He placed pen, ink and paper on the table as he answered, and then looked to her inquiringly. "You may wait here while I write, if you will," she said, and took up the pen. She had brought away from the G---- House, the two cards of her would-be friends, and she now consulted them before she asked. "No. 52 ---- street; is that far, Henry?" "It's a five minutes' walk," he answered. "I can go and come in twenty minutes, allowing time for an answer." "Very good," she said, abruptly, and wrote rapidly: _Clarence Vaughan._ No. 52 ---- street. SIR--Having no other friend at hand, I take you at your word. I need your aid, to rescue me from the power of a bad man. Will you meet me, with a carriage, at the south corner of this block, in one hour, and take me to Mrs. Girard, who has offered me a shelter? You _know_ the danger I wish to escape. Aid me "_in the name of your mother_." MADELINE "WEIR." This is what she penned, and looking up she asked: "What is the number of this place, Henry?" "91 Empire block," he replied; "C---- street." She added this, and then folding and enclosing, addressed it to Clarence Vaughan, M. D., etc. "There, Henry, take it as quickly as you can; and some day I will try and reward you." She smiled upon him as she gave him the letter. He took it, bowed low, and hurried away. She listened until the sound of his footstep could be heard no longer. Then rising quickly, she opened the receptacle that held the portrait of the woman who, though unseen, was still an enemy. Long she gazed upon the pictured face, and when at last she closed the case, springing the lock with a sharp click, she muttered between set teeth: "I shall _know_ you when I see you, madame." Crossing to the pistol bracket, she took the little weapon in her hand, and picking up one of the cartridges left by its careless owner, loaded it carefully. Having done this she placed the weapon in her pocket. She paced to and fro, to and fro; nothing would have been harder for her than to remain quiet then. Her eyes wandered often to the tiny bronze clock on the marble above the grate. Ten minutes; her letter was delivered, was being answered perhaps;--fifteen; how slowly the moments were going!--twenty; what if _he_ should return, too soon? Instinctively she placed her hand upon the pocket holding the little pistol. Twenty-five minutes; what if her messenger should fail her? And that card had clearly stated "office hours three to five." Twenty-six; oh, how slow, how slow!--twenty-seven; had the clock stopped? no;--twenty-eight--nine--half an hour. Where was Henry?