she continued, as she saw his right hand creeping toward one of his pockets. "That is right," as he instantly dropped it again to his side. "Obey me and you will not be hurt. Show the slightest disposition to disobey me and I will not hesitate to let you have the contents of one of these chambers, and I shall not miss you, either. Now sit down in that rocking-chair near you and put your hands upon the arms."

But the man did hesitate to obey this command and glanced nervously toward the door, which he had left open when he entered the room, as if contemplating a bold dash for freedom. Then he suddenly changed his mind, as the small hand which held that costly revolver was slightly raised as if to take a truer aim, and he obediently dropped into the chair which Mollie had indicated, then added in a tone of mingled wrath and admiration:

"Well, for a girl of your years, you're the coolest specimen I've ever seen."

"Yes, I know something about firearms. I had considerable practise shooting at a target in a gallery in Paris a couple of years ago," remarked the intrepid girl with deliberate distinctness.

Her captive cringed visibly at her remark, and, observing it, she realized that he was at heart a coward in spite of his profession and his attempt to bully her, and her courage rose in proportion. Just then she heard a vehicle outside slacken speed and stop before the house. The burglar also caught the sound and an anxious look shot into his eyes.

"What's that?" he demanded roughly; "the boss coming home?"

"No; Monsieur Lamonti will not return until to-morrow, or until this afternoon, I should have said," Mollie composedly remarked. Then she added with a gleam of triumph in her blue eyes:

"I am expecting some friends whom I have summoned to aid me in this emergency; doubtless they have arrived."

"The cops!" cried the burglar in a startled tone.

"Yes."

"How on earth did you manage that?" he questioned breathlessly.

"Ah!"—as his practised eye swiftly swept the walls and finally rested on the group of electric buttons—"the house is wired for it."

"You are right, and it is an exceedingly convenient arrangement," dryly responded the girl.

"Thunder and lightning! I swear I won't sit here to be caught like a rat in a trap," snarled her companion, as he started wildly to his feet and glanced around him for some way of escape.

"Sit down!" and the pistol in Mollie's hand was again raised menacingly, while footfalls were now plainly heard ascending the steps leading to the entrance to the house.

The man dropped with a quick, indrawn breath, as his eye fell upon the white, slim finger that rested on the trigger of the revolver. Then a sudden thought struck him and he breathed more freely.

"But they can't get in," he observed with a chuckle of exultation, for he told himself that if she was obliged to get up to admit the policemen he would have an opportunity to make a bolt for the nearest window and have a fair chance to escape by means of a balcony which could be plainly discerned outside.

"You are mistaken," his fair captor replied, "for when I touched the button that governs the communication with the station-house I also pressed another that unlocks the front door. Allow me to say for the information of any of your friends who may be followers of your profession, in case you should have an opportunity to communicate with them, that almost every room in the house is wired in the same way."

"Hell and furies!" groaned the unfortunate victim, and actually writhing in his chair, for at that moment steps and voices were heard in the hall below, and he knew that he was inextricably "bagged." Involuntarily he clapped his hand to his pistol-pocket.

"Sit still!" commanded the brave girl, and she leaned forward, her eyes blazing like two points of flame. "Another movement and I fire."

He knew she would, for there was a relentless purpose in her watchful gaze, and he settled back limp and white to await the inevitable.

With her glance never for an instant wavering from the form in the rocker, Mollie called out in clarion tones:

"Come right up-stairs, Mr. Officer, and you will find what you are looking for."

A moment later two policemen entered the room and took in the situation at a glance.

In a trice they had their prize—whom they instantly recognized as a man they had long been trying to run down—disarmed and safely handcuffed, he offering no resistance.

Then they turned their attention to the heroic girl upon the bed. But she felt little like a heroine at that moment.

She had dropped her weapon the instant the officers appeared upon the scene, too weak and spent to hold it longer, and now lay white and panting upon her pillows, consciousness almost forsaking her now that the reaction had come.

Almost simultaneously Nannette rushed into the room, her eyes wide and staring with fear upon beholding three strange men in the place, while she tremulously inquired if the house was on fire.

"No, no," one of the policemen replied reassuringly, "everything is all right now; but you'd better get the young lady a glass of wine or something. Did he attempt to do you any harm, miss?" he respectfully inquired.

"No, he did not have any opportunity," she panted, a ghost of a smile curving her white lips as she significantly touched the revolver that lay beside her.

"I see," said the man with a nod, "and you are a downright plucky girl! There, drink something, and then you shall tell us all about the affair," he concluded as Nannette approached with a glass of port wine which she had taken from a small cabinet which Monsieur Lamonti had in his room.

There was a tall Oriental screen before the fire-place, and the men placed this between the bed and their prisoner, then retired behind it themselves to give the exhausted girl time to recover herself.

Mollie sipped a little of the wine and soon found her strength returning, and with it and the friendly presence of Nannette, much of her habitual self-possession.

"Nannette, pray, get me a shawl or dressing-sack," she whispered to the girl. The maid whisked into her own room and returned almost immediately with a pretty wrapper of her own, and into which she deftly assisted Mollie, who then signified her readiness to talk with the officers, while she seated herself in a chair outside the screen and motioned Nannette to another near her.

She briefly related what had occurred from the moment when she had heard the clock strike two until the appearance of the officers. Her language was simple and unassuming, but the story produced a marked impression upon her hearers.

Nannette became greatly excited during the recital, but protested that she had not heard a sound until Miss Heatherford called out to the officers to come up-stairs, when she hurriedly threw on her robe and came to her, fearing she might be ill or the house afire.

The policemen regarded the fair narrator with undisguised admiration, as she told how she had softly taken possession of the revolver and cocked it beneath the bed-clothing before turning on the lights.

"It was a mighty plucky thing to do," one of them remarked.

"I sincerely hope that I shall not have to testify against this man at a public trial," said Mollie anxiously.

The officers saw that she was greatly distressed in view of such a possibility, and their sympathies were with her.

"Well, miss, I can't say for certain about that. I reckon you'll have to appear and give evidence; but perhaps a private examination can be arranged, and if the reporters don't get hold of it you'll be all right. I'm sure I, for one, would be