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 shot out into the gloom and she shrank back into the shadows just in time to prevent being stumbled over by three men who issued from the taproom at that moment.

Turning away and raising her cape to shield her face, Mehitable flattened herself against the side of the building. She would have escaped detection save for the fact that the stagecoach for New York drove up at that instant and the lights from its side lanterns threw her form into relief against the tavern wall.

One of the travelers, swinging around, caught sight of her and at once strode toward her.

"Gadzooks, what have we here—a ghost?" he ejaculated, seizing her by the arm and trying to peer into her face.

Mehitable's frightened eyes stared at him from the depths of her hood.

"Oh, sir!" she pleaded and stopped, puzzled. There was something vaguely familiar about the man. Although all she could see of him was his eyes, for his face was hidden by the upturned collar of his greatcoat, Mehitable was almost sure she had met him before.

"Oh, sir," she said again, in a low voice, "I do but look for my father in the tavern!"

Instantly he stepped back and removed his hat with a flourish.

"Let me not stop you, then, young mistress," he said gravely. And this time the girl was struck by the familiar tones of his deep voice. Where had she heard that voice before?

Unheeding his companions' jibing remarks, which