All the _bric a brac_ had been removed from the sideboard and tables. Some of the dresser drawers were half open, and pieces of tissue paper and ribbons were hanging out. On the armchair was a small alligator bag, containing toilet articles and a bunch of keys. The writing-desk had all its contents removed, and was open, showing scraps of torn-up letters. Lying on the floor, where it had been dropped, was a New York Central timetable. Between the desk and the bay-window stood a milliner's box, inside of which was a huge picture hat. Under the desk were a pair of old slippers, a woman's shabby hat and old ribbons. The picture frames and basket of flowers had been removed from the pianola, while the music-stool was on top of the instrument, turned upside down. Between the legs of this stool was an empty _White Rock_ bottle, with a tumbler turned over it. The big trunk stood in front of the sofa, all packed, and it had a swing-tray, in which lay a fancy evening gown. On top of the lid was an umbrella, a lady's traveling-coat, hat, and gloves. On the sofa was a large Gladstone bag, packed and fastened, and close by a smaller trunk-tray with lid. In the end of the tray was a revolver wrapped in tissue paper. The trunk was closed, and apparently locked. The room had the general appearance of having been stripped of all personal belongings. Old magazines and newspapers were scattered all over the place. Pale and perturbed, Laura sat nervously, starting at each little sound she heard from the street. Every now and then she consulted the small traveling clock which she held in her hand. Why didn't John come. She was all ready. Everything was packed. All they had to do now was to call a cab and drive to the railroad station. Thank God, she had got rid of Brockton! That danger, at least, was removed. John knew nothing, could hear nothing now until they were safely married. If afterwards he heard things and demanded an explanation, she would tell him everything and he would forgive her. "Ain't yuh goin' to let me come to yuh at all, Miss Laura?" asked the maid with a pout. "I don't know yet, Annie. I don't even know what the place is like that we're going to. Mr. Madison hasn't said much. There hasn't been time." "Why, Ah've done ma best for yuh, Miss Laura; yes, Ah have. Ah've jest been with yuh ev'ry moment of ma time, an' Ah worked for yuh an Ah loved yuh, an, Ah doan wan' to be left 'ere all alone in dis town er New York." Laura turned to the door for a moment, and, while her back was turned Annie stooped, grabbed up a ribbon, and hid it behind her back. "Ah ain't the kind of culled lady knows many people. Can't yuh take me along wid yuh, Miss Laura? Yuh all been so good to me." Getting up from the trunk, Laura went to the outer door and listened. Hearing nothing, she returned with a gesture of disappointment. With some irritation, she said: