"Good night, Philip."

"Oh, good night--there, get along," he cried, impatiently, without
looking at her, and gulping down a tumblerful of spirits. Miranda closed
the door and left the two men alone together.

They remained silent for a while, Bradshaw quietly sipping his liquor,
and Philip evidently disturbed and angry.

"You're sure 'twas she?" he asked at last.

"Oh, bother!" replied Bradshaw. "I'm not a mole nor a blind man. Don't I
know Moll when I see her?"

"Curse her! she'll stick to me like a leech. What could have brought her
here? Do you think she's tracked me?"

"She'd track you through fire, if she once got on the scent. Moll ain't
the gal to be fooled, and you know it."

"What's to be done?"

"Move out of this. Take the girl to Virginia. You'll be safe enough
there."

"You're right, Bradshaw. It's the best way. I ought to have done it at
first. But, hang the girl, she'll weary me to death with her sermons and
crying fits. Moll's worth two of her for that, matter--she scolds, but
at least she never would look like a stuck fawn when I came home a