OUT OF THE STORM; Or, GRACE WRAY'S TRIALS.

BY MAJOR ALFORD ROOnEKORT.

CHAPTER X. THE OLD MAN AND THE BKACTIFI7L GIRL DRIFT INTO A STRANGE HAVEN. It was freezing keenly, and the sidewalks of the main thoroughfares were covered with snow, beaten into ice by the tramping of many feet. It was the first time George Wray had been out of the house since the snow, and his lameness made his footing so insecure that hejiterally walked in fear and trembling. "Ah, Grace," he sighed, as he stopped in the middle of the street, leaning on his staff and looking about him in the dazed way pe culiar to people with weak eyes who sud denly find themselves in a trying light, "one year ago I could have walked up a mountain of ice and carried you on my back in safety, but now I am as weak as a nervous old woman, and far more useless." " You'll be strong enough in time, Uncle George ; don't fear for that." "1 fear not," he sighed. " Yes, you will. Now lean one hand on your staff and the other on my shoulder, and we will walk in the middle of the street, where it is not so slippery," "But wait, Grace, my child. Before we go further let us think of the direction we should take," he said, restraining her with the hand on her shoulder. " We must leave Brooklyn, uncle." " Yes, Grace, we must leave Brooklyn ; but where then?" "To New York." " But is not that getting nearer to the danger?" "No, uncle ; even if we were criminals, Seeing from justice, the larger and busier the city we went to the better it would be as a hiding-place." _ " You are my guide, Grace : do as you .Wll.'" he said, with a sigh of resignation. Slowly they walked down to the ferry house ;it the foot of Atlantic Avenue, and as they just missed a boat they had to sit for twenty minutes in the cold and gloom waiting for another. Grace looked at the clockabove the ticket taker's oifice a hundred times before the next boat came puffing and groaning through tho ice that filled the slip. They had the cabin to themselves, for at this ferry there is but little travel after mid night, and on Christmas Eve it may be said there is none, for who would want to cross the black, gloomy river, with its cutting winds and its groaning ice, when warm fires or comfortable beds bade them stay at home ? On the New York side they found the last stage for the night going up Broadway, and they got in. " Which way are we going now, Grace ?' asked her uncle, as the stage rattled up the' deserted street, where, in the daytime, the currents of trade and busy humanity surge and roar like another Niagara. "We shall get out near Twenty-third street, and ask some policeman to direct us," 3he replied. " Where to!" "To a cheap lodging-house." "That will never do. my child." "Why not?" "Wo must avoid the police." " But why should we ?" "They will suspect us. If we speak to them they will ask where we have come from, and why we left there; then what can we tell them?" "Why should they do so 5 It is their duty to direct poople who want in formation, not to ask questions," said Grace, whose ideas of a policeman's duties—real and as sumed—Were of the vaguest character. " Ah, but they will inquire. No, we must keep on till we can find some cheap hotel, west of Madison Square ; there wore many hotels there when I was younger." " And were they nice hotels, Uncle George?" "I won't say as to that; I did not then need hotels, good or bad." To avoid the glare of the electric lights on the Square, they got out before reaching there, and walked hurriedly up tho east side. The intense light blinded Georgo Wray, and clinging closer to Grace, he whispered : " I cannot see at all, my child: I must depend on your eyes." "Trust me, uncle," washer answer. As they crossed Fifth Avenue and Broadway they fount! sidewalks that were warm and dry, and Grace saw many policemen standing in the protection of doorways, for the night was bitter cold, and swinging their locust clubs by way of keep ing their blood in circulation. These policemen looked after the crippled blind man and the beautiful girl who guided him with a curiosity that was move than pro fessional. One officer thought it his duty to follow them for a block, but his investigation led him no further. Out of the blazing Square, with its pala tial structures, they hurried in the direction of the North River. After rambling on for nearly half-an-hour, Grace chanced to look down a side street, and her attention was attracted by a lamp in the shape of a barrel with coloured glass staves. She turned into the street and walked on till she came in front of the illuminated barrel, on the street end of which she read this legend, aloud: bauer'.s hotel. board and lodging. Bier und IVein. "What does the building look like, Grace?" asked George Wray, trying to see for himself by shading his eye with his arm. " A red brick building, two stories and a mansard roof. Before the door there is a painted board formed into the shape of a goat that is holding a foaming mug of beer between his front hoofs," replied Grace. "From the name and the sign," said George Wray, slowly, "I shoul d infer that the place was kept by a German for Ger mans. My brother and —that is, I spent two years at school in Germany when I was a boy, and I got to like the language and the people very much. It is very cold, my child." "Shall we go in?" " Yes !we can try, and if they doubt our ability to pay, you can show them we have som© money." They crossed the street, and descending two steps, the ice on which was covered with sawdust, Grace pushed open a swing ing door and they entered a low room. In the middle of this room was a high, hot stove with a white corpulent bod}', and around it were a lot of little tables, about which a number of men sat drinking beei and stronger potions. A very stout man, with a bald head and a bushy mustache, stood on the opposite side .of the car wiping it off with a sloppy cloth and joining in the conversation, which the men about the tables were conducting in animated German. Whispering to Grace, "I will do the talking here, my child," George Wray

shoved he had not forgotten his German, for though lie could not wee the man behind tho bar, ho addressed him as follows iv that language : "My friend, I wish to secure board and lodgings for myself and child for a day or two. We hare but little baggage, but vre are prepared to pay in advance for what we get." " Whore did you come from at this hour of night?" asked Conrad Bauor, the land lord, as he stopped in his work of mopping the counter, while tho men about the tables set down their glasses, as if they were eager to hear the answer. "We have recently come from Cali fornia, and are strangers in the city," said George Wray, slowly, still speaking in Gorman. " Well, we don't want to take ■women here. This is a place only for men," said Conrad Bauer, as he resumed his work of mopping down the counter by way of showing that his decision was final. " Could you not direct us to some place near here where wo could be accommodated for the night ?" asked George Wray, half turning to leave. "No. I voz no zity d'reot'ry," said the man, in English. Grace was about to lead her uncle away, but a bold voice, directed to the man behind the bar, caused her to stop. "No, Conrad Bauor, you voz not no zity d'rect'ry, but you voz a big fool mit your bar. Unt I dinks I hafe somedings to say before dem two peebles goes do house out." This bold assertion came from behind a wooden screen at the further end of the room. To put to rest all doubtsas to its author— about which, by the way, Conrad Bauer seemed to be satisfied—a very stout woman, with very big earrings, and ' her light hair very flat and particularly smooth, made her way to the front of tho bar, and the man be hind it and the men about the tables hushed like schoolboys detected in a breach of discipline. With a wretched effort at asserting his au thority, Conrad Bauor muttered, as he re doubled his effort at swabbing the bar, which appeared to be in a chronic state of moisture : "We don't get no rooms nor noddin"s left." " What is dot you say, Conrad Bauer?" asked his wife, as she placed her hands on her hips and surveyed him with withering contempt. "I said," repeated Conrad, and at heart he cursed himself for having said anything at all, " dot we don't hafo got no rooms nor noddings like them kind." " No rooms nor noddings ?" repeated Mrs Bauer, with fine sarcasm, and something of a contempt in her manner for her husband's defective English. "I wants to know, ride sthraight avay, Conrad Bauer, who it voz dot dis hotel runs ?" "Veil," repeated Conrad with a shrug and a wretched attempt at* smile, " I runs de bar ; but I suppose aiz how mebbe, praps, dot you run do gasthouse—de hotel." "Oh, dot's how it voz, eh?" " Yes ; I dinks dot's 'bout de size." "Den, Conrad Bauer, you mind your piz ness byde bar, unt I'll mind my pizness by de hotel. Don't dis voz de Christmas Eve, de dime oaf de blessed Krist-Kind, eh?" " I dinks mebbe aiz how it voz, Meeny," said Conrad, with an evident wish for re conciliation. "He dinks it voz !" said Mrs Bauer, with a scornful glance at her husband, and a gesture to the men about the tables, who were evidently with her. "Do you know vot I dinks, Conrad Bauer?" she asked, suddenly turning on him, so that he started back in alarm, and gasped out: "No, Meeny. I dinks noddings now." " I dinks you have so much beer drinkt dot it has turned your heart outside in." As Conrad Bauer was far too prudent a man to deny this very personal charge, Mrs Bauer transfixed him with another glance. Then reaching out a fat hand to Grace, she said: "You voz sthrangers, eh ?" "We are, madam," replied Grace. "Unt so voz I asthranger yen I eoomt here from Sharmany, unt couldn't speak no English like now." " Then you can feel for us," said Grace. "Yes; I feel here," said Mrs Bauer, lay ng her hand on her heart, while two tear rims made her honest eyes larger. "You, mit you olt fadder, sthay by me to-night." " For him and myself I thank you." " Eef," continued Mrs Bauer, you vos not Jote strang rs, den we don't hafe no room. But come mit me, meine pretty fraulien, unt you unt de olt fadder shall hafe bed unt food unt trink. Ach, Himmel ! Voz de olt fadder lame so well as blint ?" she cried, as George Wray limped after her, leaning on Grace's shoulder. The sight of the poor man's infirmities af fected Mrs Bauer curiously. It excited her mger against her husband, who now looked quite crestfallen ; and it moved her kind ierman heart to a deeper pitj' for the strangers.' She led Grace and her uncle to a little par our in the second story, where a cheerful ire was burning in an open grate. " Your fadder shall hafe a cot by de fire, unt I hafe a leedleroom oafer derc," indica ting the place with a sweep of her arm, " where you, my chilt, can sehleep close by." "We arc very grateful," said Grace. " But you arc hungry. You don't have got noddings to eat to-night';" question lngly. Grace assured her that they had had a hearty supper. " Den you bote .sit on the schairs down, unt I goes oud unt gets fiomedings to keep do colt oud, unt to trink to do happy Christmas dime." Mrs Bauer disappeared, and soon returned with two glasses of hot spiced port wine. At first they showed some objection to drinking it, but as Mrs Bauer was positive that it was just what they wanted, and looked as if she might use force, they at length showed their appreciation of her kindness by obeying her. Aided by a maid who was only a little less stout than herself, Mrs Bauer made a cozy cot for George Wray in a warm corner. whore the heat and not the light would fall on him. Then she showed Grace a little room off the parlour, and as she kissed her on the cheek, she said : " Sehleep, meine fraulein ; no harm comes by you here. But to you unt de old fadder I wish many unt many a happy Christmas day." CHAPTER XI. RALPH THORNTON TLAYS THK PART OF A OOOD FAIRY, AND MRS SEVILLE RECEIVES A LETTER WHICH SHE DECIDES TO ANSWER IN PERSON. Ralph Thornton', owingtoa happy thouo-ht that struck him the night before, was °up before day on Christmas morning ; and the astonished driver was ready with the sleigh to take him wherever it struck his wild fancy to go. The thought that moved him ran some thing after this fashion : " I am rich ; I have spent many hundreds of dollars in buying presents for my mother, for Alice, and for others who do not really need them.

" WJmt have I done to znako happier this clay (when all should be happy) thoqe in actual want of help?" In attempting to answer this question, lie recalled, without much satisfaction, that :ie had subscribed to a number of charit able enterprises—one of them, to givo the convicts at Sing-Sing a turkey dinner that day—but those things he did to oblige those who solicited him, rather than from any purpose to do good. He recalled that Grace was not warmly clad when last he saw her on the street; and ho thought of the little grocery store where she did her marketing, and the dreary house in which she lived. "By Jove [" ho said aloud, as he. turned over in bed, "if Davis, Lent & Co.'s was open to-morrow, I'd buy a sealskin sacque and send it to her, marked, 'From a friend.' Why the deuce did't I think of that before?" As he hurriedly dressed himself by gas light—a very unusual thing for him —ho made up his mind that there are many other things more essential to comfort than seal skin sacques. "I'll hurry overtoßi-ooklyn," hethought, as he hastened downstairs, and buy that grocery man out." He stopped in the library, wrote on a slip of paper, "A Merry Christmas," folded the slip about two tifty-dollar bills, and put them in an envelope and sealed it; but he wrote no directions on the back, for he had forgotten the name. " Whore to, sur ?" asked Pat, the driver, as Ralph leaped into the sleigh. "To South Ferry. Whip up. Take the side streets where there's plenty of snow ; I want to be back before the folks are up," replied Ralph, as ho settled back and drew the robes about him, for the air was clear and keen and cold, as befits a Christmas morning. Tho fine black horses fairly steamed as they whisked the gay sleigh to South Ferry, reaching which place, Ralph sprang out and said : " I'll be back in less than an hour, Pat. Walk the horses about tho Battery Park ; it won't do to have them standing such a morning as this." "Faith, they're so surprised at bcin' out ay their warm sthalls at sich an airly hour that I could't kape the bastes sthandin'if I wanted to," said Pat. But Ralph Thornton, having darted into the ferry house, did not hear him. In the hope; of picking up a stray cus tomer who had neglected to provide, for the Christmas dinner the night before the owner of the little grocery store was up early, but it could hardly be said to be "bright," for the daylight was so uncertain that he had to use lamps to display his re maining wares by. The sight of a well-dressed, handsome young gentleman surprised the grocer ; his customers were not of this class. "A merry Christmas," said RalpK, by way of introduction. "The same to you, sir," replied the grocer. " Have you any turkeys left?" "Only one, sir." "And that must be very poor, the leav ings of your sales for the week." "No, sir, it's a fifteen-pounder, and the best of the lot. It was too good and high for the folks around here, and I've been re gretting that I bought it. Just look at it, sir," said the grocer, holding up :he bird in question. " I am no judge, so I'll take your word for it," replied Ralph, who had never done such marketing before. "It isiv't for yourself, sir ?" said the man, surveying his customer. " No, it is for a poor family, and I want you to advise me as tc the other things I should send in order to make a good Christ mas dinner." The grocer rubbed hishands witli delight, and asked • "About how much, sir, would you like to spend?" " Don't you think that fifty dollars would get up a pretty good plain dinner—that is, you know, without wines?" " Fifty dollars ! Fifty dollars !" ex claimed the grocer, "Why, bless me, I nevei' heard of such a thing !" "Oh, you can add tvrenty-five to it, if you don't think that's enough ;" and Ralph drew out his pocket-book. " That'll be too much. Better give the balance in cash ; but I'll fill the bill." The grocer did fill the bill to his own great profit and delight; and when he had heaped a great basket with the best things in his place, he asked : "Will you take it, or shall I send it? My boy is off for the day, and I doubt if I can deliver it before noon, and I guess that'll be too late." Ralph lifted the basket—an easy matter for a young giant like himself—and said : "If you can get a man to carry it, I'll pay five dollars." " Five dollars !" " That's what I said." "Then I'll close up the store and cany it myself. Where is it to ?" " I think the number is S7, Weld street." "What name ?" This question puzzled Ralph. " Let me see," he said, stroking his chin. " It is for a young lady who lives up there. Wears waterproof, and brown eyes." "Oh, you mean Miss Grace Wray." "Yes ; by Jove ! that's the name." And Ralph at once wrote it down on the back of the envelope containing the two fifty-dollar bills, and handing It to the grocer, he continued : "Give this letter also to the lady, and here's your five dollars for carrying the stuff. You say the bill is thirty-one ninety seven ?" " Yes, sir, to a cent., and it's the most expensive lot of stuff ever went into that tenement at one time." "Before I leave I have one request to make." "I'm ready to grant a dozen, sir," said the delighted grocer. " Say nothing as to who sent this." "Why, how could I toll, sir?" " I don't know, I am sure," said Ralph, pulling on his fur gloves. " But 1 don't know who you are, sir." " That's quite right; don't describe mo ; and if Miss Wray makes any inquiries, say you don't know who I am. Now hurry off, and good-day to you." Ralph' turned and hastened home ; and the grocer, in high spirits, started off with his burden of good things. He clambered up the many stairs, stop ping to rest at all the landings; and on reaching the top he found Mrs Murphy and Denny, both of whom ho knew very well, in a great Ht.ito of alarm. With tho comfortable feeling of a man who has done a good act and proposes to keep the knowledge of it to himself, Ralph Thornton sat down to breakfast that morn ing. He had made Mrs Seville a present of a pair of magnificent solitaire diamond ear rings, and she showed her appreciation of the princely gift by wearing them to tho table; she also wore a rich ring which Ralph had given her a week before to seal their engagement. Beyond being the least bit too full in form (and to some this would be an additional charm), Mrs Seville was a very fine-look ing woman, and this beautiful Christmas morning she looked more fascinating than usual.

She fairly beamed on hor handsome young lover, and her fathomless eyes expressed the joyous pride of a woman who has gained the one object on which her heart was set. Mrs Thornton—good, gentle, old lady— presided at the head of the board, and she often oast affectionate glances at her pro spective daughter-in-law, and called her " Alice " and " my daughter," as if she in truth held the place in hor heart implied by the latter term. During breakfast Ralph said : " Alice, before dinner I will take you and mother out to the park for a sleigh ride." " Oh, that will be glorious ! exclaimed Mrs Seville, clapping her hands and shak ing her head till the diamonds flashed again. She told them, and they believed her, that she was born in California and never had been East at this season before, so it was quite proper for her to add : " This is my first Christmas where there is snow, and a sleigh ride on Christmas day will be perfect, just perfect !" "Rounding up with the opera tonight," laughed Kalph. " Yes, Kalph ; andsomohow 1 feel that it is you who havo arranged all the good thiugsto delight me and make me feel that lam living in fairyland." And unable to express her feelings in words, she came be hind his chair and kissed him. The kiss that would have thrilled him a week ago now made him shudder, and the white arms about his neck felt like an iron yoke from which there was no release with honour.and to him that meant no release till death. After breakfast they adjourned to the drawing-room, and they had just reached there when a servant came in, and said as he handed Mrs Seville a note : " It was just left at the door, ma'am, and the person said as how you'd answer in yer own way, and then ran off." Alice Seville was standing behind Ralph when she took the note, so that he could not see the deathly pallor that overspread her face, though it was gono in an instant. "The idea !" she said, after opening the note and glancing at it. "One of my Cali fornia attorneys sends a request to know when he can see me. As he has just reached the city, I think he might wait till to-mor row." Ralph could not help thinking, at that moment, that she should have handed the note to him instead of pushing it viciously into her pocket. He had an idea, and it was a true one, that there should be no secret between people occupying such relations; but he reasoned that the customs in California were different from those held to be correct in New York. With perfect composure and a cheerful ness of manner that Mas wonderful under the circumstances, Mrs Seville sat down and talked with Ralph and his mother for fully an hour, after which she went to her room with a smile on her face and an awful an xiety at her heart. Once in the room, she carefully looked the door, and standing before a mirror as if anxious to see how she bore up, she raised herhands, and withan exclamation that soun ded like an oath, she hissed out: "Monckton Seville alive! Oh, God! Oh, God !" She again took the note from her pocket, and after hastily glancing over the introduc tion, she read aloud : "Only an awful, a life-and-death neces sity for money forces me to discover myself. " You have long thought me in the grave, but, instead, to your great sorrow, I am alive and quite as well as any man can be who finds himself in the great city of New York without money and without friends. "I can appreciate your amazement. Yes, your horror, as you read this, and I am well aware that you would rather pay money to some one 'to kill me than to give it to me to sustain life. But this is neither here nor there. "I must see you to-morrow, and you must come prepared to give me the money I need. " My business—l am in the same old line, Alice—needs five thousand dollars to begin with, for last night ray bank was broke, and you know the man who did it. " I know your game with my cousin, Ralph Thornton, and you may marry him for all I care, provided you keep the bank going. ",Make the hour at above address, to suit yourself, but bear in mind I am in no mood to be trifled with." She struck a match, and lighting the lower end of the note, she held it till it burned up, and then she threw the spark flecked ashes on the grate. She sat down, and after looking at the fire for some time, she muttered : "There is nothing left but to see him, I suppose. In the meantime lam in torture. I cannot be sate while that man lives. He must be put out of the way, and for ever. And now to act my part. So far it has been easy : but why should I despair when I have ever been equal to all the emergencies that arose 1" Coming to this conclusion, she rang for her French maid, and when that airish young person came in, Alice Seville was quite herself again. CHAPTER XII. HOW MANY PEOPLE CONSIDERED THE FLIGHT OK ft RACE AND HKR UNCLE. " Faith, they do seem shleopin' a bit late this blessed "Christmas mornin'," said Mrs Murphy to Denny. " An' be the same token that's sthrange, for Misther Wray do be the airliest wan up ay any wan in the house." While Mrs Murphy was speaking, Denny, who had finished his breakfast, and was feel ing particularly happy at the thought of not having to go to the coal-yard that morn ing, chanced to look at the floor near where his mother was standing, and saw Grace's note. He handed it to her, but on the plea that her eyes "wasn't near as good for readin' as they used to be," Mrs Murphy, with a strange foreboding that something dreadful was going to happen, asked Denny to read it. Denny opened the note, and as the six dollars fell out and fluttered to the floor, the first belief of both was that some kind friend had made them a most acceptable Christmas present ; but they were soon un deceived. Denny read slowly read : "My Dear Mrs Murphy—l cannot ex plain to you why Uncle George and myself are forced to fly. It is for no wrong wo have done. " I enclose six dollars, the amount of tho new tenant's rent. " I leave all our furniture in your charge till we meet again. And if that should never be, then keep the things as a slight token of our keen appreciation of your kindness to us. Care for my bird. " That God may bless you and your generous manly son, is the prayer of " Your friend, Grace Wray." Waiting till Denny had finished the read ing, Mrs Murphy, with a cry of ajarm, ran to the larger of tho two rooms recently occupied by Grace and her uncle, and try ing the door, she found it unlocked and went in. The fire was out, and the canary bird chirped, sis if anxious to know what the pro longed cold and dai-knoss meant. Snatching the cage in her arms, as if the

bird were a lost child she had just found, Mrs Murphy gave way to her tears. At this juncture the grocer entered the room, and setting down his heavy-load, he gasped out: " This stuff and this letter was sent from my place by a handsome young gent that wouldn't leave his name. O, lor', I'm out of breath, but there's no one in the store, and I must be off. Tell Miss Wray I'll cull for the basket again." Denny tried to arrest the torrent of the grocer's speech, buthe found himself tongue tied. Mrs Murphy set down the cage and was about to explain, but the grocer turned and darted down the stairs, unmindful of their cries. This stirring incident brought no light to Mrs Murphy ; indeed it rather served to. deepen the mystery that surrounded her. " Look at the letter, Denny," said Mrs Murphy, pointing to the envelope on top of the basket. "Maybe that'll tell us some thing about them." Without any thought of impropriety, Denny tore open the envelope and brought to light two fifty-dollar bills and a scrap of paper on which was written the words, " A Merry Christmas." This did not tend to lessen their perplex ity. Simple-minded folk, the current of their lives hud boon running on so lowly and smoothly that they wore not fitted to reason in such an emergency. Taking the basket and the money with them, Mrs Murphy and her son locked the door and went to their own warm room to discuss the situation. The more they tried to understand it, the move muddled they became. They were deep in perplexities when the shadow of Peter Monks fell on the floor. Denny had never seen the man before, but Mrs Murphy had, and she was not pre possessed. " A merry Cnristmas, madam," said Peter Monks, touching his hat in a way intended to be very gallant. Denny muttered something in reply, and Mrs Murphy, with a scowl on her big, honest face, sternly and silently surveyed the intruder. " Your neighbour, Mr Wray, does not seem to be in," said Peter Monks, puzzled, but not at all abashed by the coolness of his reception. "Ay coorse lie isn't in," snapped Mrs Murphy, who had a dim notion that this man was in some way responsible for the flight of her neighbours. " Is his niece in ?" asked Monks. "No, she's not, sir," with another snap. " Can you tell me when they left';'' " I can't." " Know where they've gone ?" "No, I don't," " Nor when they'll be back ?" "No." " Or if they are coming back at nil ?" "No." " But I rented two rooms from Mr Wray, and as I paid for them in advance and Mr Wray gets his rooms from you, I should think you'll show a desire to give me the information I ask for," said Monks, nettled by the woman's manner. "I know you rinted the rooms, an' there's yer dirty six dollars for ye," said Mrs Mur phy, throwing the money at his feet. Coolly picking up and counting the money before putting it into his pocket, Monks said : " Then I am not to have the rooms?" "Thedivil a foot ay 'em," replied Mrs Murphy, in high wrath. " Why," he protested, "this is the most extraordinary conduct—" "Thin go down to the sthreet with it," cried Mis M urphy. "We don't want to see the black face ay the loikes ay you a cotnin' round where honest people is." " But, madam," said Monks, with a lump in his throat, for he feared she might have learned something about him, "you do not know whom I am." "No; an'what's more, I don't want to know ye." she retorted. And as she bogan rolling up her sleeves in a demonstrative way, and Tier son was looking black as a thunder-cloud, Monks very prudently hastened down to the street. He made his way at once to his own " club," where he found the messenger he had sent to"Mr.s Seville awaiting him. " You delivered the note, Sam ?" asked Monks. " Yes, sir." " To whom?" " To n servant." "Mint did you say?" " I told the servant to tell Mrs Seville she might answer in her own way," replied the man. "Good. Here's a dollar for you. It is lucky money, for I found it this morning. Go take a drink to my success." Peter Monks wont to his own room, and he had not been there many minutes when Tom Pegg came in in a great state of ex citement. "A merry Christmas, Tom," said Monks. Without heeding this salutation, Pegg threw his hat on the table and himself into a chair, and shot out an oath. " Why, what's up, Tom ?" asked Monks, who was never surprised at anything the fellow did. " I have news—startling news !" ex claimed Pegg. "Htartling news, eh !" "Yes; the most startling you ever heard." " Then let us have it." "You couldn't guess, not if you wove to keep steady at work guessing for a million years." " I don't propose to guess for the millionth part of a second." " Grace Wray and her father have left the old place.'™ '■ You mean her uncle?" "No; the old fellow's her father," said Pegg. positively. " Well, have it your own way. Her father, then. ■ But how do you know they have left ?" " Because I know where they are now, and how they got there.,' " The deuce you do !" "Yes, I do." " Well, where are they?" "At Bauer's Hotel, round on Shippen Place. Reached there last night about twelve, and said they had just come from California." "You amaze me." " But I'm telling the honest truth." "It's that, that surprises mo. How did you learn this ?" " Funniest way in the world. One of our porters boards at Bauer's Hotel. He was in the bar last night, and ho recognised the girl when she came in with the old man. A half hour ago the porter met me in the street, and told me the whole story just as lam giving it to you. Now what do you think of all this?" "Oh, I knew it before," laughed Monks. And he told of his visit to Brooklyn. " But what do you think of it ? Isn't it extraordinary '!" " Very." " We'll have to change our plans." " Not at all, Tom." "But why not?" "I can't see why the girl should run away," said Monks. "But so far as you are concerned, she has jumped out of the frying-pan into the fire." (To be contlmied)

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STAR SAT*7RI>AY SUPP LAMENT, SEPTEMBER 15, 1883.