--_Edward Bulwer Lytton_.

There was one of our dim street lights at a central corner on old
Pennsylvania Avenue, and under it, after a long walk, I paused for a
glance at the inscription on my sealed document. I had not looked at it
before in the confusion of my somewhat hurried mental processes. In
addition to the name and street number, in Calhoun's writing, I read
this memorandum: "Knock at the third door in the second block beyond M
Street"

I recalled the nearest cross street; but I must confess the direction
still seemed somewhat cryptic. Puzzled, I stood under the lamp,
shielding the face of the note under my cloak to keep off the rain, as I
studied it.

The sound of wheels behind me on the muddy pavement called my attention,
and I looked about. A carriage came swinging up to the curb where I
stood. It was driven rapidly, and as it approached the door swung open.
I heard a quick word, and the driver pulled up his horses. I saw the
light shine through the door on a glimpse of white satin. I looked
again. Yes, it was a beckoning hand! The negro driver looked at me
inquiringly.

Ah, well, I suppose diplomacy under the stars runs much the same in all
ages. I have said that I loved Elisabeth, but also said I was not yet
thirty. Moreover, I was a gentleman, and here might be a lady in need of
help. I need not say that in a moment I was at the side of the carriage.
Its occupant made no exclamation of surprise; in fact, she moved back
upon the other side of the seat in the darkness, as though to make room
for me!