"I say, Frank," said that individual, in a whisper, "we may be observed if we stand waiting here. I move we jump over the church-yard fence and wait on the inside until Jim and Ed show up." Careless now of what he did, and too much muddled in his brain through the fumes of the liquor to give the matter very much thought, Frank followed Cutts as he lightly leaped upon the low wall and vaulted the fence, landing inside among the snow-covered stones. At the same instant from among the trees in the shadow of the great church beyond a low whistle was heard, which was presently followed by the appearance of two dark forms moving cautiously toward the spot where they stood. "Hello, is that you, Billy?" The voice came from the advancing figures, now emerging from the trees. "Yes," called Cutts, in a whisper. "Is that you, Ed--you and Jim?" How came these two in the Trinity church-yard at this hour of the night? The strangeness of the thing struck the boy at once, as he stood leaning against the rail. "What the mischief are you fellows doing there?" he exclaimed, peering forward into the darkness. "Cutts, what does this thing mean?" "It means villainy, it means wickedness!" cried a feeble voice from the sidewalk below. "It means ruin to you, my son, if you persist in what you are about to do." There, kneeling upon the snow-covered pavement beneath the wall, Frank, turning suddenly and pressing his face against the iron palings, perceived a strange and weird form. It was a woman, old, faded and gray, who, with upturned features and hands clasped above her head now met his astonished gaze. It was the singular creature who had followed him from the gambling hall. Not for one moment had the boy been lost from her view. "Pause, my son!" she exclaimed, raising her clasped hands aloft with a supplicating air, as she knelt before him in the pure white snow. "Remember your dead father--I ask you not to remember me--pause before it is too late." "Hello!" cried Cutts, placing his hand on Frank's shoulder as he spoke, "who the mischief have we here?" As though stung by an adder, the boy shrank back from that aged form. "Mother!" he cried, in husky tones, "for God's sake, what brings you here? Have they let you escape again?" "Escape!" said the woman, in feeble tones. "Can doors hold a mother when danger besets her son? No, no, bolts and bars cannot keep me in. Locks amount to nothing for me. I roam the streets by night and by day, and I watch over you, my son." "She is mad, Cutts!" cried the boy angrily; "mad for years, and has escaped from those by whom she was confined. Follow me, and let's be done with this thing at once. With her on my hands I need the money more than ever now." He leaped the fence railing as he spoke with the lightness of a cat, landing by the woman's side.