There was a cool defiance in the blue eyes of the boy, that won the admiration of Elliston in spite of his anger. "No, the game is too small," retorted Elliston, lowering his weapon. "I cannot afford to tarnish an honorable reputation by shedding the blood of a child. I shall, nevertheless, remember you, young man, and on the proper occasion give you the thrashing you so richly deserve." A look from Nell Darrel cut short the words that trembled on the lips of the youth. "I bid you good afternoon, Miss Darrel," and Elliston bowed and walked to the door. "I will see you again and explain matters." The door opened and closed, and the smooth villain was gone. "Thank Heaven!" murmured Nell. "It might have been worse," said the boy. "I did not miss my guess when I called him Elliston?" "No." "I thought not. You can see now that Harry Bernard had good reason for warning you to beware of Harper Elliston!" "I can see it plainly enough," returned the girl. "When will Harry come to Woodburg?" "I understand how anxious you are," said the boy, with a smile. "Harry is assisting Dyke to ferret out the railroad express crime, and it may be some weeks before he comes to this part of the State. I think he will be satisfied to know that you are true to him. It was his knowledge of Elliston's villainy that induced him to send me to see you with a note of warning." "I am thankful for his kindness, Mr. Ender." "Everybody calls me Paul, Miss Darrel." "And everybody (that is my friends), all call me Nell," returned the girl, with a pleasant little laugh. "Let it be Nell and Paul then," and the boy joined in her laugh, thus aiding in banishing the shadows of the day. Harry Bernard's youthful messenger soon after departed, promising to call again on the following day, when he might have another message from young Bernard, who was still supposed to be in St. Louis. In the meantime the angry and discomfited Elliston repaired to the hotel and made hasty preparations for departure. He left on the first train for Chicago. It was late in the evening that Mrs. Scarlet, in her den on Clark street, was roused from a nap she was indulging in, with her head against the wall, by a sharp rap at the door. Rousing up, she went to see who had come. She admitted a man with a plug hat and red whiskers. Professor Darlington Ruggles. "Aren't you glad to see me, Madam?" He held out a white set of digits. "No--why should I be glad?" She accepted the proffer of friendship, however, and shoved a rickety old chair for her visitor's use. "I'll tell you why. Because I am the best friend you've got in Chicago." "That wouldn't be saying much," and Mrs. Scarlet laughed harshly. "Wouldn't it?" "Didn't I say so? Nobody comes to see me now since poor Nephew Martin was taken from me. I feel about ready to die but for one thing." "And that?" "REVENGE!" Her eyes snapped in their hollow sockets and the withered bosom heaved with inward emotion. Mr. Ruggles emitted a laugh.