There was not a word spoken as, in the midnight darkness of the
storm, the horses struggled along until, under the shelter of the
high houses, the carriage stopped before the desolate-looking old
mansion.

There was a look of terror on Madame Raffoni's face which was not
lost upon Clayton. "Get the door open," he hoarsely cried. "I will
carry her in. Then, I swear to you, I will leave her at once."

The strong man sprang from his place, and in a few moments he stood
within the veiled splendors of the old drawing-room.

Kneeling by the bed, wherein he had deposited the senseless woman,
Clayton chafed her marble hands in an agony of despair.

But, even in his lover's exaltation, he listened to Madame Raffoni,
who knelt before him in passionate adjuration. "Go, go!" she cried
in broken pathos. "I will come to you to-morrow."

And she dragged him to the door. "I will all do; everything! I
swear! Yes! Yes!! Yes!!!"

With one last despairing look, raining passionate kisses upon the
marble lips of the woman he loved, Randall Clayton left the dusky
magnificence of the superb apartment, and only halted at the door
long enough to whisper to the Raffoni, "Bring me to her to-morrow,
and I will make you rich!"

And the poor woman dumbly covered his hands with obedient kisses.