They tracked the fugitive to the Mint; but, like hounds at fault, they here lost all scent of their prey. His face, as he looked down where his hand sought for a weapon concealed in her petticoat, was so close that she could see only the line of his firm jaw, the drag of his powdered hair that drew it into the military pigtail, and the black ribbon that adorned it. "Help!—murder!—thieves!" screamed Mrs. They were silent for a time. ” “I am very glad,” he answered, in a low tone. ‘You had better kill me, mademoiselle, because otherwise I shall end by strangling you. She deserves what has befallen her.
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