"Suppose," she went on, "I offer you the chance and do not speak, if you
will go--immediately?"

"I can't," he answered.

Her brows bent; her little hand seemed to clench. But he stood without
looking at her, appearing absorbed in a tiny bit of cloud in the sky.

"Very well!" she said, a dangerous glint in her eyes.

He looked quite insignificant at the moment; she was far above him; his
clothes were threadbare, the way thieves' clothes, or pickpockets',
usually are.

"If you expect any mercy from me--" she began.

But she did not finish; a figure, approaching, caught her eye--the
handsome stalwart figure of a man; whose features lighted at sight of
her.

"Ah, Miss Dalrymple!"

Her face changed. "An unexpected pleasure, Prince," she said with
almost an excess of gaiety.

He answered in kind; she came down the steps quickly, offering him her
hand. And as he gallantly raised the small perfumed fingers to his lips,
Mr. Heatherbloom seemed to fade away into the dark subterranean
entrance.