numbers through the sash. The cab veered to the gutter. The man leaped down and opened the door.
"Shall I wait, sir?"
"Yes," replied Philip; "we want an address."
He hurried up the step of a tall apartment-house, Gerald, in his renewed excitement, declining to stay behind.
"Will you please give me the address for to-night of Mr. Frederick Hilliard?" he inquired of the footman who answered his ring. "Has he been here in course of the evening?"
"Beg your pardon, sir," replied the man, respectfully. "What did you ask for, sir?"
"For Mr. Hilliard's address since the fire."
"I—I don't understand, sir. I think Mr. Hilliard is at home, sir. Second floor, sir. Shall I show you up?"
A door above opened and shut. A short, fat gentleman, slightly bald, of at least fifty winters, came briskly down, looking forward with a very friendly curiosity in his eyes. He began smiling cheerfully at them, and his pleasant face, with a snow-white mustache,
