“Yes, Mr. Haworth, that was all; an’ I was worryin’ the life clean out o’ me. Terrible warn’t no name fur it! I couldn’t tell ye!” “You did it for me, Mrs. Temple, and you’ve always been doing things for me. Please don’t think I haven’t noticed.” The old woman’s trembling hand made two or three fumbles for her apron before she realized that she wasn’t wearing one, and a tear or two ran unmolested down her withered cheek. “And—I—I’ve got to ask you,” he went on, hesitatingly (and then came another of the frightful things that were to alarm her on this fearsome day)—“I’ve got to ask you to do something more for me, Mrs. Temple.” She looked up, staring at him with apprehension in her tear-wet eyes. And he went on to tell her how it seemed best that she should stay away from the house for a few days—just until one of his inventions was crated and out of the way—something very important that had to be kept secret, as there was no patent—so just a few days—— “Mr. Haworth,” she interrupted, “do please listen to me! Ye mustn’t have no more to do with them creatures. They ain’t right, Mr. Haworth; they’re crooked an’ treach’rous, every one o’ ’em—awful men! That Pentecost, he wouldn’t stop at nothin’—nothin’ in the world! Don’t let ’em in here again—don’t do it, Mr. Haworth! I beg ye won’t do it!” “But I must, Mrs. Temple. They’ve bought one of my machines.” The old woman was struck silent for an instant. “Be they goin’ to pay ye money for it?” “Yes.” “You mean money right down?” “Yes,—it’s got to be that way.” A pause. Then: “Mr. Haworth, there’s some trick! Ef them jailbirds pay you money down they’ll rob it away from ye! They’re a-goin’ to git you some way—they wouldn’t be here if they wasn’t. I’ve seen spellbinders like them be—yes, an’ had to do with ’em too! Don’t turn me away now. Wait till after I’ve got ’em out an’ then I’ll go! Not now—not now, Mr. Haworth. You ain’t no person to cope with such as them.” The young man stood looking at Mrs. Temple’s face, unable to speak. Suddenly he turned away and uttering a broken “I can’t—I can’t——You must go!” he turned and fled from the room. * * * * * For the following few days Mrs. Temple’s anxiety concerning the unknown danger she considered Haworth to be in overshadowed the lacerated feelings that naturally followed the poor soul’s expulsion from the house. No particle of blame could attach to him, for was he not under the malign influence of a gang of criminals and in no way responsible for what he did? This she felt, and her heart harbored no bitterness—though it had been cruelly hurt. She must find out in some way what villainy these human sharks were planning, though for the present nothing was possible but to keep close watch on the house.