"No matter what she tells, it cannot alter my lady's fate. My bride or the bride of death, she shall be ere tomorrow's dawn! I am desperate with suspense and thwarted love. Life without that girl can no longer be borne. We must live together or die together, as she wills to-day!" His eyes gleamed with something almost like madness, but the woman did not try to dissuade him from the terrible purpose he had expressed. She knew from the experience of long months how futile she would find such an effort. When beautiful Precious, in her rustling silks and laces, bent over the sick girl with compassionate eyes, Hetty started in surprise and horror, muttering feebly: "Is that you, Miss Precious, or am I dreaming? This morphine they give me makes me have strange dreams sometimes." "Poor Hetty!" and the soft little hand brushed the straggling locks from the fevered brow. "Yes, it is Precious. My sister was ill, and could not come to see you, as she promised, so she sent me to bring you some money for wine and dainties," and Precious poured the little shower of golden coin out upon the thin counterpane. Hetty's big hollow eyes dilated wildly, and she gasped: "There's some mistake. Miss Ethel didn't promise to come here. I haven't seen or heard of her since the time I went to her and she gave me money. Oh, Miss Precious, everything ain't right about this! You've been fooled into coming here, you sweet lamb, and Lindsey Warwick must be at the bottom of it. Oh, the fiend! How dare he do it? You're in deadly peril, poor child, and you must go away at once, if you can. There! run down the steps, get away from this vile place as fast as you can!" Precious flew to do her bidding, but she found the door locked against her. Ghastly pale and trembling, she sank into the chair beside Hetty. "You are right. I'm trapped, for the door is already locked!" she gasped; then exclaimed: "Oh, Hetty, Hetty, is it true? Is Lindsey Warwick here?"