here for a moment," he said, and, leaving her, he stole into the library. With an eye upon the sleeping figure, he knelt before the safe and turned the knob. It opened noiselessly; and the sight of the close-packed cash-drawer filled him with a tremendous merriment. It was exhilarating, it was God-like to be endowed with the power of restitution and retribution. He greatly enjoyed the feel of the crisp new bank-notes as he emptied the compartment and assembled the packages into a bundle. He was amazed at the amount represented. There must have been twenty thousand dollars, all in those smooth, unsoiled ten-dollar bills. Evidently the old miser preferred lock and key to a banker's vagaries. Naughty Alfred, to rob widows and orphans! Well, he had been warned of the danger of robbery. Van Dam predicted apoplexy for the owner when he discovered his loss.
The girl was waiting where he had left her, but when she discovered the nature of the gift he bore, she drew back in amazement.
"Come! Come!" he said. "It belongs to you and—Félice."
"But—Mon Dieu!"
"I have prospered. A lucky speculation—a gift from the gods, as it were! You need have no hesitation in accepting it, for it is yours. And no one can take it from you, not even Cousin Alfred."
She was still protesting, when they heard the mother call.
"This money—another miracle!" Madelon exclaimed. "It is wonderful! I feel that I am dreaming. But come! We have overstayed; we may be discovered at any moment."
He took her in his arms again and whispered his adoration. "I am coming to find you, Madelon. I have the power to work miracles, you see."
"No, no! If you care for me, you must guard yourself. Perhaps after many years—perhaps when you have shown yourself worthy, and the world has forgotten—then—" She shivered at thought of the weary wait ahead of her; her lips quivered pathetically.
There were many things he wished to ask her; the hunger to retain her in his arms was almost unbearable. But now that she had been reawakened to the perils of their situation she allowed him no opportunity. She tore her lips reluctantly from his; she held him off in an agony of pleading, and when the mother's voice sounded a second time they returned hand in hand to the study.
There followed a touching farewell as the blind woman clung shakingly to the gentle impostor, praying for his safety, imploring him piteously to be a good man and to walk in the shadow of righteousness. Then came a lingering, heart-breaking caress, and once more the three were at the front door.
Van Dam seized the girl's fingers and kissed them, while the look in his eyes brought tears to hers. Then they were gone; and he stood alone in the hall of the house he had robbed.
He remained motionless for a time, lost in a blissful intoxication. Was this strange, new-born delirium—love? It must be, it could be, nothing else. It was quite amazing, utterly bewildering. He had never dreamed of anything at all like it. He felt a desire to cry aloud the news of this marvel; he was melting with pain and gladness; something inside him was singing gloriously. At thought of Madelon's deep, wide eyes, of her tender lips, dewy with the birth of passion, his muscles swelled and the whole world seemed to applaud. But it was so new—so unbelievable! The swift rush of this afternoon's events had left him in a dizzy whirl. An hour ago he had been deaf, dumb, and blind, but he had suddenly regained his every sense. He was no longer blasé; he was awake with yearnings and appreciations. Madelon had taught him the greatest secret of the universe. Madelon—But who the devil was Madelon?
Van Dam brought himself abruptly out of his reverie. There had been enough mystery for one day. Now for the solution of this puzzle. Back yonder, gagged and bound, was a cringing human rat who knew everything Van Dam desired to know, and who would talk, if forced to do so. Roly decided to have the inmost details of this affair, if it became necessary to roast the soles of Cousin Alfred's feet over a slow fire in order to loosen his tongue. Time had flown, but there was a little margin left.
He hurried down the hall, flung open the door behind which his captive lay, then recoiled, with mouth agape. The closet was empty!
"Alfred!" he called. "Alfred!" But his voice echoed lonesomely through the empty rooms. Not a sound broke the silence. There on the floor lay the handkerchief and the two tasseled curtain cords. He felt a chill of apprehension, for unseen eyes were observing him, he was certain. With that vindictive little ruffian at large, the situation altered; each door might hide a menace, each moment add to his peril.
The thought of that rifled safe, and the consequences of discovery, convinced Van Dam that this was no place for a respectable New York society man, so he clapped on his mask and darted down the hall toward the rear of the house.
Past the pantry and into the kitchen he fled, his precipitate haste nearly causing him to collide with another masked figure that had just entered from the garden. Instinctively the two men recoiled. Van Dam saw that the stranger wore a black domino like his own, and that a white gardenia was pinned over his heart—it was a twin to the flower that reposed upon his own breast.
"Emile!" he exclaimed.
With a start the new-comer swept his mask downward, and simultaneously he conjured an automatic revolver from some place of concealment. The face that he exposed was not pleasant to look upon, for it was coarsened by dissipation, and the eyes were both violent and furtive. Underneath his heavy, passionate features, however, lay a marked resemblance to the blind mother who had just left.
"Yes. I am Emile," he panted; then, with a snarl, he raised his weapon until it bore upon Van Dam's breast. "And you are one of the gang, eh?"
"Here! Don't point that confounded thing at me. It might go off." Roly brushed the mask from his own face, explaining, "I'm not one of the gang; I'm a friend."
Emile eyed him intently before lowering his weapon. "I never saw you before."
"Of course not. But—come. We've both got to get out of here."
"Indeed! I came to see my cousin Alfred. It is a little call I promised him."
"I know everything; and, believe me, you have no time to lose."
"How do you come to know so much?" demanded Emile, suspiciously. "And what is that?" With the muzzle of his weapon he indicated the waxen white flower upon Roly's domino.
"There's no time to explain everything—but I know why you are here. The old man has gone—"
"Gone! Bah! That is a lie. I have followed him all through the city. I've been to his office, and they told me he was here. I've a little matter to settle with him. It will only take a moment."
"I tell you he's gone."
"Who the devil are you, anyhow? I have no friends."
"I am Madelon's fiancé," Van Dam said, boldly.
"Another lie! She has no fiancé." The speaker's face darkened. "If she marries any one, it shall be me."
An unfamiliar pang smote Van Dam suddenly, but he disregarded it.
"Don't be a fool," he insisted. "I know why you came here, but you're too late. Your mother and Madelon were here, too, a moment ago—"
"Here?" exclaimed the youth, incredulously.
"Yes! Alfred heard you were in the city and he planned to ambush you; I tied him up and threw him into a closet. Then I robbed his safe and gave the money to Madelon and your mother."
Emile's face was a study at this amazing intelligence.
"When I came to look for the old fellow, a moment ago, I found he'd escaped. I don't know where he has gone. That's why we'd better cut and run for it, before he sets up an alarm."
"Run!" Emile shook his head. "I have been running—with the Black Wolf at my heels. I thought they had me cornered more than once. They're after me now, the whole pack."
"Do they know you're here?"
"I dare say; they were right behind me." He cursed violently. "And