"Oh," she cried, "I'll bet that's it! I'll bet, oh,--" And with this last interjection, any such small stock of prudence as Millie may naturally have possessed, was scattered to the four winds.

"Wait here," she cried, utterly disregarding the fact that she was addressing a deaf man, but by a natural instinct suiting her gestures to her word. "Just you wait a minute. I know who can talk finger talk."

In another moment she had rushed from the room, shutting the door behind her with a sudden emphasis that must have been a surprise to those stately panels, and the noiseless, slow-moving hinges on which they swung.

Scarcely has Millie turned away from the window when the man outside, with two quick turns of the neck, has a.s.sured himself that for a moment at least, the window is not under the scrutiny of any pa.s.ser-by. No sooner has the study door closed, than the mute, without one shade of pathos in look or action, grasps the window-sill, swings himself up, and drops into the room, organ and all.

"So far, good," mutters this pathetic mute, under his breath. "This is Alan Warburton's study; not a doubt of that. Now, if I can continue to stay in it until he comes--"

He broke off abruptly, with his eyes fixed upon the half-open cabinet; moved briskly toward it, peeped in, and then, with a satisfied chuckle, stepped inside, and depositing his organ upon the floor of his hiding-place, drew the door shut, softly and slowly.

In another moment the study door opened quickly, and there was a rustle, and the patter of light feet, as Winnie French crossed the room rapidly, and leaned out of the window.

"Why, Millie," she said, looking back over her shoulder, "there's no one here."

"Perhaps--" began Millie; then, catching her breath sharply, she too leaned over the sill.

"Where is your pathetic mute, Millie?"

"Well, I never!" declared the girl, still gazing incredulously up and down the street. "He _was_ here."

Winnie smiled as she turned from the window.

"Some one has imposed upon you, Millie," she said; "and you did a very careless thing when you left such a stranger at an open window."

And a certain listener near by added to this exordium a mental amen.

"He might have entered--" continued Winnie.

"Oh, my!"

"And robbed the house."

"Bless me; I never thought of that!"

"Try and be more thoughtful in future, Millie. Close the window and let us go; ah!"

This last exclamation, uttered in a tone of unmistakable annoyance, caused Millie to turn swiftly.

Alan Warburton, having entered noiselessly at the door left ajar by Millie's reckless hand, was standing in the centre of the room, his well-bred face expressive of nothing in particular, his eyes slightly smiling.

At sight of him, Millie shrank back, but Winnie came forward haughtily.

"You are doubtless surprised at seeing me here, sir," she said, with freezing politeness, bent only upon screening Millie and beating an orderly retreat. "I came--in search of Millie; and, being here, had a desire to take a view of Elm street. You will pardon the intrusion, I trust." And she moved toward the door.

"Winnie," said Alan gently, "you entered to please yourself, and you are very welcome here. Will you remain just five minutes, to please me?"

Winnie frowned visibly, but after a moment's hesitation, said:

"I think I may spare you five minutes. You may go, Millie."

And Millie, only too thankful to escape thus, went with absurd alacrity.

When the door had closed behind her,--for, retreating under Alan's eye, the fluttered damsel _had_ remembered to close the door properly--Winnie stood very erect and silent before her host, and waited.

"Winnie," began Alan, consulting his watch as he spoke, "it is now almost three o'clock, and I expect a visitor soon; that is why I asked for only a few moments."

"I am not anxious to remain," observed Winnie, glancing carelessly from the timepiece in Alan's hand to a _placque_ on the wall above his head.

"But I am most anxious that you should."

"Excuse me, Mr. Warburton, but you have such a peculiar way of making yourself agreeable."

"Winnie!"

"Your interviews with ladies are liable to such dramatic endings: I seriously object to fainting, and I remained here, as you must know, not because I cared to listen to you, but because of Millie's presence. I think it took you half an hour to talk Leslie into a dead faint yesterday, and as nearly as I can guess at time, one of your minutes must be gone. You have just four minutes in which to reduce me to silence."

"You are very bitter, Winnie," he said sadly. "I am bowed down with grief--that you know. I am also burdened with such a weight of trouble as I pray Heaven you may never suffer. Will you let me tell you all the truth; will you listen and judge between Leslie Warburton and me?"

She drew herself very erect, and turned to face him fully, thus shutting from her view the door behind Alan.

"No," she answered, "I will listen to nothing from you concerning Leslie. Without knowing the cause, I know you are her enemy. If I ever learn why you hate her so, I will hear it from her, not from you. Leslie is not a child; and you must have said bitterly cruel words before you left her in a dead faint on that library floor last night--"

A very distinct cough interrupted her speech, and they both turned, to meet the respectful gaze of a jaunty-looking stranger, who said, as he advanced into the room:

"Pardon me; the servant showed me in somewhat unceremoniously, supposing the room unoccupied. I was instructed to wait here for Mr.

Warburton."

Winnie was first to recover herself. Turning to Alan, she murmured politely:

"I think my time has expired; good evening, Mr. Warburton."

As she swept from the room, the stranger approached Alan, saying:

"This, then, is Mr. Warburton. My name is Grip, sir; Augustus Grip."

CHAPTER x.x.xVIII.

MR. GRIP FINDS A "SKELETON".

This sudden appearance of Mr. Grip was not precisely to Alan Warburton's taste, and he eyed his visitor with a somewhat haughty air, while he said:

"Mr. Grip is prompt, to say the least. I believe that the hour--"