There were pen and paper on the table, and he wrote a few lines hastily,
placed them in the envelope, and put Beverly's letter in his pocket. He
had hardly finished when Arthur reëntered the room, advanced rapidly to
the table, and, with a look of relief, took up the envelope and its
contents, and again left the room. Philip's lip curled beneath the black
moustache with a smile of triumphant malice.

"Keep it safe in your pocket for a few hours, my gamecock, and my
heiress to a beggar-girl, I'll have stone walls between you and me."




CHAPTER XII.


The evening was somewhat advanced, but Arthur determined at once to seek
an interview with Miss Ayleff. Hastily arranging his toilet, he walked
briskly up Broadway, revolving in his mind a fit course for fulfilling
his delicate errand.

To shorten his way, he turned into a cross street in the upper part of
the city. As he approached the hall door of a large brick house, his eye
chanced to fall upon a man who was ringing for admittance. The light
from the street lamp fell full upon his face, and he recognized the
features of Philip Searle. At that moment the door was opened, and
Philip entered. Arthur would have passed on, but something in the
appearance of the house arrested his attention, and, on closer scrutiny,
revealed to him its character. One of those impulses which sometimes