“Ah!” sighed she, falling back a step, “what do you mean?”

“Why, I mean,” said M’Ginnis, twisting the neckerchief in his powerful hands much as if it had been the neck of some enemy, “I mean as this guy as comes here bluffin’ about bein’ down an’ out, this guy as plays at sellin’ peanuts is—­Geoffrey Ravenslee, the millionaire.”

“But—­he is—­Arthur’s friend!”

“Friend—­nothin’!” said he, wringing and wrenching at the neckerchief, “I guess you ain’t found out how th’ Kid an’ him came t’ meet, eh?  Well, I’ll tell ye—­listen!  Your brother broke in to this millionaire’s swell house—­through the winder—­an’ this millionaire caught him.”

“Oh,” said she, smiling in bitter scorn, “what a clumsy liar you are, Bud M’Ginnis!”

“No,” he cried eagerly, “no, I ain’t tellin’ ye no lies; it’s God’s own truth I’m givin’ ye.”

“No, you’re just a liar, Bud M’Ginnis!” and she would have turned from him, but his savage grip stayed her.

“A liar, am I?” he cried.  “Why, then, you’re sister to a crook, see!  Your brother’s a thief! a crook!  You ain’t got much t’ be s’ proud over—­”

“Let me go!”

“Listen!  Your brother got into this guy’s house t’ steal, and this millionaire guy caught him—­in the act!  An’ havin’ nothin’ better t’ do, he makes young Spike bring him down here—­just t’ see th’ kind o’ folks as lives in Hell’s Kitchen, see?  Then he meets you—­you look kind o’ good t’ him, so he says t’ th’ Kid, ‘Look here,’ he says, ’you help me game along with y’r sister, an’ we’ll call it quits—­’”

Breaking from his hold, Hermione entered the little parlour, and sinking down beside the table, crouched there, hiding her face, while M’Ginnis, leaning in the doorway, watched her, his strong hands twisting and wrenching at the neckerchief.

“Ah, leave me now!” she pleaded, “you’ve done enough, so—­go now—­go!”

“Oh, I’ll go.  I come here t’ put ye wise—­an’ I have!  You’re on to it all now, I guess.  Nooport and Fifth Av’ner’s a good ways from Hell’s Kitchen and Tenth Av’ner, an’ they can’t never come together.  I guess there’s sure some difference between this swell guy with all his millions an’ a Tenth Av’ner girl as is a—­thief’s sister—­”

Slowly Hermione lifted her head and looked up at him, and M’Ginnis saw that in her face which struck him mute; the neckerchief fell from his nerveless fingers and lay there all unheeded.

“Hermione,” he muttered, “I—­girl, are ye—­sick?”

“Go!” she whispered, “go!”

And turning about, M’Ginnis stumbled out of the place and left her alone.  For a long time she sat there, motionless and crouched above the table, staring blindly before her, and in her eyes an agony beyond tears, heedless of the flight of time, conscious only of a pain sharper than flesh can know.  Suddenly a key was thrust in the lock of the outer door, footsteps sounded along the passage accompanied by a merry whistling, and Spike appeared.