“What about the girl?”

“Oh; she’s all right,” replied Philip, with a drunken chuckle.  “I had an interview with the dear creature this morning, and she’s like wax in my hands.  It’s all arranged for to-morrow morning.  You be sure to have the carriage ready at the Park—­the same spot, you know—­by ten o’clock.  She can’t well get away before, but that will be time enough for the train.”

“I want that money now.”

“Moll’s hard up, but I got a couple of hundred from her.  Here’s fifty for you; now don’t grumble, I’m doing the best I can, d—­n you, and you know it.  Now listen—­I want to fix things with you about that blue-eyed chap.”

The waiter here brought in Arthur’s order, and a sudden silence ensued in the alcove.  The two men had evidently been unaware of the proximity of a third party, and their tone, though low, had not been sufficiently guarded to escape Arthur hearing, whose ear, leaning against the thin partition, was within a few inches of Philip’s head.  A muttered curse and the gurgling of liquor from a decanter was all that could be heard for the space of a few-moments, when the two, after a brief whisper, arose and left the place, not, however, without making ineffectual efforts to catch a glimpse of the occupant of the tenanted alcove.  Arthur soon after followed them into the street.  He was aware that he was watched from the opposite corner, and that his steps were dogged in the darkness.  But he drew his felt hat well over his face, and by mingling with the crowd that chanced to be pouring from one of the theatres, he avoided recognition and passed unnoticed into his hotel.

CHAPTER XIV.

Arthur felt ill and much fatigued when he retired to rest, and was restless and disturbed with fever throughout the night.  He had overtasked his delicate frame, yet scarce recovered from the effects of recent suffering, and he arose in the morning with a feeling of prostration that he could with difficulty overcome.  However, he refreshed himself with a cup of tea, and prepared to call upon Miss Ayleff.  It was but seven o’clock, a somewhat early hour for a morning visit, but the occasion was one for little ceremony.  As he was on the point of leaving his room, there was a peremptory knock at the door, and, upon his invitation to walk in, a stranger entered.  It was a gentlemanly personage, with a searching eye and a calm and quiet manner.  Arthur was vexed to be delayed, but received the intruder with a civil inclination of the head, somewhat surprised, however, that no card had been sent to give him intimation of the visit.

“Are you Mr. Arthur Wayne?” inquired the stranger.

“I am he,” replied Arthur.  “Be seated, sir.”

“I thank you.  My name is ——.  I am a deputy United States marshal of this district.”

Arthur bowed, and awaited a further statement of the purpose of his visit.