"No, sir, I----"

"A certain Miss Sacharissa Carr desires to see _me?_ Are you certain of
that?"

"Oh, yes, sir--she----"

"Where does she live?"

"One thousand eight and a half Fifth Avenue, sir."

"I've got just three minutes. Can you run?"

"I--yes!"

"Come on, then!"

And away they galloped, his overcoat streaming out behind, the maid's
skirts flapping and her narrow apron flickering in the wind. Wayfarers
stopped to watch their pace--a pace which brought them to the house in
something under a minute. Ferdinand, the second man, let them in.

"Now, then," panted the young man, "which way? I'm in a hurry, remember!"
And he started on a run for the stairs.

"Please follow me, sir; the elevator is quicker!" gasped the maid,
opening the barred doors.

The young man sprang into the lighted car, the maid turned to fling off