"Well, my dear fellow, if I can help you, you'd better let me know what it's all about."

"Why, Minnie; that's the row. There ain't another thing on this green earth that would trouble me for five seconds."

"Minnie? Oh! And what has happened--a lover's quarrel?"

"Not a quarrel. _She's_ all right."

"What is it, then?"

"Why, she's disappeared."

"Disappeared! What do you mean by that?"

"Darn me if I know. I only know this, that they keep their place bolted and barred, and they've m.u.f.fled the bell, and there's no servant to be seen, and I can't find out any thing about them. And it's too almighty bad. Now isn't it?"

"It's deuced odd, too--queer, by Jove! I don't understand. Are you sure they're all locked up?"

"Course I am."

"And no servants?"

"Not a darned servant."

"Did you ask the concierge?"

"Course I did; and crossed his palm, too. But he didn't give me any satisfaction."

"What did he say?"

"Why, he said they were at home, for they had been out in the morning, and had got back again. Well, after that I went back and nearly knocked the door down. And that was no good; I didn't get a word. The concierge swore they were in, and they wouldn't so much as answer me.

Now I call that too almighty hard, and I'd like to know what in thunder they all mean by it."

"By Jove! odd, too."

"Well, you know, I thought after a while that it would be all explained the next day; so I went home and waited, and came back the next afternoon. I tried it over again. Same result. I spoke to the concierge again, and he swore again that they were all in. They had been out in the morning, he said, and looked well. They had come home by noon, and had gone to their rooms. Well, I really did start the door that time, but didn't get any answer for my pains."

"By Jove!"

"Well, I was pretty hard up, I tell you. But I wasn't going to give up. So I staid there, and began a siege. I crossed the concierge's palm again, and was in and out all night. Toward morning I took a nap in his chair. He thought it was some government business or other, and a.s.sisted me all he could. I didn't see any thing at all though, except an infernal Italian--a fellow that came calling the first day I was there, and worked himself in between me and Min. He was prowling about there, with another fellow, and stared hard at me. I watched him, and said nothing, for I wanted to find out his little game. He's up to something, I swear. When he saw I was on the ground, though, he beat a retreat.

"Well, I staid all night, and the next morning watched again. I didn't knock. It wasn't a bit of use--not a darned bit.

"Well, about nine o'clock the door opened, and I saw some one looking out very cautiously. In a minute I was standing before her, and held out my hand to shake hers. It was the old lady. But she didn't shake hands. She looked at me quite coolly.

"'Good-morning, ma'am,' said I, in quite a winning voice.

'Good-morning, ma'am.'

"'Good-morning,' she said.

"'I come to see Minnie,' said I.

"'To see Minnie!' said she: and then she told me she wasn't up.

"'Ain't up?' said I; 'and it so bright and early! Why, what's got her?

Well, you just go and tell her _I'm_ here, and I'll just step inside and wait till she comes down,' said I.

"But the old lady didn't budge.

"'I'm not a servant,' she said, very stiff; 'I'm her aunt, and her guardian, and I allow no messages to pa.s.s between her and strange gentlemen.'

"'Strange gentlemen!' I cried. 'Why, ain't I engaged to her?'

"'I don't know you,' says she.

"'Wasn't I introduced to you?' says I.

"'No,' says she; 'I don't know you.'

[Ill.u.s.tration: "BUT I SAVED HER LIFE."]

"'But I'm engaged to Minnie,' says I.

"'I don't recognize you,' says she. 'The family know nothing about you; and my niece is a silly girl, who is going back to her father, who will probably send her to school.'

"'But I saved her life,' says I.

"'That's very possible,' says she; 'many persons have done so; yet that gives you no right to annoy her; and you shall _not_ annoy her.

Your engagement is an absurdity. The child herself is an absurdity.

_You_ are an absurdity. Was it not you who was creating such a frightful disturbance here yesterday? Let me inform you, Sir, that if you repeat it, you will be handed over to the police. The police would certainly have been called yesterday had we not wished to avoid hurting your feelings. We now find that you have no feelings to hurt.'

"'Very well, ma'am,' says I; 'these are your views; but as you are not Minnie, I don't accept them. I won't retire from the field till I hear a command to that effect from Minnie herself. I allow no relatives to stand between me and my love. Show me Minnie, and let me hear what she has to say. That's all I ask, and that's fair and square.'

"'You shall not see her at all,' says the old lady, quite mild; 'not at all. You must not come again, for you will not be admitted. Police will be here to put you out if you attempt to force an entrance as you did before.'

"'Force an entrance!' I cried.

"'Yes,' she said, 'force an entrance. You did so, and you filled the whole house with your shouts. Is that to be borne? Not by us, Sir. And now go, and don't disturb us any more.'

"Well, I'll be darned if I ever felt so cut up in my life. The old lady was perfectly calm and cool; wasn't a bit scared--though there was no reason why she should be. She just gave it to me that way. But when she accused me of forcing an entrance and kicking up a row, I was struck all of a heap and couldn't say a word. _Me_ force an entrance!

_Me_ kick up a row! And in Minnie's house! Why, the old woman's mad!

"Well, the old lady shut the door in my face, and I walked off; and I've been ever since trying to understand it, but I'll be darned if I can make head or tail of it. The only thing I see is that they're all keeping Minnie locked up away from me. They don't like me, though why they don't I can't see; for I'm as good as any body, and I've been particular about being civil to all of them. Still they don't like me, and they see that Minnie does, and they're trying to break up the engagement. But by the living jingo!" and the Baron clinched a good-sized and very sinewy fist, which he brought down hard on the table--"by the living jingo, they'll find they can't come it over _me_! No, _Sir_!"

"Is she fond of you--Miss Fay, I mean?"

"Fond! Course she is. She dotes on me."

"Are you sure?"