The features of the old woman hardened. “You'll be safer in my care than in his,” she said, with warning in her tone. “Yes, yes, I know I am safe here, but how is it with my friend if I leave him here? We came together and we'll go together.” The crone nodded with a laugh that ended in a snarl. “If the gang knew he was here there would be more fun than you saw the other night.” “Don't worry about me, Mr. Wilton,” said Corson with a grin. “I've stood her crowd off before, and I can do it again if the need comes. But I'd rather smoke a poipe in peace.” “You can smoke in peace, but it's not yourself you can thank for it,” said Mother Borton sharply. “There'll be no trouble here to-night. Come along.” And the old woman started for the door. “Are you sure you're all right?” asked Corson in a low voice. “There's men gone up those stairs that came down with a sheet over them.” “It's all right--that is, unless there's any danger to you in leaving you here.” “No. Go ahead. I'll wait for ye. I'd as lief sit here as anywheres.” I hastened after Mother Borton, who was glowering at me from the doorway, and followed her footsteps in silence to the floor above. There was a dim light and a foul smell in the upper hall, both of which came from a lamp that burned with a low flame on a bracket by the forward stair. There were perhaps a dozen doors to be seen, all closed, but all giving the discomforting suggestion that they had eyes to mark my coming. Mother Borton walked the passage cautiously and in silence, and I followed her example until she pushed open a door and was swallowed up in the blackness. Then I paused on the threshold while she lighted a candle; and as I entered, she swiftly closed and locked the door behind me. “Sit down,” she said in a harsh voice, motioning me to a chair by the stand that held the candle. Then this strange creature seated herself in front of me, and looked steadily and sternly in my face for a full minute. The gaze of the piercing, deep-sunken eyes of the old hag, the evil lines that marked the lean, sharp features, gaining a still more sinister meaning from the wavering, flickering light thrown upon her face by the candle, gave me a feeling of anything but ease in my position. “What have you done that I should help you?” she broke forth in a harsh voice, her eyes still fixed on my face. “I really couldn't say,” I replied politely. “You have done me one or two services already. That's the best reason I know why you should do me another.” The hard lines on the face before me relaxed at the sound of my voice, and the old woman nodded approvingly. “Ay, reason enough, I guess. Them as wants better can find it themselves. But why did you sneak out of the house the other night like a cop in plain clothes? Didn't I go bail you were safe? Do you want any better word than mine?” she had begun almost softly, but the voice grew higher and harsher as she went on.