had seized her, the strain that gave artificial courage, so worked upon her nerves as to produce a trembling of her limbs, and to avoid a threatened collapse she sank down on the grass. Her strength gradually returned, her agitation quieted and she began to think with lucidity. She had been followed by whom? Most likely a detective in the pay of her brother. "Thank God!" His unknown presence at a perilous moment had been sweetly welcome. "Dorothy is not dead," she thought. "Thank Heaven for that, too; but she is in the hands of a murderous scoundrel, who would not hesitate to shed innocent blood were his own safety jeoparded." An attempt at rescue by the police would, no doubt, result in the death of Dorothy. She must act alone, act at once. Having arrived at that conclusion, she arose to her feet. To get Dorothy home was the first thing to be done--the mother's life depended upon that.