“There was no resisting an argument put in this complimentary way, Miss Spicer. It went at once to the heart.” “I should think it was rather intended to go to my pocket,” answered the young lady with a short, sneering laugh. “So if I do not pay the money down your Mr. Mahone will allow these people to escape. Is that what you mean?” “I am inclined to think that was Mr. Mahone’s meaning,” answered Ellen, holding up her veil again and admiring it with her head on one side like a heron looking at his shadow in the water. “But it was all for my sake, so you must not think hard of him.” “Miss Post, my Ellen!” The voice which uttered these words came from the kitchen out of which a door opened. Then Mr. Mahone appeared. “Your Adonis,” said Miss Spicer with a short laugh. “No,” answered Ellen, innocently, “his name is Mahone.” “I beg pardon,” said the footman, advancing into the room, “I thought this young lady was alone. Boyce has just come in, would you like to speak with him?” Ellen looked at Miss Spicer, who nodded her head. “He can come in if you desire,” said Ellen with dignity, “but first allow me to put these garments out of sight.” Directly the footman entered the room again, followed by Boyce, who presented himself with an air of mingled awkwardness and audacity that would have excited either anger or ridicule in Miss Spicer at any other time; now her mind was occupied with the business in hand, so she watched him with keen interest. “This young man has brought me word that the person whom you take so much interest in is safe in prison and will be examined to-day,” said Mahone, addressing Ellen, but looking at the young lady. “He has just come from the Tombs.” “Then they are both shut up, the mother and the boy,” said Ellen. “That’s so,” answered Boyce, seating himself on the edge of a chair and crushing his hat with both hands, “salt can’t save ’em after this. They’ve got to go.” “Then these poor creatures are certainly in prison?” questioned the young lady, breaking out of all prudent bounds when she thought her vengeance on the fair way to completion. “No mistake about that, Miss, you’d a thought so if you had seen how they took on—affecting, I can tell you, enough to bring tears from a common ball. Almost snivelled myself, if you’ll excuse the word, Miss.” “Then it is certain?” questioned Miss Spicer. “As bolts and bars can make it,” said Mahone. “This young man’s evidence is enough to convict a born angel.” “And I have given it—and shall have to give it again—nothing but cutting loose and running away can stop that,” said the youth, adding the last sentence in reply to a wink from Mahone. “Thank you very much,” said Ellen Post, dismissing the grocer’s clerk as if she had been an Empress. “I took an interest in these people on account of the boy, but if they are really guilty, of course all sympathy ends.”