Suddenly losing his interest in the prancing horses, Van Vernet turned and hastily approached the mansion, screened from the view of the two women by the massive stone steps. Even a beggar, of the ordinary type, respects the house of mourning. And as he drew near them, Vernet mentally assured himself that these were no ordinary mendicants. They were standing close to the basement-entrance. And as he stealthily approached, he saw that the elder woman put into the hand of the servant, who had opened the door, a folded paper which she took reluctantly, glanced down at, and with a sullen nod put into the pocket of her apron. Then, without a word to the two beggars, she closed and locked the door, while they, seeming not in the least disconcerted, turned and moved leisurely up the basement-stairs. They would have passed Vernet hurriedly, but he put out his hand and said: "Look here, my good souls, don't you know that this is no place for beggars? You can't be very old in the business or you'd never trouble a house where you see _that_ on the door." And pointing to the badge of mourning, he concluded his oration: "Be off, now, and thank fortune that I'm a good-natured fellow." The woman muttered something after the usual mendicant fashion, and hastened away down the street. At the same moment the prancing horses, held to a walk by the firm hand of their stout driver, came opposite the mansion, and a face muffled in folds of crape looked out from the carriage. But Van Vernet had now no eyes for the horses, the carriage, or its occupant. Noting, with a hasty glance, the direction taken by the two women, he sprang down the basement-steps and rang the bell. The servant who had opened to the women, again appeared at the door. "What do _you_ want?" she asked, crossly; for being an honest servant she had no fear of the blue coat and brass buttons of the law. The bogus policeman touched his hat and greeted her with an affable smile. "I beg your pardon," he said; "I thought you might be annoyed by those beggars. I can remove them if you enter a complaint. I saw that they gave you some kind of a paper; a begging letter, probably. Just give it to me, and I will see that they don't intrude again upon people who are in trouble enough." He extended his hand for the letter; but the servant drew back, and answered hastily: "Don't bother yourself. I've had my orders, and I guess when I don't want beggars around, I know how to send them to the right-about." And without waiting to note the effect of her speech, she shut the door in his face, leaving him to retreat as the two beggars had done. [Illustration: "Be off, now, and thank fortune that I am a good-natured fellow."--page 181.] Hastening up the steps he looked after the women, who were already nearly two blocks away. Then, with one backward glance, he started off in the same direction, keeping at a safe distance, but always in sight of them.