“O papa, papa! don’t tantalize me.  You cannot belittle this struggle or its consequences.  Our enemies are at our very doors, and they are not soldiers.  I would rather face scalping Indians than the wretches that I saw an hour since.  If Merwyn will do a man’s part to quell this mob I shall feel honored by his friendship.  But he never will forgive me, never, never.”

“We’ll see about that,” was Mr. Vosburgh’s smiling reply.  Then his face became grave, and he said:  “You are right, Marian.  The ruffians who filled the streets to-day, and who even now are plundering and burning in different parts of the city, are not soldiers.  They are as brutal as they are unscrupulous and merciless.  I can only tell you what has occurred in brief outline, for the moment I am a little rested and have satisfied hunger I must be at work.”

He then rapidly narrated how Merwyn had been brought in at police headquarters with one of the leaders of the riot whom he had beguiled and helped to capture.  A graphic account of the battle followed, closing with the fact that he had left the “coward” marching up Broadway to engage in another fight.

The girl listened with pale cheeks and drooping head.

“He will never forgive me,” she murmured; “I’ve wronged him too deeply.”

“Be ready to give him a generous cup of coffee and a good supper,” her father replied.  “Men are animals, even when heroes, and Merwyn will be in a condition to bless the hand that feeds him to-night.  Now I must carry out my plans with despatch.  Oh, there is the rain.  Good.  Torrents, thunder, and lightning will keep away more dangerous elements.  Although I have but a slight acquaintance with the Erkmanns, whose yard abuts upon ours, I hope, before the evening is over, to have a door cut in the fence between us, and a wire stretched from our rear windows to theirs.  It will be for our mutual safety.  If attacked we can escape through their house or they through ours.  I’ll put on my rubber suit and shall not be gone long now at any one time.  You can admit Merwyn or any of my agents who give the password.  Keep plenty of coffee and your own courage at boiling-point.  You will next hear from me at our back door.”

In less than half an hour she again admitted her father, who said:  “It’s all arranged.  I have removed a couple of boards so that they can be replaced by any one who passes through the opening.  I have some fine wire which I will now stretch from my library to Mr. Erkmann’s sleeping-apartment.”

When he again entered the house two of his agents whom Marian had admitted were present, dripping wet, hungry, and weary.  They had come under cover of the storm and darkness.  While they gave their reports Mr. Vosburgh made them take a hearty supper, and Marian waited on them with a grace that doubled their incentive to serve their chief.  But more than once she sighed, “Merwyn does not come.”

Then the thought flashed upon her:  “Perhaps he cannot come.  He may be battered and dying in the muddy streets.”