"
"Who?"
Miriam looked at him curiously.
"Doctor Guy Oleander, or--you!"
"Ah, you jest, madame!" haughtily.
"I do not. She was mistaken, it appears, but she really thought it might
be you. To make sure, she found means of communicating with this strange
man, and a meeting was appointed for last night, ten o'clock, corner of
Broadway and Fourteenth Street".
"Yes! Well?"
"Mollie went, still thinking--perhaps I should say hoping--it might be
you, Mr. Ingelow: and I, too, was there."
"Well?"
"Mollie did not see me. I hovered aloof. It was only half past nine when
she came--half an hour too early--but already a carriage was waiting,
and a man, disguised in hat and cloak and flowing beard, stepped forward
and accosted her at once. What he said to her I don't know, but he
persuaded her, evidently with reluctance, to enter the carriage with
him. The rain was pouring. I suppose that was why she went. In a moment
the coachman had whipped up the horses, and they were off like a flash."
Miriam paused. Mr. Ingelow sat staring at her with a face of pale amaze.
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