"Oh, he's gone to see his best girl, I reckon." "What's her name?" queried Robert, wondering if Hawthorne was off with the old love, and on with a new one. "I don't know," and Robert was about to turn off in disgust at the good-natured levity of the other when Captain Stansbury, who was inside, overheard him, and came to the rescue. "You want Hawthorne?" he said. "Well, he isn't here." "I know, but I want him very particular. Can't you tell me where to find him?" The genial captain laughed, and answered: "I can tell you, but I can also tell you, young man, that he doesn't like to be bothered when he goes a-courting!" "Has he gone to see Miss Harding?" "Yes." "At the old address?" "Yes." "Thank you," and Robert whirled his keen little cutter about, and was soon out of sight. "A likely lad," laughed the fireman, and then he and the captain went indoors. Five minutes later a double sleigh whirled around the nearest corner, and came to a sudden stop in front of the engine-house. A man got out in the snow, and waded over to the door, followed by the yearning eyes of a girl whose fair face glowed like a rose, it was so beautiful in its eager tenderness. "Oh, my love, how long the day has been without you, but I shall see you at last!" she whispered to herself, fondly. The man went inside the double-doors and looked at the splendid horses neighing in their stalls. No one was in sight. The men were back in the office amusing themselves with a game of cards. He could hear them laughing and bantering each other. He remained there a moment out of sight of Geraldine, then, with a sigh of relief, hurried back to the sleigh. "It's very strange, but Mr. Hawthorne has gone," he said, in that thick, muffled voice. "He left word for me to bring you to Cortlandt street ferry." "That is so far. I think he might have waited for us," the girl said, half to herself, and pettishly. "Oh, maybe there was a fire down that way," Jem Rhodes returned, plausibly. "Go on, driver." As they started, Captain Stansbury, who fancied he had heard something stopping outside, came and looked out and Geraldine saw his portly figure framed there a moment in the glare of an electric light. She looked back, but he did not recognize her as the sleigh whirled past. Alas! why did not some subtle voice in her heart warn her that she was in deadly peril, and make her cry out to him to follow and save her from the snare into which she had fallen? The call at the engine-house was only a part of the actor's plan for lulling Geraldine's suspicions to rest. It had succeeded splendidly, and, with an exultant heart, he resumed his place by her side, burning with the desire to take her fair form in his arms and crush it against his breast. But the time for this was not yet. He must first carry out one of the most daring plans ever conceived by man to elope with an unwilling beauty and make her his by sheer force of fraud and impudence.