in the dimly-lighted second story. It was the turning point of his
career.

There was the rapid rustle of silk, the patter of gliding feet,
a warm, trembling hand seized his own, and in the darkness of a
window recess he was aware that he was suddenly made the prize of
the fair corsair ci la Houbigant. "Quick, quick, tell me! Do you
go with him?" the strange enchantress said, in excited tones, using
the English tongue as if to the manner born.

"Madame! I hardly understand," cautiously said the astounded Major.

"I want you to help me! You must help me! I must see him! I must
find out all." The sound of a servant's steps arrested her incoherent
remarks. "Wait here!" the excited woman whispered, as she walked
back down the hall. There was a whispered colloquy, and Alan Hawke
caught the gleam of the silver neck chain of the maitre d'hotel.
The sound of an opening door was heard, and, in a few moments the
flying Camilla returned to her hidden prey.

"Tell me truly," she panted, "what will you do with him? He wishes
me to ride with him; my answer depends on you. You are in trouble;
I can see it in your haggard eyes. Help me now, and--and I will
help you!" And then Alan Hawke spoke truly to the waif of Destiny,
whom chance had thrown in his way.

"I only wish to play with him for a couple of hours; if luck turns
my way, that will be time enough!"

"Ah! you would have money! Let him go away in peace! Help me