scattered some books that lay upon a table near her in all directions.

"John, John!" cried Mrs. Desmond, "you must interfere."

But Helen only laughed.

"You've told me to go. I'm going," she said, and walked away.

Straight down-stairs she walked, singing as she went a snatch of an Indian native song. In the hall a comforter belonging to her father caught her eye. She picked it up and twisted it round her head and throat, then opening the hall door she passed out without a moment's hesitation into the fast-gathering darkness. The door closed heavily behind her. Upstairs the colonel heard it and sprang to his foot.

"My God!" he cried, "she has kept her word. She has gone. Quick! I must follow her."

"Nonsense, John!" exclaimed his wife; "lie still. A servant shall go at once. There is no need for alarm."

As she spoke she laid her hand on his arm, but he shook it off impatiently.

"Don't dare to detain me," he said sternly. "If any evil happens to that child I shall never forgive you."

"John, John!" cried Mrs. Desmond, throwing herself on the sofa and bursting into real tears. "John, listen to me—"

But it was of no avail. Whether the colonel even heard his wife's last appeal seems doubtful. Without pausing or turning his head, he walked straight down-stairs and out into the street just as Helen had done before him.

Darkness was falling fast. The air had turned chilly, with a bite of the east in it. Fresh from the warm drawing-room, Colonel Desmond shivered as he looked round in every direction, trying in vain to discover some trace of the fugitive. But to all appearance she had vanished, and the colonel, his alarm increasing every moment, as the passers-by whom he interrogated merely shook their heads in answer to his excited questions as to whether they had noticed a little girl without hat or bonnet going by, was forced to enlist a policeman to aid him in his search.

A weary search it was, lasting for many hours. Helen, after leaving the house, had walked steadily on, neither considering nor caring which way she took. Before long she reached a labyrinth of small streets, where there were few passers-by, and these chiefly clerks and artisans hastening home. Scarcely aware of what she was doing, Helen paused every now and then to watch these home-goers run eagerly up the steps of some small dingy house, the door of which would open as if by magic at its master's approach, whilst from within came gleams of light and glimpses of small outstretched hands drawing father in. Such sights brought her a realization of her own desolation, and she hurried on until at last physical exhaustion brought her once more to a stand-still. Oh! how tired and hungry she was! Even a piece of bread would have been welcome. But, alas! her pocket was empty. She had not the wherewithal even to buy bread. Then she sat down on a door-step and began to ponder on her future proceedings. What was she to do? Go back? No; she would never do that. Find Cousin Mary? But how was the necessary journey to be accomplished without money? Certainly it might be possible to walk the distance in two weeks—one week, perhaps. But—here Helen began to shiver, and she was just trying to wrap her comforter more closely round her when a light was flashed in her face and she felt her arm grasped. Looking up, her heart nearly stood still with terror when she saw a policeman standing beside her.

He looked at her for a minute, whilst she tried to speak, but couldn't. She felt as if a nightmare was coming true.

"Get up and move on!" he said roughly. "Where do you come from? You ought to have been at home long ago."

Helen needed no second bidding. Although the policeman kept his hand upon her arm, and seemed to have some intention of questioning her further, she released herself quickly and set off running as fast as she could go. On and on she went, up one street and down another, until once more exhaustion forced her to stop. It was growing late, and she espied a dark porch where it struck her that she might pass the night free from discovery. "In the morning I shall be able to think," she said, crouching down on the cold stones. Terribly afraid as she was, and cold and hungry, the idea of returning home never entered Helen's head. She had said to herself that she would never go back, and she fully meant to keep her word. A sort of drowsiness was stealing over her when approaching footsteps startled her into wakefulness and roused her to fresh terror. She jumped up and ran down the steps. Two figures were approaching; one looked like that of the dreaded policeman. Could he be coming to take her to prison? Once more she turned to fly, but her foot caught against the curb-stone, and she fell heavily, striking her head against the ground. The shock stunned her and rendered her unconscious.

When she opened her eyes great was her astonishment to see her father bending over her, while a policeman with a deeply-concerned face was looking on, and a cab was drawing up close beside them.